The Gentle Ways of God

 

Today it has been a year since the rainy January afternoon when I held the hand of my love as she took her final breath.  As I reflect on this chapter of my life which in many ways has closed, it is really the gentleness of God that stands out to me and my family as He has led us down this path.  I would like to share a few parts of the story that have given us strength along the way.

Our first year working at a rural mission hospital in Malawi was coming to an end, and we were preparing for our first long awaited return to the United States. One day our good friend Sharlene had a dream.  In the dream she saw that I was crying big man tears and mourning the loss of Shallena and our Malawi home.  On the same night I had a dream that we had to return to the United States unexpectedly.  One or two months later (I cannot remember now), Shallena received the news that she had aggressive Stage 0 Breast Cancer.  After surgery and recovery, we returned to Malawi six months later.  Now, why did we have those dreams?  Why was the premonition given that something would go wrong?  I see it as the gentle ways of God.

Three and a half years later Shallena had returned to the United States before me to prepare to have our third baby!  Our life was coming together – we had settled into our mission, we had our third baby on the way, our relationship was as strong and settled as ever, and we were so excited!  Before the baby came she had an ultrasound that showed two spots on her liver…old fears came rushing back, and while we tried to explain it away, three weeks later, and one week after our little Caleb was born, she was diagnosed with Stage 4 Metastatic Breast Cancer.  Why were we given the warning?  I see it as the gentle ways of God.

Our family relocated back to the United States where we were cared for by family, friends and strangers.  We received food, housing, notes, cards, encouragement, a not insignificant amount of money, and everything else we needed to set up a new life in America. One friend in particular (who Shallena had never met in person), obedient to God’s impressions, started writing her specific encouraging messages that gave her strength for the entirety of her 6-year journey with metastatic cancer.  Then there were the other friends that we had never met who packaged up food and froze it, and then sent it to us on dry ice.  I can still remember those big, insulated boxes on our doorstep – we still have a couple of the green smoothies in our freezer.  You may call this coincidence or community – I call it the gentle ways of God.

As Shallena’s cancer got worse, and treatments began to take their toll on her health, her ability to have deep spiritual insights or conversations decreased.  She always read the Bible, and loved the Psalms, but I still remember a season when she was overcome with God’s goodness and personal love for her (something she had struggled with at times).  Just a month or so before her first brain surgery she settled into it.  “He loves me” was the simple song of her soul, but that settling gave her peace through surgery, as well as for the journey.  You may call this making peace or settling, I call it the gentle ways of God.

A little less than a year and a half before Shallena died, she had a stroke.  Just prior to her stroke, she had received bad news about the progression of her cancer with diminishing options for treatment.  This weighed on her mother’s heart as her single greatest desire was to raise her children.  In frustration and desperation, she called out to God – just like David in the psalms.  In acquiescence she left what she could not control to His sovereignty.  Five days later she had a stroke.  Now the stroke is a major pivot in our family’s timeline.  When mommy came home from having a stroke, she looked pretty normal, but was not the same.  She was more than happy for Caleb to have 5 deserts, to take a shower for one and a half hours, and eat a whole apple pie.  Her brain had been damaged, and that was a challenge to all of us, but she also lost the deep and acute anxiety over her personal welfare as well as the loss of her children’s future.  In her natural state, she would have suffered intensely as she lost her vitality.  In a sense, the stroke relieved from her the heavy weight and anxiety of her mortality.  It also gave our family a transition period where we could learn to function without the mommy who used to do everything in our home.  You may call this the progression of cancer – I call it the gentle ways of God.

Then a year later Shallena was in dire straits with uncontrolled brain metastases.  Her strength and brain were failing as we feebly struggled to keep hope alive.  A second brain surgery was done to remove a large tumor.  After this surgery she no longer had any anxiety about her condition.  However, she then had a third brain surgery as there was swelling in her brain which was causing headaches.  After the third surgery she did not have any cancer-related pain. You may call this modern medicine; I call it the gentle ways of God.

