One thing I’ve noticed about myself as I’ve grown older–besides gray hair and arthritis–is an increasing level of cynicism, or, as I like to call it, a realism that balances my optimism. That means I generally give people the benefit of a doubt until the evidence shows otherwise, and my realism presses me to confront the facts. As President Reagan always told his cabinet: “Never be afraid to see what you see.”
When it comes to God’s capacity to intervene in human events, my outlook is similar. About 7 years ago, I was nearly killed by a drunk driver in a tractor-trailer. He made a U-turn in front of me. I never had a chance.
Because I was going under the speed limit at the time, I had enough time to bank to the left and slam into the side of the cab from the passenger side rather than go under the trailer, which would have cut me from 5-foot-3 to 3-foot-2.
The car was totally destroyed, the truck flattened the engine block and crushed the passenger area. I walked away with a small cut on my hand. No fractures. No broken bones.
So many things happened just right–I had looked down to adjust the volume on the radio, but looked up just in time to see the truck pulling out; I was going 10 mph under the speed limit, as I was accelerating from a stop; I hit the truck at an angle that made my engine block, rather than myself, the resultant of the load path–that I can say it was a bona fide miracle.
As a child, I had a stepmother who had terminal cancer. She had it bad. One month to live. At first, I didn’t have a clue what was going on. Cancer? I didn’t know what it was. I just knew she spent a lot of time in the hospital. I didn’t know what chemotherapy was, but I knew she wore wigs a lot.
(While I was kept in the dark, my parents didn’t quite understand what happens when you have a curious, sort-of-intelligent cat like me who has access to her medical dictionaries and dad’s encyclopedias. I put 2 and 2 together. I didn’t understand all the medical terminology, but I figured out–as well as a third grader can–what cancer is, what chemotherapy and radiation treatments were, and why chemo treatments resulted in people wearing wigs.)
Nominally religious for most of her adult life before then–she was raised in a Catholic orphanage, and experience that scarred her badly–she became a Christian.
Needless to say, she–and others in the church we began frequenting–prayed for healing.
She had cancer of the liver, the colon, the omentum, and both ovaries. Over 30 years later, she’s still alive and kicking. So yes, I still believe in miracles, as do about 50% of the Americans surveyed in the latest study on the matter. I’ve seen it firsthand. Readers of this blog have a no-crap verifiable eyewitness account that miracles happen.
On the other hand, I have firsthand accounts to verify that terminal cancer is called terminal for a reason, and that miracles are called miracles because they are exceptions to the natural rule.
Kilo Sierra eschewed medical treatments, insisting that natural therapies–and Divine intervention–would be sufficient to cure her breast cancer. She died about 2 years ago.
Delta Charlie, on the other hand, pulled out every stop in his battle with prostate cancer. He went full-force with chemotherapy, surgery, radiation therapy, and even natural therapies. He and his wife–both seminary grads who worked as a pastoral team in Missouri–trusted in God for healing. There were periods of success, periods of hopelessness, periods of hope. But once the treatments stopped working, the cancer spread to his brain and shut him down.
For the Christian, victory is rarely of this world. And unless the Dispensationalists are correct–and I have my doubts about it, as I consider Dispensationalism to be a nutty hermeneutical system–death is a door through which we all will walk one day.
Ergo, the cancer survivor–while having great reason to rejoice–will still die eventually. The same goes for survivors of truck crashes. Apart from suicide–which is not an acceptable choice for the Christian–we don’t get to choose how we leave the world.
And yes…the skeptics are correct in that when the medical evidence is there, it almost always means death is imminent.
On the other hand, death is–for the Christian–a promotion.
During my short tour of duty at Southern Cemetary, an angry friend of mine said that when she got to heaven, she’d have a boatload of questions for Jesus.
I told her, “I think I’ll settle for getting the tears wiped from my eyes. Apart from that, I’m not sure I’m gonna give a crap what the answers are.” We both laughed.
Maybe not the perfect answer–with appropriate theologispeak–but I’ve yet to see a better answer.
thanks for sharing that, amir. i think i stand in a similar place as you. though i’ve never had a near-death experience like yours, i look at death as a door, and for me and many others, a promotion š
i lost my mom to cancer when i was about 19. she had it on and off for about five years, and through that time she went from being a devoted catholic to really being a christian. her faith gave me so much comfort after she died… i knew where she was, and that what she had wanted more than anything was to do god’s will. i remember her saying once that if god had a miracle cure for her, then that was great, and she’d take it. but if god wanted her to come home and be with him, then that was great too, and she’d take it. toward the end, i think she knew what he had for her: the chemotherapy was taking so much out of her that it wasn’t really beneficial any more, so after a talk with her doctor, treatment was stopped. she died less than a week after that.
i know where she is, and i know i’ll get to see her again some day. and i got a really great look at what loving god is; wanting His will for you life more than your will for you life, and trusting that no matter what, it will all work out.
