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One of the most important things that I ever went through was the twoyear season of kidney failure. I wrote this essay in 2002 to
describe as best that words can how God brought me closer to him all
that I had faith in besides Him were threatened, and God taught me To
Try His Splendor Out.
To
Try His Splendor Out.
By D.K. Humphreys
I have come to realize over the years that I am kind of thick-headed;
slow to learn certain things. I can hear my family shouting
“Amen” to that. When I say “slow,” I’m talking about things that
God teaches me. But, it’s far more difficult to see things in
ourselves than it is for others to see them. Despite my slowness,
and often my unwillingness to learn, God has been patient with
me. He has taught me some great things, and I treasure every one
of them. I serve an awesome God, whom I have grown to love more
than anything else, and who is the source of greater joy in my life
than I could have ever imagined. It is because of that joy that I
wanted to share in this essay a little bit about my learning
process. As I said, I am a slow learner, so this may get kind of
long. I will try to rein myself in, but I won’t make any
promises. All that to say, please bear with me as I share a
little bit about how God has worked in my life, and molded me for His
Glory.
Let me say from the outset, I married up. I walked down the aisle
with Kelly nineteen years ago. In a couple of years we will have
been side by side as husband and wife for half our lives. We have
three great kids – a pair of 13’s (Matthew and Alison, the twins) and
an 11-year-old “baby” daughter (Leah) – all of whom love the
Lord. We live in Southern California, where I work as a land-use
attorney for the City of San Diego. Despite my formal schooling,
my most recent educational experience – my most valuable and most
important to date – included looking death in the face as my health
slipped away, going on dialysis, and finally receiving a kidney
transplant on August 17, 2002. Using all of it, God taught me to
love Him, to be overjoyed by Him in such a way that I am constantly
amazed and in wonder at the workmanship of His love and grace.
But, let me back up a little – to high school, actually.
When I was fifteen, I got up one morning, and like every other morning,
headed for the bathroom. While everything seemed to work the way
it always had, the color of what came out was not right. My mom
took me to the doctor, who referred me to one specialist, then
another. Finally, I was told that I had some sort of kidney
disease. When the doctors eventually figured out what it actually
was, they used the word “benign.” I remember one doctor saying,
“If you have to have a kidney disease, you could not have picked a
better one. This type never progresses.” His assurance, however,
was only as good as the data available at the time. In 1989,
during my last year of law school, I went to the doctor for the annual
check-up, and was told that there was something seriously wrong with my
kidneys. More specialists and a number of tests later confirmed
it – my kidneys were failing, and would not improve. I was
prescribed a whole slew of medications, but assured that the only major
side effect was that I might have some trouble concentrating.
Boy, that was good to hear – all I had to do in the next three months
was finish law school, graduate, study for and take the bar exam.
Things seemed to stabilize; at least, I was not aware of them getting
worse. I took the three-day July bar exam, walked out of the room
the last day, and went home to celebrate the end of law school.
When I got home, I found even more cause for celebration – Kelly was
pregnant! I had a job waiting for me in San Diego and was
scheduled to start at the end of August. We moved down to San
Diego and waited for the bar results which would be announced the day
after Thanksgiving.
Shortly after we moved to San Diego and got settled in at home and
work, I experienced one of the toughest weeks of my life. First,
the City Attorney announced that due to a budget crisis, I could not
keep my job if I did not pass the bar exam the first time. The next
day, at Kelly’s ultrasound appointment, I heard the doctor say,
“There’s the first head, and here’s the second.” Oh no, I
thought, a two-headed baby! Thankfully, although there were two
heads, there were two babies as well. Kelly was having
twins. Later that week, tests showed that my kidneys had almost
completely shut down. I was told that I would have to go on
dialysis three times a week, four hours at a time – indefinitely, or
die. And you thought you had a bad week.
At least I was a Christian, so that I could face all this without fear,
right? As a Christian, I would just consider it all joy,
right? Wrong. Well, I mean I was a Christian, but wrong
about the other stuff. Even though I knew that the Bible promised
all things would work together for good, and even though I knew that
God was bigger than all of this stuff, my reaction was not one of
trust. I felt abandoned and scared. I faced the prospect of
providing for a wife, two (one-headed) babies and paying all of our
bills (including student loans), while possibly being out of a job, on
dialysis and in a strange city. Though I knew the truths of God’s
promises, though my wife and family offered me emotional support,
though I had been adopted by the God of the universe, who would comfort
me and would gladly carry me through it all, I did not ask.
