Last January I had the privilege of accompanying my sister to Florida for a week. Amber is a wonderful woman who has had a very rich experience as a successful model and this simple hick got to accompany her to a photo shoot in Miami. We took a few extra days and drove our rented convertible down to Key West where we just hung out and had fun. I went scuba diving for the first time in the emerald green waters of the south that have beckoned my heart to return since our sailing trip to the Bahamas almost 30 years ago. There is something almost magical about the Caribbean and standing on the newly created beaches of Key West was almost intoxicating.

We had a time of peaceful reflection and true bonding as siblings; it was the first time I had ever had the privilege to spend any real time alone with Amber since we were kids. The only symptom of the ALS that I experienced to that point was slight difficulty speaking. Of course, at this point I didn’t have any idea what the cause of my disability was.

Anyways, I had been reading “The God Who Speaks” written by Brad Jersak, finding his experiences ringing true in my heart, so I was feeling buoyed by some of the experiences that I’d had in recent months. On the plane home I remember reading a chapter about God speaking through circumstances so I asked Him to do just that and I started to pay attention.

Now, as a preamble you should know that my dad was going to pick me up from the airport with my truck. I left the keys with him and for the first time ever left my cell phone behind too. It was the first time I had ever gone away and not been available by phone or email in over 15 years.

I called from a stopover in Dallas Ft. Worth on the way home to confirm that the pickup was still a go, which it was. With a mere 5 hour flight to go I felt relaxed and aware that God was going to speak through circumstances very soon. I arrived in Vancouver to a very disappointing welcome; no one was there to get me. I waited for 2 hours, phoning first my parents, then my wife then my employees. Not one of them was around and I grew apprehensive. What did God want to say to me through this? The sense of dread was almost palpable as I began to correlate the natural to the spiritual. From where I stood the message was clear; “Daddy isn’t coming”. I guess I started to get scared about what this meant for the coming days, especially as I researched possible root causes for my speech impediment. The thought of being abandoned in the midst of a battle for my life has brought some of the darkest feelings I have ever experienced in my life. Words cannot describe the tremors I felt in the deepest recesses of my soul as I considered the prospect of a future without Jesus. I tell you honestly that I was so scared of the possibility of being forgotten and abandoned that I have literally tried to block the entire “coincidence” from my mind. The problem was that I knew then as I know now, that God was speaking to me through a set of events that I couldn’t explain away. However, I can tell you that being diagnosed with a terminal illness and experiencing a rapid degradation in my ability to function and interact with the world around me, hearing the phrase “Daddy isn’t coming” does little to inspire faith. (at least that has been my experience with it)

It suddenly occurred to me while I was writing this story out that my dad made provision for me to get home. He knew what I am like; that I would figure out that he had to be somewhere otherwise he would have been there to pick me up; knew that I would eventually catch a cab to his place and that I would find my truck parked outside in the driveway; knew that I would find the unlocked door on the balcony and the keys on the counter in the kitchen. 

Scripture tells me that I can expect much more from my Eternal Daddy who is perfect than from my dad on earth. If (and I recognize that this is a REALLY big if) that series of events was a foreshadowing for the season I am currently in then perhaps a next step is located for me to take the initiative on. In terms of where I go from here, I really don’t know. Two things I have started doing are asking Jesus to fight on my behalf as well as show me what the next step forward is. There is a voice yelling “STOP DELUDING YOURSELF! God isn’t going to save you from this disease”. I don’t have any real proof that I will walk away from this, but I tell you I know God can heal me, and something inside me tenaciously believes He has plans to do it.

I find this to be a very peculiar tension; to be utterly spent physically and long for death, yet be convinced that God will perform the miracle and give me a life of new purpose and vision.

Even now, as I contemplate this story and my thoughts about it, I consider not posting it on the grounds that it is too fantastic to be possible. The doubts are loud and persistent saying things like “Don’t be a fool, just admit you are dying and stop this charade!”

I know that without Jesus’ touch, I’ve little time left here. It’s pretty obvious to everyone, so why hold so tenaciously to this thread of hope? I don’t know; maybe because I’m stupid, stubborn, naïve or deluded. Perhaps it is the way I’m wired; to expect the impossible: dream the unexpected. Most likely it’s got something to do with the scope of possibility that is the very hallmark of the God I have committed myself to serving. In the end, I don’t have to know the answer to why, I just do, come what may. I will be eternally grateful for the healing when it comes, and if I am wrong then I know I’ll be eternally grateful for the ultimate healing that takes me into the presence of perfection.

Right now it’s pretty tough, but whatever. 

So I come to the end of my tale, asking for even a drop of Heaven’s plan to somehow make its way to my pile of dirt, taking this broken vessel and directing it accordingly. 

Bye for now.

Stephen