Again, I feel your grief. It is in the course of my duties as a nurse in a critical care environment to help individuals come to grip with the reality of the context they find themselves in… .In one case, a healthy young boy who ODed was going to be an organ donor (he had no health issues); the aunt was convinced that he could be “healed” even after the organs were removed (he had true cerebral silence on the EEG and no spontaneous respirations; we were keeping him “alive” with machines) and I had to help her forward from this place.
..I have seen few “miracles” – in all my 36 years as a believer, I can count them on one hand.
..And I have seen believers truly with God’s Grace on them, in peace (as He sustained them) at the bedside as their loved one passed on.
..And I have seen believers with mistrust of the medical profession (since we are people necessarily of science, and of the empirical, measurable realm)… and they injure me, wound me, and insult me.
My sincere thanks to you for your friendship towards your friend; despite your differences.
God’s grace on you. You will laugh again with your friend.
I have yet to witness miracles of the magnitude of which you speak. My experience with cancer leaves me trembling in fear of who it strikes next.
My pastor’s daughter-in-law has achieved victory, but it was supposed to be much easier than it actually was.
A friend’s mom was taken a couple of years ago. While I didn’t know her and not-exactly-extremely-close relationship with this friend, my heart ached for him and his family’s grief. I actually cried over it. A lot. (I cry, but it is always more than warranted and sometimes long overdue.) I hadn’t cried over something like that since my grandpa had died. The miracle of that battle with cancer is how it united several hundred people to one another. I was amazed at what had unfolded afterwards.
My friend’s dad went on to re-marry just this past April to a widow who had also lost her husband to cancer. I was able to go to the wedding and see the Lord weave beauty and rejoicing from deep sorrow. Those are the sort of miracles that I have seen.
I’m back! I’m back in black. I’m back in the saddle – again.
Anyway, great blog, Amir – I too have had one or two things happen to me that, although a skeptic would be skeptical of, I believe were small miracles of God or angels looking out for me. In fact, one of them happened the first time I ever really prayed, and I believe it was what led me to becoming a Christian.
On the other hand, death isāfor the Christianāa promotion.
‘For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.’ Yes, indeed.
By the way, Amir, how long ago did you attend Southern? I have a friend there right now and he quite likes it. *shrug*
I told her, āI think Iāll settle for getting the tears wiped from my eyes. Apart from that, Iām not sure Iām gonna give a crap what the answers are.ā We both laughed.
Maybe not the perfect answerāwith appropriate theologispeakābut Iāve yet to see a better answer.
I think one of the most soul-jerking explanations of heaven was a description of this very thing. A couple of years after graduating, I went back and took a class at Covenant: Studied in Trinitarian Theology.
Towards the end, we were having a discussion about heaven. The prof. said that he believes that there will be some pain in heaven (upon entrance maybe??) and it will be Christ himself who wipes away the tears from our eyes with His wounded hands.
I thought that was beautiful and something to look forward to. The Savior of my soul being able to physically wipe the tears from my eyes. Amen and Amen.
Adam: I was there from 1993-1994. I started during the very semester when Al Mohler was inaugurated.
It was a war zone.
Thanks for sharing the softer side of Amir. What you call cynical, I call cuddly as a brillo pad but not in a cheery way. At times your just plain crotchety and grumpy. You’ll make an absolutly endearing old man. But it’s too soon for that. Here’s hoping that Christina Applegate being cancer free will cheer you. She went for the double mastectomy. At 36, she’s not done living.
Savvy: What you call “crotchety and grumpy” is just my expressing hard reality.
There are times when it is appropriate to convey the gravity of the situation, and–yes–that means handing certain folks an earful, and communicating facts that are not pleasant, and doing so in such a way that the exigency of the moment is not lost.
Reminds me of a great Teacher who–right after pronouncing a blessing on a prized student–admonished him, saying, “Get thee behind me Satan!” in the very next exchange.
I hate to burst bubbles, but Jesus wasn’t Barney the Dinosaur on a cross.
sc says:
It’s kinda like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abendnego when they stood up to Nebuchadnezzar. They effectively said–and I’m paraphrasing–“We believe God is powerful enough to deliver us from the furnace. But even if He doesn’t, He’s still the only God, so you can stick your statue right up your Babylonian ass!”