Almost by default, I determined to go it alone.
Thanksgiving came, and then as it usually does, the day after
Thanksgiving came. I grabbed the small envelope out of the
mailbox, took it into another room, opened it up (I don’t even think I
prayed first) and read the first word: “Congratulations.” I
had passed the bar. An eventful and bittersweet December saw me
sworn in to practice law, and hooked up to a dialysis machine. In
February, five weeks early, Matthew and Alison were born – perfectly
healthy and beautiful. During the first nine months of their
lives, Kelly essentially raised the twins by herself, as I spent Monday
through Friday at work from 8 to 5, Monday, Wednesday and Friday on
dialysis until 10:00 p.m., and Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday feeling
as if I had a mild case of the flu. After nearly a year on
dialysis, I got the call; they were flying a kidney in from
Tennessee. I was in the hospital for ten days, and off work for
six weeks. Friends from the office and Sunday School gave us
money to pay the bills and brought meals for our family. We
surely had been blessed. I returned to work, having gone through
the greatest trial of my life, but not sure I had learned
anything. What had I missed out on by not relying on God during
all this? An important question, but one I did not ask. I was
back at work, and wanted to pretend that none of it had ever
happened. As I said, I’m a slow learner.
I accepted Christ as a sophomore in high school, and was on fire for
the Lord. I remember debating my biology teacher on evolution,
sharing Jesus with my classmates, and inviting them to Bible study and
church. I was really involved in my church, even teaching Junior
High kids, and leading worship every Sunday and Wednesday night.
I remember Dale, the wife of my Bible study leader, telling me that I
had the gift of evangelism and that I should be a pastor. Despite
being an academic goof-off all through high school, I was accepted at
Westmont College – on probation. In the fall of 1981, my parents
and I loaded all of my stuff into our green Chevy Impala station wagon
and drove up to Santa Barbara. My best friend, Eric, and I had it
all planned out, we hung out at high school, and would be roommates in
college. When I got to Santa Barbara and picked up my dorm information,
however, I found out that we had been assigned to different
dorms. Now, my whole life I had been the fat kid, and was
constantly teased about my weight. I was the poster child for
self-consciousness, and I imagined the worst about sharing a room with
somebody I did not know. So, rather than even wait to meet this
kid, I lied to my parents, telling them that I did not know what I
wanted to do with my life, and did not want to waste their money at a
private school, when community college would be just fine. After
hours of fruitless attempts by my parents to persuade me, we got back
in the station wagon, and while my mom cried, drove back home.
Pride and fear had taken me away from Westmont, but as He always does,
God meant it for good, bringing Kelly into my life later that
fall. Our friendship grew into love, and we were married in 1984.
I never actually “fell away from the Lord,” whatever that means, rather
I just kind of stopped growing. Oh, I witnessed to a few people
in my first year or so of college, but not much after that. I
helped lead worship at my church college group, and later founded a
chapter of the Christian Legal Society at my law school, but those were
just actions. I would have periods where I would have stronger
feelings than at other times, when I would read certain books, or hear
certain speakers. I went to church, I was involved in Bible
studies (even leading a few), but from year to year not much
changed. I had seasons where I would discipline myself to read
the Bible regularly or pray, but they were periodic, and often
short-lived. I knew some theology, I knew a lot about what the
Bible said, but where the rubber met the road I did not often include
God in my daily life. Only when a crisis arose that I could not
solve, would I seek God. And even then, usually as an
afterthought, where I would be up against it and find myself saying, in
essence, "Oh yeah . . . God." I knew that God wanted more, and I
wanted more too, but I guess I didn’t know that I wanted it.