Despite the surgeries and treatments, her condition deteriorated.  When she could not talk, she still joined us in our songs for evening worship in the hospital.  Then the day came for her to be discharged home on hospice.  It was the day after Thanksgiving, and despite all the time I had to prepare, I was sad and emotionally unprepared.  I feared what the day would mean, but it was time.  Then early that morning – around 4 or 5 am, I had a brief dream.  I dreamed I was sitting in my chair in our bedroom when suddenly a strong wind started to blow.  This wind was mighty but not terrifying.  It lifted me from the chair I was sitting in and instantaneously launched me into the air.  As I flew, the only thought that I could think of was, “Lord, help me to be faithful”.  I awoke and knew that my life was changing, but that the power of God would hold me.  I went through hospice with a peace and calm I did not have the day before.  You may call it a dream; I call it the gentle ways of God.

The gentleness continues.  Now one year after losing Shallena our family mourns her absence, but we also remember her beauty.  Her sweet laughter, sassy smile, blunt honesty, deep loyalty, love of children and nature, and her faithfulness to God.  There is still a big vacant place here, but by God’s grace we move forward together.  God has given our family joy during sorrow - making music together, a growing farm (both animals and plants), just the right people at just the right time (with just the right food 😊) to help walk us through this journey. Through it all, the dark and the light, He promises to “make all things beautiful” in His time.  So, this year as we remember the loss of Shallena, we also celebrate the goodness of the God she loved and look forward to the beauty that is coming!

“He has made everything beautiful in its time.  He has also set eternity in the human heart…” Eccl 3:11.

Thank God for Pain

Merry Christmas, everybody.  I hope this season is full of joy and peace for you.  It is truly a season of awe and wonder, as we remember the inconceivable goodness and condescension of our God.  The self-existent omnipotent potentate of time was “made flesh and tabernacled among us” to seek and save the lost.  How that should fill our hearts with joy!

As we celebrate, however, there is an undeniable inconvenient truth that we cannot escape – the joy of the holidays is tempered with pain.  All the light of the festivities and traditions can take a dark turn when somebody special is missing.  This year has been a tough year.  My family said goodbye to the author and lover of our home earlier this year when my beautiful wife was laid to rest.  Approaching the first advent season without her is hard.  It’s not the same filling stockings when the one who bought and filled them isn’t here – when the “Mommy” stocking stays in the dark storage bin instead of hanging by the fireplace.  Decorating the tree is somewhat empty when the one who bought all the ornaments is gone.  Decking the halls to joyful Christmas tunes is sad without the one who loved Christmas so much she started singing “Joy to the World” in July.  Making a fire and sipping warm tea by the Christmas tree lights just isn’t the same by yourself.  This pity party could go on and on, but I have a new suggestion for myself and anybody else who is in pain this Christmas – thank God for it.

Now, if I were you, and you were writing this piece, I would stop reading right there.  I am a busy single parent, and I don’t have time to waste reading thoughtless trite superficial mindless pleasantries that sound pious and lack any substance whatsoever.  We live real life.  We feel real pain, and it doesn’t do us a bit of good to walk around blindly pretending to be fine and thankful for that which wrings our heart out at night.  The effects of sin in this world are hideous, and the work of the enemy is terrible.  In no way would I suggest we be thankful for that, it is deplorable.  No, that is not what I am talking about, it is not what I desire, and if I haven’t lost you yet, I hope you can hang on for this.

We avoid pain at all costs, but I would like to consider together for a moment the tremendous symbolic value of pain.  Now it is true that you must be alive to feel pain, and the perception of pain is a wonderfully designed system to give us feedback.  It is also true that when our nerves die and we feel no pain (whether physical or spiritual) we are also dying. In a very concrete sense, the perception of pain tells us we are alive and helps to keep us alive -- that is good.  However, that is not the symbolic value of pain to which I am referring.  No, I would suggest that the very fact that pain and loss exist are reasons to celebrate – not that we relish pain and loss – not at all, but rather that we are free.

Patrick Henry is famous for his courageous cry of the human heart in 1775, “Give me liberty or give me death”.  His plea has encapsulated and in many ways promulgated the core value that the United States was founded on and is famous for – freedom.  What does it mean to be free and what does that have to do with pain?    

