I Have a Confession…

I Have a Confession…

 An “I saw that” story in the making.

So, here I am.  Six months after my last post.  In some ways it feels so much longer.  These past few months, there has been one giant “I saw that” story in the making, peppered and sprinkled… no, bejeweled…with smaller stories which beg their own telling.  It will likely take several blog posts to get through all of them.

Or maybe I’ll just write another book.

I have a confession: At times, the circumstances have taken my breath away, in both good and bad ways.  To say parts of it have even angered and shaken me would be an understatement. In fact, it has more often than not brought me to my knees.  But…

“That’s where I do my best fighting,” she says quietly, resolutely, a spark of fire in her eyes.

After the health scare we had where only the mercy of God sustained our son, it went from one thing to another, including the loss of my job.  In the months which have followed, I have been lied to, lied about, maligned, falsely accused, and even threatened to be arrested.

I have a confession: Yes, I have been threatened with arrest.  No, that was not a typo.  Based on lies and a false witness and a hatred I can neither understand nor explain.

All from a small handful of fellow believers, or what is left of the shriveled remains of what once was likely true believers.  And with our faithful Father, they may be again.  What happened to rot the fruit on their spiritual trees, I cannot know, and quite honestly, I do not sit in judgement over them.  God is their judge.

That said,  Jesus tells us we can know a tree by its fruit.

Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.  You will recognize them by their fruits.”

I know of many people who want nothing to do with Christianity because of the wolves in sheep’s clothing who have misrepresented God to them.  Dear ones, I have another confession: I have been at the receiving end of some of these same kinds of people.  They are out there, yes.  They claim to know God and be children of God, yet they do the work of the devil, most of them pitifully unaware that the devil is using them in such a vile way.

But you know what?

Please hear this: even Jesus called out those kinds of people.  Keep in mind, though, it was not unbelievers or new believers He called out.  It was the religious leaders, the prophets, those who spoke on behalf of God to His people, and those who claimed brotherhood with the faithful.

And do you know what Jesus called those who misused their sacred positions?

He called them hypocrites, blind guides, a brood of vipers, false prophets, children of hell.  He even told some of them that their father was the devil!  We must not allow wolves in sheep’s clothing to help us define our perfect God simply because they claim to represent Him.  Jesus gave His disciples, and therefore us, many warnings and signs on how to “know them by their fruit.”

These kinds of people have fruit which, from a distance, seems to be within keeping with the Holy Spirit.  But a personal encounter with their kind of tree reveals that their fruit is poisoned and rotting, covered in the venom of wasps and vipers.

A brood of vipers.

I’m not just talking about a bad day that needs some extra grace.  I’m talking about being characterized by threats, lies, false accusations, and so much pride they would rather trample me with more threats and false accusations than dare to hear they might have made a mistake, and as a consequence, they mentally and emotionally flogged me in error.  God forbid they actually knew what they were doing and still persisted with their treatment of me and my family.  Either way, they lack basic evidence of the fruit of the Holy Spirit.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.”

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Let me back up a little…

It was February 12th, nearly midnight, when we made the decision to take our son to the hospital.

Having just gotten over the stomach bug running through our youngest and then myself, it went on to our middle child, Gideon.  This thing was unlike anything I had experienced before.  We don’t tend to catch these things in our family, but we had been under some external stress from the environment in which we lived and worked, especially over the previous three or four weeks.  False accusations, exaggerations, lies, and then not allowing the other adults–who had witnessed the scene for which my son was being accused– to speak up, and we were all sufficiently stressed and drained.

Weakened immune systems, exhaustion, and just the fact that this thing was a violent illness, and we were down for the count.  Gideon got hit Wednesday, and then seemed to be recovering.  But then, strangely, he started going downhill Thursday afternoon.  By Friday, I was getting concerned.  His cheeks were gaunt, the circles under his eyes deep and dark, his breaths were rapid and shallow, and he was sleeping all day.  His appearance was beginning to frighten me (the photo below doesn’t capture nearly the sunken darkness around his eyes).

Gideon before the hospital
His appearance was beginning to frighten me…

That night, Robert and I were greatly concerned.  We wavered back and forth.

If we take him, they’ll tell us he has the bug and needs to stay hydrated, and we’ll have paid an emergency room visit for nothing.

If we don’t take him, and it’s something serious, we could risk hurting him and regret it for the rest of our lives.

But the odds are, from past experience, it’s going to be nothing and we are going to be left with a hospital bill just to be told, “Keep him hydrated.”

And those were just my own thoughts.

But we had been praying for wisdom, and I began to feel within me that this was different than all the other health crises we had faced in the past.  God was so faithful to put a sense of an ominous storm over my spirit, and Robert and I could feel this was too big for us to handle on our own.  Whatever was going on with our son was far outside of my limited knowledge, and we needed help.  And fast.

As we made the decision to take him to the Children’s Hospital near us, he began to scream of pain in his back.  Once there, he was weak and could barely walk.  I went to the counter to check him in, and he went to go lay down on the chairs.  He was already asleep when I sat beside him just a couple of minutes later.  Within moments, a nurse came out to call us back.  I tried to wake Gideon up, but it was difficult, and he could hardly stand, he was so weakened.  The nurse got him to the wheel chair, and we were taken back to get started with initial vitals.

“Does diabetes run in the family?” he seemed to ask routinely.

“No,” I answered, exhausted from my own illness the days before then nursing two sick children in the midst of it. I hadn’t slept for a day at this point.

Robert looked at me.  “I had type 2 diabetes,” he said.  I could hear the surprise in his tone that I had forgotten.  Indeed.  But he had been free of it for almost fifteen years.  I guess I have another confession: Yes, I had forgotten.