A friend in our couples Bible study had gone through a discipleship
program, and then along with another friend, wanted to lead a group the
next year. I told them that I would like to go through the
program with them, and I signed up for the Top Gun Discipleship
Training (a nine-month intensive men’s discipleship program) at our
church. We met every Wednesday, memorized Scripture, read and
talked about portions of books, shared our lives, and held each other
accountable. God began to change me, to allow me to open up, to
be transparent, and to share the sins in my heart that I thought a
“spiritual” Christian didn’t have. In Top Gun, I developed
relationships with men of varying spiritual maturity, men who knew more
about the Bible than I, and men who knew very little, men who had a
closer walk with the Lord and, surprising to me, more who did not
really know what that meant. Despite the differences, God brought
us together in a group that provided me with men who were willing to
hold me accountable, who could disciple me, and whom I could
disciple. My relationship with God began to grow more than it had
in a long time. After Top Gun ended, several men from our group
continued meeting, and continue to meet weekly to this day. This
experience caused me to seek more discipling/mentoring relationships,
which continue to help me mature in my relationship with God.
I remember telling the guys in Top Gun about my kidney failure, and
about how I didn’t really invite God to walk with me through it.
I felt convicted and kind of sad when I looked back. I was
convicted that although I had been through this huge crisis, I didn’t
come away from it with some sort of powerful testimony. Others, I
thought, would have been standing before crowds proclaiming how God had
used this process for His glory, and describing how they had grown, you
know, using it all for His glory. I, on the other hand, was kind
of embarrassed, and thought that my bad health somehow made me a lesser
man. I was sad, and had a sense of loss – almost mourning – that
I had not drawn closer to God through the process, had not asked Him
for His comfort, and did not allow Him to carry me through. I
told the guys that I felt as if, when I chose to go it alone, I had
missed out on the wonderful gift of God’s grace and comfort that He
promises during uncertain and painful times. When I expressed to
these men the regret that I felt, I had no idea that God would give me
another shot at it, and that in the process I would experience what has
been the most profound growth in my love of the Lord since I accepted
Him as my Savior. First though, God had to do a little
foundational work.
In May 2000, needing more room, we made what we thought was a pretty
low offer on the perfect house. We could not believe it when the
owner accepted our offer. But, it came with no contingency for
the sale of our house. If we signed the papers, we were
committed, whether ours sold or not. The market was hot, so with
intentions of selling our house quickly, we agreed. What’s that
they say about the best-laid plans? As each week went by without
an offer, we continually heard from friends, and even friends of
friends whose houses had sold even before they put up a sign. It
seemed as if people were seeking us out – not to buy our house, but to
tell us how fast theirs had sold! When someone finally made an
offer, we jumped. We were getting kind of desperate, so even though the
offer was a little low, and the buyer seemed eccentric, we
accepted. Within a week, we learned that the buyer was not just
eccentric, but irrational and somewhat less than honest. When he
announced that he had decided to pay us $20,000 less than the offer we
had accepted, our realtor said to let him go. But if we did that,
we might own two houses. When the buyer found out about our situation,
things really got weird; day after day, rambling insults and
accusations, middle of the night calls and faxes, demand after
demand. “Drop the price, or I’ll walk, paint the side of the
house, or I’ll walk, maybe I won’t be able to get financing, you can’t
afford to own two houses.” From one minute to the next, we did
not know whether we would own one house or two. If two, we knew
that we could not make more than a couple of payments.
I was staring in the face of two of my longtime demons, uncertainty and
insecurity. I wanted to take charge, but there was nothing I
could do to fix the problem. Yet part of me loved it! I
know that sounds kind of weird, but for the first time in my life, I
was going through something bad, something that was completely out of
my hands, and instead of getting frantic, I trusted God. Don’t
get me wrong, my trust was not perfect. There were periods of stress,
but God was teaching me. He was teaching me to trust Him, and to
surrender everything to Him. God showed me that His promises are true,
as He gave me a kind of peace that not only seemed unnatural, but was
unnatural. I had never before experienced that kind of peace, and
it was cool! What’s more, I had the joy of sharing that peace with
Kelly and the kids. I had the privilege of telling my kids,
and showing them in practice, that my God was real, and that my real
God was sovereign. I got to teach, while I learned, that even
when we did not know from moment to moment what would happen, God
did. God was in control of everything, He knew His Plan, and
would not be surprised by whatever happened. No matter how things
turned out, God would use it for His good. In the end, everything
worked out better than we hoped, and we moved at the end of
August. God had brought us through the storm, and had taught our
family the joys of trusting Him. We praised God for the new
house, and for the lessons that came with it.
