It seems that a letter of this nature is simple enough in concept to conceive and yet very difficult in practice to write.  I think that this is due to the incredibly heavy nature of the subject matter to me, and the ramifications to our family and future.

I will be as honest as I can in presenting the facts but will try and temper them with the Truth and the possibilities that exist within the Truth.

The perception and the reality may be close or far apart, but here’s my take:

In my flesh I feel like an air mattress with a slow leak in it.  Like a garment that is slowly being unraveled.   I struggle with the trouble that I continue to have in speech, and the ongoing difficulties that I face in my body.

At last take, it was my speech and right arm that were affected.  I didn’t notice any other areas of effect.  That, however, is not the case and I can’t deny that the effects are far more wide-spread than that.  I am affected throughout my body now; in varying degrees of weakness and clumsiness but for sure it’s real and widespread.

To be honest, it scares me.  There’s nothing that I can do about the lack of strength or coordination and the future looks terrifying and dark when I consider the insidious nature of the degradation.  It’s beyond any feeling of helplessness that I have ever experienced in my life.

At times I want to be in denial; pretend I’m okay, just a sore throat, maybe a pinched nerve.  Those are fake comforts, things that placate but don’t last.  But the alternative is terrifying to consider when I think of my kids and my wife.  Honestly I am absolutely undone in those moments.  I know “Psalm 23” the whole valley of the shadow of death – for me this is real.  It’s a real shadow of real death.  I relate more to Psalm 39 – I won’t bother trying to quote it but let you read it for yourself if you like.

Then I temper that with the concrete reality of God’s power, presence and faithfulness in our lives over the years and I am left with an unnerving calm.  I don’t know if you are aware of the countless times He has directly intervened in my life but seriously, it’s almost beyond comprehension.  I’ve been healed, blessed, moved, divinely saved from death, directed, had job after job literally given to me “at the exact moment of need”, received words of divine encouragement, discipline, prophesy.  I’ve had open visions, dreams, direction and have lived a life that I truly have to admit is not possible in my own strength and abilities.  The life we’ve lived has absolutely been “Christ in us”.  How could I ever even boast about the richness of His blessing and leading and teaching and provision and faithfulness as if they had anything to do with me?  I am boggled as I think back of time after time after time of divine intervention.

When I extrapolate things forward, this current season doesn’t make sense in the finality of it.  I simply am unable to comprehend that “this is it”, that I am going to die of this.  I don’t know what else to think.  I can point to a time in my past where I sense His discipline for my heart that had gone astray, and within the scope of this I tend to suspect His handiwork, because I was becoming so arrogant in life that I absolutely had to be corrected.  Now I am left with the contemplation of the future, with dreams and hopes; of visions unfulfilled; of words of prophecy yet to come to life and of a hope that is incomplete without the promise of future life and blessing.

Here, then, is my struggle.  I battle daily with flesh that mocks the reality of God in my life.  With a condition that says it is fatal, unavoidable and final; the path is set and while faith is a good thing, this is real and serious and final.  But with a faith that categorically states that with God, anything is possible; He, who created me and has plans for me, has victory over this just as easily as He has victory over anything else.  A faith that rejoices in the victories He has purchased in us thus far, and trusts in the completion of His work.  A faith that knows I will live every single day that He has allotted for me to live.  A faith that believes that I am not yet done in this life; that I have yet to even begin to know the purposes and plans that Father has for me and for us.  It is in this faith that I pray and ask “Father, can we have a good laugh about this?  Can we look back together and say, wow, Jesus has shown His authority yet again?  Oh God of all that is, show Your power in me.”  A frightening prayer…

I readily admit that it is a tough decision to take the side of Faith over Fear.  There’s something daunting about facing a real illness.  Every lesson I’ve learned about the two don’t make it easier.  I know that just because something feels real, doesn’t mean it is real.  But emotions are really powerful things, sometimes too powerful.

I choose to believe, ultimately, that reality is not “what I make of it” but “What God makes out of it”.

Just a fool

Stephen