(I missed my calling: I should have been a Bible translator!)
God came through, and Nebuchadnezzar saw Jesus–I’d say He was he 4th man in the furnace–and the course of his life was never the same after that.
again … thanks.
I’m reminded of a poem by Carl Sandberg in which a man discusses what he should teach his son about the world. I will have to look for it. I’m supposed to call a school district to get a last min interview first thing in the morn. So crazy how they call you at the last minute. I was in “The World Of Carl Sandberg” in HS.
“I hate to burst bubbles, but Jesus wasnāt Barney the Dinosaur on a cross.”
. . . and that’s one of the many reasons I like this blog.
sav, it’s funny that you call amir crotchety in the comments of a post where he talks about jesus wiping tears from people’s eyes and his stepmother’s battle with cancer and his near-death experience…. ?
SC: I think she’s still hung up over the torching I handed her over her dating exploits.
Found the poem. I hope you like it.
http://poetrydispatch.wordpress.com/2008/06/09/carl-sandburg-father-to-son/
Amir, this reminds me of an experience I had on the Capital Beltway in Northern Virginia almost 15 years ago. I was trying to exit at a cloverleaf ramp when a taxicab driver cut me off so that he could enter the Beltway. I slammed on my brakes, and they locked. My car turned almost 90 degrees so that the driver’s side was facing traffic. During evening rush hour, no less.
For a moment I thought I was about to be killed. I then turned my head and saw that there was NOBODY oncoming in my lane.
I righted the car and drove away. I had to take the next exit, turn around and drive back to my intended exit, but that inconvenience was minor compared with what could have happened.
Do I believe in miracles? Absolutely!
Reread the first few words. I was touched by Amir expressing himself for real. He called himself “cynical” and I said he was too young to be that and I redefined cynical. I then went out of my way to find a poem.
PS Torched and scorched. I’m still licking some wounds, however, I have my reasons for the things I have done.
PPS I’m really more upset by lack of careful reading of what I post, acusation that I’m “bitching” when I am telling stories of things that happen, and not reading the full outcome of the story. Other than that, fond thoughts of you fill all my days and nights. OK, not that much time. š
Savvy: You need a torching, and for the reasons I’ve mentioned. Fact is, your antics are disconcerting and disrespectful to Christian single men.
Your “storytelling” is little more than a fancy way of saying “men are assholes” when in fact your antics would turn off most Christian single men who give a crap about their walk with Christ.
It sure DOES come across as one-sided bitching.
sav, i know it’s frustrating to be misunderstood… please don’t think i’m torching you, cause i swear i’m not, but i feel like i’ve walked away confused from your blog posts/comments more than once, and i feel like others have too. you’re obviously a talented writer, but maybe you could be a little more clear? just a thought… love, sc.
SC–What do you mean more clear? I write the way I write, you write the way you write, and Amir writes mean. Sorry Amir, I’m not “learning” from you. I’m more than anything turned off cause you say what a great Christian you are and yet you’re rather unkind.
On Anakin’s blog I say I write as an observer. I let the person hang themselves by their own words and actions. Sometimes I have participated more than I should have because I was curious about one thing or another about the person. I’ve also written about some that I liked. I rather liked Swing, still do. But he seems too confused to have a relationship right now. So we’ll be friends. I’m still friends with a a few people I dated cause they didn’t work as dates but seemed decent friends–except Bass.
SC–if you are confused about something, you are wlecome to leave a comment on that post. I am realistically struggling with my faith and wondering if i ever want to venture into a church again right now. I should have just called myself Savvy Single
Savvy:
I am sorry about your struggles right now. I’ll keep you in my prayers.
Here is what had me ticked off: when you blog about your dating life, you come across as someone who uses men like toys, then complains later about what sexed-up jerks men are.
Then, when you blog (in Anakin’s space) about the need for more respect, that really rings hollow.
All said, I empathize with your struggle.
“Iām more than anything turned off cause you say what a great Christian you are and yet youāre rather unkind.”
Things like this just upset me.
I just finished re-reading “Real Sex: The Naked Truth About Chastity” by Lauren Winner. Savvy, do you realize that Amir tore you up one side and down the other out of (Christian) love? Purity/Chastity is a discipline. True discipline requires a harshness that this world hates. I’m finally starting to learn this truth.