Two weeks after moving, my kidneys began to fail – again. I woke
up on what I thought would be just a normal Tuesday and discovered that
my feet and hands were huge. I called the doctor, who told me it
was probably something temporary that would clear up by itself, but I
suspected the worse. I remember crying out to God, reminding Him
what I had just been through, reminding Him that I had already learned
trust, reminding Him of how I had surrendered the problems with the
house to Him, and had even used it to teach my kids about trust.
Didn’t God remember that I had passed that class? Would He
really make me take it over again, so soon? I pleaded with God
that it really would turn out to be nothing. I promised that He
would see that I really had learned trust. I’m convinced that I
would have passed a lie detector test when I said those things.
I’m equally convinced that I was lying.
A biopsy confirmed that my original disease was now attacking my new
kidney, which would probably fail as well. It could take three
months, it could take two years, or, most unlikely – and my top choice
if I had a vote – it could stabilize and not progress. I remember
telling God that I did not understand why this was happening, but that
I knew it was part of His plan; still, I was not happy about it.
I was afraid, both for me and for my family. I felt distant from
God, and even kind of mad at Him for not seeing things my way, though
all of mankind can rejoice in the fact that He rules independent of
that perspective. God was patient with me through all of my
emotions. He loved me, and would not let me go through it
alone. When one of my Top Gun partners, Steve, told me that he
would give me one of his kidneys if mine failed, I didn’t know what to
say. He assured me that it was something he had thought a lot
about and really wanted to do. I thanked him, made him promise
that if it did not work out, that he would watch after Kelly and the
kids. I remember standing in front of the restaurant after lunch,
both of us hugging and crying, holding a Mary Kay cosmetics bag that I
had picked up for Kelly, and wondering what conclusion people passing
by were making. An element of uncertainty had been removed
through Steve’s generous offer; even if the worst happened, I would not
have to go back on dialysis.
Things were pretty stable for the first year after the biopsy. I
would swell up, and was a little more tired, but not much else.
We went on a cruise (partially because I wanted to make memories with
my kids in case I was no longer around), had great family activities,
participated in kids’ sports, and led a care group. I even
considered leaving the practice of law and joining a ministry
organization. I didn’t know it at the time, but that process was
a requirement of the Master’s degree that God was providing me;
therefore, since this essay is about how God has taught a slow learner
like me, it is important that I spend several paragraphs describing
it. However, I need to backtrack a little, so again please bear
with me.
Remember Dale, the wife of my high school Bible study leader who had
said I should be a pastor? Well, after I left Westmont I just
kind of left all that behind. I never looked back. When I heard
about buddies of mine who had become pastors (four of the five of us
who hung around school and church had become pastors), I felt a kind of
longing, but never really thought much about why. I had a real
affection for people in the ministry, but didn’t think much about that
either. After all, I had gone to law school, and was now a
lawyer, I was good at it, and was providing for my family. In my
job, I taught at the police academy, then at local conferences, and
finally found myself in demand across the country. When I spoke,
I regularly heard comments like “You were the best speaker at the
conference,” “You made me understand this in a way I never had,” or
“When you were talking, it was like you had been in my closet watching
my life.” All of the compliments and attention were a real boost
to an ego that was already pretty healthy. I wished, however,
that I could somehow use my communication skills for God. I spoke
at several conferences for pastors, Christian counselors or police
chaplains, and loved it. Even though I was speaking on the same
subject that I spoke on across the country, I could add insights and
share things with these groups that I could not share with other
groups. It was great to interact with the pastors and counselors,
to find out about them, about how the topic impacted their lives and
the lives of the churches. I remember thinking that I would love
to use the gifts and skills that God gave me to help Christians
grow. But, that wasn’t practical. I already had a career, I
worked long hours, so could not do much else, and besides how could God
use someone who was so unspiritual who sometimes forgot He was even
there?