The two nurses in those brief moments had only started taking his blood pressure and heart rate, and upon the utterance of this information, exchanged a glance of concern which I did not miss.  In fact, I read something serious in their look that down right frightened me.

“We’re going to take Gideon in to our big room,” one of them began to explain to us gently and quickly, “and a whole team of doctors and specialists are gonna swoop in.  There’s gonna be like twenty-six people in there all at once.  It’s gonna feel overwhelming and maybe kinda chaotic, but instead of us having them come in one at a time, they will all be working together, all at once, to figure out what’s going on.  And then we can find out what’s going on more quickly.”

Yeah, this was big.

Within minutes, we had the diagnosis.  His blood sugar was too high to be read and they were re-running it on another device.  780.  His blood glucose was 780 (normal is 80-120), he had diabetic ketoacidosis (a life-threatening, medical emergency), and he had a slightly altered mental state.


I fell to my knees.  How was he going to handle this news?  Tears.  Life would forever be different.  He would be so crushed!  How would we tell him?

I have yet another confession: I am one of the least disciplined people in the world.  The only thing I do the same every day is breathe, and that’s not even my responsibility!  And I was just handed a disease which requires discipline or I could accidentally end up killing my child.  I was completely overwhelmed.

They hooked him up to IV’s and readied him to transport over to the main campus at Cincinnati Children’s.  Robert went ahead of me to meet us there, and I stayed with Gideon to ride in the ambulance.

After having been by my baby’s side briefly, not wanting to be in the way, I sat in the hallway and had a moment.  You know, that moment where you are exhausted and worn out and overwhelmed, and you are just handed a new normal and can’t imagine being able to ever adjust.  The social worker sat there with me on the floor handing me tissues, being the voice of God’s comfort.  I wish I could remember her name.

I felt foolish for crying over diabetes. It was a manageable disease we were just handed.  Not a death sentence.  And I said as much.  But the arms of God were in her arms as she hugged me, and while I felt I was receiving my new orders in life with all the dignity of a puddle, she gave me grace and made me feel brave.

I have one more confession: In the midst of this new storm, I was exhausted, frightened, overwhelmed, and lost at sea.  I felt these waves were crashing over me more than I was walking on them.  But one step at a time, I was already able to see God’s hand in this.

To be continued…


Stay tuned!  In my next blog post, I will share about the many “I saw that” moments just in this small part of the story.

And for some light entertainment and some even lighter education, watch this Studio C episode about diabetes!










The Silent God

SilentDo you ever wonder…

Adam and Eve must have passed on stories to their children of walking with God in the garden.  Personal conversations.  The kind you have with intimate relationships.  Beautiful.  Meanginful.  Deep.

God actually walked and talked with His creation.  That is, before everything went wrong because of sin.

But that’s also the moment the Rescue Plan was set into motion.  The moment the spark hit the powder trail.  Not the moment it was conceived, mind you.  It’s not like our need for a Savior was an afterthought to a desperate situation that came as a surprise.

No.  God– all Three parts of the fullness of Himself– already knew and planned the Rescue before they ever spoke into existence the foundation of the earth.  Before God’s Eternal voice broke the silence of nothingness.  Before the first explosion of “Let there be light.”  Before the first affirmation “And God saw that it was good.”  Before the temporal and the eternal collided on the same timeline… they had a Rescue Plan already in place (see here).

Jesus knew it all.  He helped plan it all.

But first…

While the Rescue Plan was being put into motion, there would be evidence of what making ourselves our own gods would do to us.  The pain.  The brokenness.  The despair.  The darkness.  The futileness.  The destruction.  The evil.

And in the midst of it all, God chose a people through whom He would do His greatest work.  He would reveal Himself to them, lead them, guide them.  He would speak to them through signs and wonders and prophets and clouds and fires and burning bushes and manna from the sky and water in the dessert and dead brought back to life and…

Yeah, there’s a big, HUGE list.

For hundreds of years, God’s presence was known by His people.  The only time they were without it was as a consequence of their sin.  God would remove His presence from among them to give them what their rebellion wanted: life as their own gods.  Their own choices.  Playing by their own rules.  And every time they hit rock bottom, where our sin always takes us, they would call out to Him and He would restore them into a right relationship with Him.

Rescued again.

In the midst of all the harshness and reality of the consequences of sin recorded in the Old Testament, those stories are also full of God’s mercy and love, wooing His people and running after them.  A love that never gives up.  A faithful God to an unfaithful people.

And then…

Four hundreds years of silence.  Four hundred years!  Not just a single generation or two, where parents or grandparents could say, “I remember when God still spoke…”  There came a time when no one living had ever heard God speak.  Not through His prophets. Or out of a bush.  Or through an angel.


Just silence.

The God who had spoken the Universe into existence, and gathered a people to Himself, and taught them to follow Him, and wooed them and fought for them and rescued them time and time again, was silent.

Hundreds of years of relationship and evidence of God’s presence working intimately and personally in their lives, and they were suddenly in deafening silence.  Why?

I don’t know.  Maybe He was working on something that “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, Nor have entered into the heart of man The things which God has prepared for those who love Him” (1 Corinthians 2:9).  Maybe in the silence He was laying the most important pieces of their plan.

Maybe His silence was the the very thing that would make His people desperate to hear from Him.  Maybe it had a purpose…

If you are in a silent season with God, know this: He has promised to never leave us or forsake us.  As a redeemed and adopted child of the Most High God, we have a seal of ownership set over us, the Holy Spirit of God, and He is a deposit of God Himself guaranteeing what is to come (see here).  So, if He is silent right now, or has been for what seems four hundred years, we have His Word, we have His Spirit, we have His promises.

Hold on, your Rescuer is coming for you!

And remember: God’s longest time of silence brought at the end of it His greatest gift to the world.

Come, thou long expected Jesus…