Let’s take a step back for a minute.  If you or I were to design the cosmos, we would want to design it perfectly.  Now, your perfect and my perfect would probably look different as there are infinite opportunities for variation, but it would function perfectly the way we designed it, and doubtless that would not include pain.  Now, if it were a simple automation, and if we were infinitely powerful, then we could exist with our machine forever.  The system would function according to its perfect design, and we would go on in perfection forever.  We could design a flying Tesla and ride it all over the universe.  Yay! Simple….but lonely.

However, if we were to add intelligence and love into our equation, then we would have a very different situation.  If our creation had the luxury of intelligence, then it would have the obligation of choice.  And if our version of perfection included love, then we would have to honor that choice.  Suddenly, our simple perfect eternity is much more complex.  If our creation was intelligent, free, and loved, then could it make a wrong choice?

Okay, back to reality…the Bible tells us that Adam and Eve were created free and perfect in the Garden of Eden.  God gave them the ability to choose, and they made a bad choice.  There it is!!  That is why we should be celebrating our pain this Christmas!  We take for granted the love and freedom that are the undergirding of our existence, but it did not have to be that way.  Have you ever considered that we could truly live in a Universal Autocracy mindlessly serving Evil Dictator forever?  Even worse, we could have been engineered to be content with that existence, without ever questioning why it was that way.  Ignorantly pursuing the mundane prescription into oblivion.  No option to be good or bad, just existent.  That would be an eternal Hell, and it could have happened.

But we are the objects of grace, and thank God it didn’t!  No…that is not the nature of our God.  Look at the evidence of how much He loves us.  First, we can rebel.  This is evident all over the earth.  When you hear the bad news coming over the line, see in it the handwriting of righteousness – God gave us freedom to make bad decisions because He loves us.  When you hear a theory that says life came from spontaneous generation, think of the wisdom and love of a Creator who has set His creation free to think, and believe deception if they so choose.  When you meet somebody who has rejected a God who has allowed bad things to happen, assure them that a God who would not allow bad things to happen would be so much more worthy of rejection (even though it would be impossible). 

No, my friends, as I sit here on this Christmas couch alone by the fire and lights, we have a reason to rejoice in our tears.  The truth of Christmas is that in infinite love and wisdom the eternally loving God we serve has allowed for sin and pain.  The earth bears the scourge of the curse, and we all pay a price for it, but love could have it no other way.  The Lamb of God we worship in the manger was slain “from the foundation of the world” because He would rather die than take away our freedom. God knew that rebellion would come, and in infinite love He has allowed it.  Rather than dictatorial force, He has shown that His omnipotence is made perfect in weakness, and that the attractive magnetism of that Baby born in a manger will in time subdue all rebellion, and sin will never arise again.  While we feel the pain of freedom abused, we can look forward to a day soon when He will, “wipe every tear from their eyes” because the “old order of things has passed away”. 

If you are in pain this Christmas, I have one wish – please don’t reject God because of it.  As my late wife Shallena has said, “It makes no sense to reject God in our pain when we need Him the most”.  He suffers the pain with us – real, life-wrenching pain – and He points us forward to when the curse is gone, and these tears will be wiped away.  He weeps with us, He rejoices over us, He is coming soon to save us once and for all, when love will forever triumph.  “Even so, come [again!], Lord Jesus!” Rev. 22:20.

Merry Christmas, Friends.

Pain

 

“Oh, God!....” The words burst from the depths of me as the tears burst from my eyes.  The wife of my youth - the one who had loved me for better and worse, given me three beautiful children, taught me the abc’s of intimacy and love, and shared my greatest hopes and dreams, had breathed her last.  As I looked at her lifeless form, my soul recoiled from the reality – I was alone.  I sobbed and wailed, I felt anger and confusion, but below it all I felt peace and pain.  Peace because for 45 years God has never failed me; pain because Shallena was gone.

So what are we supposed to do with pain?  I grew up thinking that pain was a scourge that would never come near my door.  My life was not perfect, nor perfectly happy, but pain was a stranger that I didn’t want to spend any time in my house.  It was bad, and something to be avoided at any cost. When it ventured near me I had to call it something different, because I didn’t want to be associated with “pain”.