As God caused me to grow and mature, I increasingly felt a sense of
longing when I listened to Christian speakers on tape or the radio,
watched pastors teach or interacted with my friends in full-time
ministry. I shared this longing with Steve, and confessed that
when I looked at what he did in his ministry, I felt envy. Steve
had told me before that maybe God was calling me into the
ministry. In no uncertain tones, I made it clear that there was
no way I was being called. First of all, if I had been called, I
would have been called long before this. Second, it just wasn’t
practical. I had no formal Biblical education, so no church would
hire me, and a Para-church ministry like his required that I raise my
own support, something that I could not do. I had a good job with a
good paycheck, and besides, why should I be any different from every
other Christian in the business world who would love to be in full-time
ministry, but who had to “settle” for ministry opportunities in the
work place. It didn’t occur to me until just recently that even
this was evidence of my calling. It never dawned on me that
people really felt satisfied with being a light and ministering to
those around them at the office or in the business world. I
really thought that every Christian who was not in full-time ministry
secretly wished that he or she were. I was shocked when I told a
friend recently that I should just settle for ministry in the business
world like every other Christian businessman does. My friend
looked at me like I was crazy, and informed me that most Christian
businessmen actually prefer to do what they are doing. Go
figure. But, I’m getting a little ahead of myself again.
One time, after telling Steve that I envied what he did, he told me
that his ministry was looking for an “Administrative Director” to
oversee the organizational aspects of a couple ministry arms, church
planting and revitalization. The administrative job description
did not excite me, but I liked what I saw in his ministry and the terms
sounded great. I would receive a full salary for a period of
time, and after that I would only have to raise half of my
support. It was so practical. I would have stepping stones
to transition from my paid job to a ministry that I believed in, and,
even though the particular job might not be a fit, my administrative
skills were needed there. Who knew, maybe after I had my support
raised and I learned a little more about how “ministry is done,”
whatever that meant, I could transition to something more in tune with
my gifts and longings. It seemed to be the opportunity that I
never thought would come. Yet for some reason, I didn’t have a real
sense of peace about it. I was tossed back and forth between
certainty to do it, and certainty to not. Would I be wasting my
legal education? What about status? Would it be wise for my
family’s financial security? What if my disease progressed?
My parents, both Christians, told me that they could not understand how
I could consider such a risky thing. The arguments did not seem
that compelling, yet I could not be sure of what to do.
Never before had I a greater desire to know God’s will. I was
convinced that if it were His will, He would bless it, and that if it
were not, I did not want to do it. I met with a pastor at my
church, prayed, spent time searching the Word, and talked to people I
respected. I was repeatedly encouraged to investigate. I
met with the people at the ministry and told them that I was not
organized by nature, and could be lazy sometimes. It was a weird
interview, but if it was God’s will, I could not screw it up with
honesty. The real me did not scare them away, in fact they liked
it. When I told them that I was still having trouble determining
if this was God’s will, they suggested I attend a re-focusing retreat
that was scheduled in the next couple of weeks. It was to be an
intensive program for pastors and lay leaders to re-discover their
first love, and re-connect with what God had called them to be. That
sounded interesting, so I flew off to Portland, Oregon to attend a
conference with a whole bunch of people I didn’t know.
The first morning, we were instructed to think about past events and
people, and write them down on Post-it notes as they came to
mind. Good and bad, we wrote them down, one after another,
randomly. Later we put them in chronological order, and placed
them on a timeline. We then prayed, and worked with coaches and
others at our table to see how God had worked through the people,
events, pain and joy in our lives. It was amazing to look back on
painful events and find that although they seemed without purpose at
the time, they no longer were as painful when viewed in the context of
how God used them.
One of my little Post-its said “Westmont.” Another said “Dale Sproul”
(she had said I should be a pastor). Still another said “Sarah
Mitchell” (a high school friend whom I told about Jesus, and brought to
church and Bible study). I looked at these “random” Post-its, and
it all came flooding back. I had been on fire for the Lord in
high school. People thought I was called to ministry, and I had
gone to Westmont with thoughts of becoming a pastor. I do not
know if I suppressed it, or just went on to other things after I left
Westmont, but there it was, right in front of me, and in my own
handwriting. I was surprised at these memories, but more
surprised when a memory of a conversation with my son, Matt, came to
mind. Understand that I do not normally attribute thoughts that
pop into my head as the voice of God, but this conversation, which had
taken place more than a year before, came back as clearly as if it had
just happened. I was in our family room with my son. I
said, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Then I added,
“Maybe you could be a pastor.” Matt said, “No, Dad, I want to be
an attorney like you.” I was really disappointed in him.
How could my son not want to be a pastor? Sitting at that table
in Portland, staring at a bunch of Post-it notes, God showed me my
heart – with a two-by-four. I was not disappointed in Matt – he
wanted to be like his dad! I was disappointed in me.
I called my wife and cried with her on the phone. I was convinced
that God had shown me His will, and I would not stand in His way.