Like Amir said yesterday “Jesus wasn’t Barney the Dinosaur on the Cross”. Last night in church I almost shared this thought. We had small groups and we’re going through “Knowing God” by J.I Packer (haven’t read it, except maybe the first two chapters . . . I’m such a rebel). The chapter that was discussed last night was God’s love and how much it runs anti-thetical to what this world defines love as. There is judgement (you sinned!), wrath (I told you not to! There are consequences for such things!!), and discipline (get out of the garden!! NOW!). However, God created a way to get us back to the garden, to get back to perfection because he loves us.
All Amir is doing is trying to show you that no matter what your rationalizations are for your behavior, it’s wrong. If he was truly unkind, he would have called you all sorts of names and not offer you any hope. He has not done that, therefore he is not unkind.
I could argue, based on our interaction on this blog alone, that he hates me and has treated me in ways that I don’t deserve. That’s horse puckey. It’s just not true.
RE: Church attendance
Savvy, you need to get a grip. You need to realize that it’s not other people’s fault that you hate church. When you stay out of church because of other people, and then rely on your own strength to get you through the mess of life, you aren’t living out the Gospel.
I’m not exactly sure where you live, but I can’t believe there isn’t a decent church around you. Also, from experience, some churches are not what they seem on the surface. The church I currently I attend, I started attending out of merely pragmatic reasons. I was in college and it is across the street. I figured that if my car broke down, I wouldn’t be able to use that as excuse to not go to church on Sundays. I all sorts of pre-conceived (uncharitable) notions about every single person in that church. I can safely say, that after 5 years of attending there, every single one of those notions has been shattered.
I learned that it was not “other people” that made my initial experiences there a tad uncomfortable. It was me. It was all me.
To play the victim card in the realm of church attendance is not going to hold up in the end. You can still be a Christian and not attend church, but you are a very ill-equipped Christian. There’s a little quip that some people use to rationalize being lax in church attedance: “Going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than driving a car makes you a mechanic.”To certain point, that’s true. However, just as you need to take care of your car (fill up before it’s empty, change the oil regularly, check tire pressure, wash it, change tires, rotate, align) so you must care for your soul (quiet time, prayer, meditation, sermons, serving others). It’s when you lend yourself to taking proper care of your car, you’ll be able to sense if something is wrong even if it’s minor (a low tire, new muffler). Some times it’s a bit bigger (the clutch or transmission). The same thing with your spiritual life. When you are taking proper care of it you’ll be able to sense when something small goes wrong (didn’t balance the check book, didn’t say thank you, or shouted unnecessarily). If something bigger happened (went out on a couple of directionless dates or slighted a family member) you would have the tools necessary to figure out how to repent.
I do feel for you, Savvy. I have never had the liberty of being in your shoes as I have never been asked out more than a couple of times. (Asked to a movie by a guy at Penzoil once, who had been mustering up conversation for about a year every time I came in. That was back in ’05. I never saw him after that b/c I avoided that place like the plague. Just a few months prior to that I went to the college spring formal, where of course I was asked.) So, I don’t quite understand where you are coming from. I do want to encourage you to find a decent church and not blame other people. Also, being “unkind” doesn’t necessarily equate with refraining for saying harsh things.
Savvy: Carrie is right on this. I am sorry that you have had the struggles of which you speak. Churches can really suck sometimes, and I have seen what you have seen firsthand. And, sadly, churches treat singles like dog poop more often than not.
Trust me on this: we’re with you on that front.
On the other hand, I’ve always said that a dysfunctional church is better than no church at all.
Staying out of church because of prior experience is like making out with a date because of past bad results in spite not making out: it only guarantees more misery, as it is tantamount to cutting off your nose to spite your face.
On the dating front, I’m merely calling on you to reconsider your choices. If you want better outcomes, making out with a guy–especially on the first date–is not a high-percentage move. If you do that, and he wants to have sex with you, then all you’ve proven is that he is a red-blooded male heterosexual. š
I’m not discounting your other experiences, in which you were not putting out and the men complained. On the other hand, lowering your standards will only guarantee more base behavior by the men.
And yes, most single Christian men I know would be irritated if a date pulled that with them. And yes, we tend to find such conduct–and your later ruminations about it–disrespectful to us. So when you call for more respect on Anakin’s blog, it comes across as hypocritical.
I apologize that I came across as overly harsh. Some of that harshness is tongue-in-cheek; some of it is deadly-serious as a drill sergeant preparing you for reality.
I’d love nothing more than for you to find a good church, get better-grounded with the things of God, and–yes–find a good Christian guy to marry.
I’m trying to help you make choices that will be conducive to that happening.
In Anakin’s blog “we” referred to the whole human race.