Then I met Shallena – she was so sweet and beautiful that I couldn’t keep her at a safe stolid arm’s length.  She cozied up to me, and came right on inside.  How blessed was I to spend 20 years married to this beautiful person.  But I paid for that intimacy.  The risk of love is pain, and the pain in my life from losing her cannot be denied.  Now I have a new companion - pain.  What is a Christian response to pain?

I don’t know.  I don’t want to pretend to know, but as I have pondered this for awhile, there are a few things I have realized that I thought I would share about the pain of grief.

1    Why do I always want to look good?  I don’t know exactly why I feel instinctively a desire to cover up the pain in my life, but I do.  It’s probably pride in some form or another, but I am far more comfortable with a fake “fine”, than an honest “hurting”.  In reality I am hurting, but I don’t really want to look like I’m hurting.  I suppose if I were to think deeply about it, the instinctive cover-up probably comes from a version of religious culture that would say something like, “Good Christians are always happy because God is good.”  I could probably still agree to most of that, except for one thing – that is not how God relates to sin in this world.

2.      Pain is GODly.  I don’t want to get too far off on this, but when I read the Bible story , I see a hurting God.  Jesus wept at Lazarus’ tomb, was a Man of sorrows, cried over Jerusalem, bled and died.  The pain in His life is far more apparent in the gospel narratives than even the joy.  Job worshiped in the middle of his pain, Jeremiah said, “Oh, that my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears! I would weep day and night for the slain of my people.” Jeremiah 9:1. Paul and Moses both wished that they could be cut off from God and give up their own eternal life if that could save those they loved (Exodus 32:32, Romans 9:1-3). God Himself, and the godly people in the Bible felt pain.  Pain is a godly response to what sin has done.  This is what the righteous feel when sin is wreaking havoc in the world. There is joy, there is peace, and faith and hope and love, but there is also pain – a lot of it.  Let’s be honest about that.  An enemy has done this.  Every single person reading this knows pain, and that is a godly response to what sin has done.  Its okay to be hurting. As Shallena taught me, “I am thankful for the tears to help let the pain out.”

3.      Pain should be embraced not treated.  Grief hurts.  Like a headache, a fever, a broken arm it hurts, and so we just want it to go away.  But the hurt springs from the depth of our love.  Many feel that to show pain is weakness – I have thought this.  In reality, when we grieve from love, our pain shows strength and power.  To numb the pain would be to numb the love – a path that slowly extinguishes who we are, and leaves only a smoldering shell of our God-given selves behind. 

As Shallena’s health deteriorated over the last year I noticed a very strange desire in myself.  I don’t drink alcohol, I don’t want to drink alcohol.  But three months before she died, I had an almost overwhelming urge to drink.  I couldn’t explain it in any other way than to say that I wanted to numb the pain.  I could see where this story was headed, and I didn’t want to go there.  But to numb the pain at that time would have removed me as a [somewhat] coherent and useful husband and father at a time when my wife and kids needed me the most. It was primetime in my life, and I was looking for a back alley escape. To deny or numb pain will only extend its power over our lives. To embrace it softens us and gives us more love, which is exactly what we need.

So what do we do then with this unwanted feeling?  That’s what I’m sitting here trying to figure out.  I can only point to those who have gone before as an example.  Crying in ashes Job worshiped God with tears.  Though heartbroken, Jeremiah faithfully delivered God’s messages to a stubborn and rebellious people.  Paul – despite rejection after rejection from the people he loved - longed to take the gospel to the Jews, and eventually paid for his love with his life.  Jesus – our example -- as a “man of sorrows”, kept giving every day, healing, teaching, loving, forgiving. He gave everything.  “So then, those who suffer according to God’s will should commit themselves to their faithful Creator and continue to do good.” 1 Peter 4:19. 

If you are a faithful one who is suffering, I have encouragement for you this Easter weekend. This is a once in an eternal lifetime opportunity to worship God in our pain.  It is easy to praise our Creator when everything is lining up just the way we want it, and it will be impossible to resist praising God when the curse is finally gone.  However, it is a unique experience that we can only have at this point in eternity's clock to worship our Lord with tears and anguish.  Oh how those tears will bind our hearts to Him in a deeper bond than even the angels can know.  This pain that we don’t want is an invitation to a deeper love with our Creator.  Let’s cry and love deeper.  We are His for better or for worse, and He is worthy of our worship in joy and pain.