It was so clear, God had called me into full-time ministry, and I had
missed it. Now, He was making it right, and this job was the only
practical way to get there. I was scared about the prospect, but
content that I knew His will. I told the folks at the ministry
that I wanted to take the job, and was told that they needed to meet
together to discuss it and pray. Of course, I knew how that would
turn out. After all, they were interested in me before I was
sure; now I knew it was God’s will, so when do I start? Sam, the
president of the ministry, drove down to see me for lunch, and when we
met, told me that he was not convinced that the job was a good fit for
me. He told me that they would love to have me join them in their
San Diego team, ministering to pastors and churches, but that they did
not feel comfortable with me and my family taking such a risk for a job
that they could not be sure was for me. I was spinning, and kind
of ticked-off. How could these people thwart the will of the
Lord? Who did they think they were to tell me what was too big of
a risk for my family – wasn’t that my role? This particular job
might not have been a great fit, but it needed doing and I could do
it. I had been convinced that God clearly shown me His will for
me to be in ministry. I had formulated a practical plan – the
only workable plan in my mind – to get there. Since this
practical plan did not work, I was now convinced I had been
wrong.
Through the grace of God, I had been learning a lot about trust. So, I
was convinced that all of this would work out for good, and that all of
this was in His perfect plan, but I still didn’t understand it.
How would I ever know God’s will for me again, if I had been so sure
that He’d shown it to me and been wrong? I promised myself, my
wife, Steve, and God (not in that order) that I would not make that
mistake again. I took away from this a lesson; since I could
never be 100% sure of God’s will, I certainly would not consider
ministry again. I would be content in my job, and if God used me
somewhere, great. But, it would not be in full-time
ministry. I had gone down that road, and I would not go down it
again. Oh well, I told you I’m a slow learner.
It was November, and my health was still about the same. In
February things began to go down hill quickly. The bills didn’t
care if I felt like crud, so I continued working forty hours a week and
commuting another ten, as I raced toward kidney failure. Steve,
reconsidering his offer in light of changes in his own family
responsibilities, told me that he could not give me his kidney after
all. Todd and Kevin, both friends from Top Gun, jumped in and offered
theirs, but neither was a match. As my health failed, I went from
running five miles at lunch, to stationary biking, then only
stretching, then napping at lunch behind my desk, and finally throwing
up at the office and in my car on the way home.
Needless to say, Kelly and the kids were scared. Matt was
especially terrified. His dad, who had been so alive, looked like
he was dying. Without the lessons that God had been teaching me,
I do not know how we would have handled it. But God did.
Knowing that this storm was coming, God had laid in me a foundation of
trust. Now He was building upon that foundation. In the
uncertainty of our house sale, the initial recurrence of my disease,
and the ministry disappointment, God was building. Once again, I
had the privilege to teach my kids about God’s faithfulness. I
told them – and told myself in the process – that it made no difference
at all whether I had the worst disease known to mankind, or was in
perfect health, God was in control of my future. He knew the
number of days appointed to me, the number of hours, the number of
minutes, and the number of seconds that I would live. And, He had
known them since before the creation of the universe. He, not the
uncertainty of my disease, was in control of those days. I assured them
again that God was in control of everything that had happened and would
happen, not just for me, but also for all of us. Better still,
however things turned out, it would be according to His perfect
plan.
What a joy to be able to share these things with my children. Not
just to share them, but to show them and live them. Every loving
father willingly sacrifices for his children. Time, money,
opportunity, even his life if need be does he willingly give up for
them. The main job of a father is to train up his children, to
teach them what it means to be a man, a father, and a husband – most
importantly, to train them up in the knowledge of our Lord, and the
riches of a relationship with Him. Although most Christian
fathers do a fine job of this, they have to do so with words, and with
the normal trials and struggles that every family faces. But God,
so rich in grace, blessed me by giving me the privilege of teaching
these things to my children in a way that would not have been possible
if my very life had not been in doubt. My kids got to learn these
things, to live them, to see God’s sovereignty up close, and in their
house. That I was chosen to be able to teach these lessons to my
children in this way is something for which I will be eternally
grateful.
I went on dialysis in March, and continued until my transplant in
August 2002 – an amazing gift of grace from Rachel, the daughter of
Kevin, my Top Gun partner who had offered me his kidney. Although
she had only met me once, Rachel heard of my situation and risked her
life, enduring major surgery, and sacrificing one of her own kidneys so
that I could live. I could write volumes about the selflessness
of her actions, but would only scratch the surface, so I will leave it
at that, an amazing gift.
I am once again healthy, but do not cling to that health in fear that
it may once again be lost. God has taught me to hold everything
loosely and to trust Him very deeply. Although at any point along
the way, I would gladly have accepted a miraculous healing, I can
truthfully say that I would not, on looking back, have traded the
experience for anything. God, the Potter, has molded me into
something valuable, a vessel of mercy that He can use for His
glory. A transformation I could never have imagined, but one that
I treasure, and one that is beautifully captured by an anonymous poet:
When God wants to drill a man and thrill a man and skill a man
When God wants to mold a man to play the noblest part
When he yearns with all his heart to create so great and bold a man
That all the world might be amazed – watch his ways, watch his ways.
How he ruthlessly perfects, whom he royally elects
How he hammers and hurts him, and with mighty blows converts him
Into trial shapes of clay that only God understands
While his tortured heart is crying, and he lifts beseeching hands
How he bends but never breaks, when his good he undertakes
How he uses whom he chooses and with every purpose fuses him
With mighty acts induces him, to try his splendor out – God knows what he’s about.
Prior to God’s shaping me, I was reluctant to try His splendor
out. I’d read some of the verses in the Bible and think, that’s
just not me. James said to be happy when bad things happen
because the difficult times teach us perseverance. Paul said to
be crucified with Christ, and dead to ourselves. Jesus told the
fishermen to follow Him, and they left everything behind. Jesus
even told a guy who wanted to join His ministry that He didn’t want his
help if he did not sell all of his possessions, and give everything to
the poor. I confess, I even had trouble getting into a lot of the
things Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount. Look who was to be
blessed: meek and mourning people who are insulted and
persecuted. If that is what it took, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to
be blessed. He goes on to say that I would be blessed if I were
poor in spirit. I didn’t even know what that meant, but it didn’t
sound real good to me.
The verses I always liked talked about things like every creature
bowing down and saying “worthy, worthy, worthy” – all the suffering is
over, everything has been perfected, and I’d have no wants. I
reasoned that since I would be perfected in heaven anyway, what’s the
big deal about down here. After all, I would never be perfect
here, so if I had to choose between what I thought of as a pretty good
Christian life, with little or no pain or suffering, and the sacrifices
that Paul, James and Jesus talked about, I think you can guess which
way I would choose. I mean, just listen to it, dead to self, take
up your cross, sell it all, meek, persecuted? Yeah right, bring
it on. The troubling thing, though, was that it was all in the
Bible. God wouldn’t tell me to do it if I couldn’t, and besides,
if it’s in there it’s probably something God cares about. So, I
would think, I kind of, sort of, maybe want it too – at least if
anybody asks. But joy? Maybe some kind of “spiritual” joy,
but not JOY! Not your favorite football team winning the Super
Bowl joy, or kissing your wife or playing with your kids joy, not even
reading a good book, eating a great meal, or a Saturday afternoon nap
joy. Not that kind of joy. Right? Right. Not
that kind of joy at all. Not any of those kinds of joys.
Nope, not that. Better! Better than all those joys
combined. An unimaginable joy.
And freedom. God has truly set me free. He has brought me
to a place where I can, from the heart, and with all sincerity pray,
“My life is Yours, my family is Yours, my stuff is Yours, all that I
have or will ever have, and all that I am or will ever be, is
Yours. Take it all if that’s Your will, take it now if You
desire.” God’s ways are not my ways, and though I may never begin
to grasp or understand the reasons why certain things happen, I am
content, and even filled with joy, at the truth that God does
know. Nothing that happens is contrary to His perfect plan for my
life. I can now ask God to give me the desires of my heart and
with expectancy pray that He take away any desire that is not from
Him. I can pray that He will bring me more pain, if that pain
will make me more like Him. Apart from His gift of salvation, God
has given me the greatest gift that He could have given me. He
has given me freedom, by setting me free, and it is that freedom that
brings me joy.
A.W. Tozer said: “God cannot use a man greatly until he has hurt
him deeply.” I thank God for my hurts, and I ask Him daily to use
me greatly.
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