“So then, those who suffer according to God’s will should commit themselves to their faithful Creator and continue to do good.” 1 Peter 4:19.  

Grieving with God

“We would say death is…(long somewhat awkward pause)…imminent”. The hospice nurse gave me a knowing look, and I felt a heightening of a thousand emotions that had been swirling around my heart. Shallena - my bride of almost 21 years was dying.

The nurse left, and we were alone.  It was a rainy day in a rainy month – a fitting backdrop for the goodbye I didn’t want to say. Shallena was home on hospice.  Not eating, not drinking, essentially unable to move.  But hope is strong, and I found every possible reason to hope!

Just three nights ago I had crawled in her bed and snuggled up to her. For well over an hour and a half we talked. Well, I talked, and she responded with any way she could - nonspecific vocalizations at times, wiggly toes at times, whole body wiggles for the really important ones. I told her I had not given up on her, I told her we were thinking about doing a children’s church in Crestline (wiggly toes and vocalizations), I told her I thought maybe I shouldn’t snuggle with her as it might be uncomfortable (full on fit!!), I told her I was understanding the children more, and I realized Caleb needed extra attention as he is only six (contented vocalization and soft wiggly toes). She stayed awake far longer than expected, and we just talked over our life.

Now she was really dying, and for our last afternoon together I read her the sturdy Scriptures – “I am the resurrection and the life”, “He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty”, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble”.  I sang/cried her the goodbye song I had written and sang/cried 23 years earlier when she was leaving for Albania.  I held her hand and gave her morphine to try and ease her breathing. What is the right way to walk your love into the shadow of death?

When she had breathed her last, I felt something snap inside. Far below the level of conscious thought or reason, raw grief came pouring out like a flood I could not have expected or desired. At first it was hot anger - a relative stranger to me – just burning and seething for a few minutes.   Then in notes that I would never want to repeat, I gave voice to my grief. This went on for about 20 minutes, then I sat next to her dead body and just cried. I didn’t know what to do! How can you say goodbye to the best part of yourself? Especially when you have failed at love in so many ways you will never have again on this earth?

The next days/weeks/months brought all of the emotions of a mixed up basket case….

“Okay, a new day…The Lord gave, the Lord took away, May the name of the Lord be praised.” Sun's up, feeling a little bit normal, and maybe even a twinkle of hope. Then I walk into the closet, and there is Shallena’s bright pink Adidas shirt that always made both of us smile because she wore it for exciting days – hikes, rockhounding, and camping!!!  “She’ll never wear it again…boo-hoo-hoo…” I close the bedroom door to try and shield the kids a bit as I wallow around in my lost uselessness.

That little scene has played over and over again in the last couple months.

While nobody escapes the pain of grief, we don’t love to embrace it. It hurts.

I think I trust God in all this, but there are definitely unresolved parts, too.  The word that I think best describes my state of mind is “lost”.  I feel like I have lost part of myself – the best part, and I don’t know who I am any longer.  I accept the sovereignty and love of God, but I am trying to figure out who I am now? Part of me is missing.

I have also noticed that we are more comfortable in a room full of fake laughter than a room full of raw pain - but we all have raw pain. God has raw pain. Why do we try to gloss over our reality for a show that does nothing to help us?

I think it is because most of us are trying to live in functional denial of our mortality, but that does us no good. We know we are going to the grave - why do we try to deny it? Wouldn’t it be better to be prepared for that trip?

But I think there is a bigger opportunity in this grief, than just honest melancholy.  An experience that goes further than feelings, and an understanding that can only truly be experienced through significant loss.  I am just starting to understand it.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” Psalm 34:18.  Why is God close to the brokenhearted?  Doesn’t He love all the same?  I think He does. Then why a special closeness?  I’m sure there are many possible answer to this, but here is mine.

God is close to the brokenhearted because He is brokenhearted.  In all the vast animate creation, no being loves more than God – the great “I am” is “Love”. He doesn’t practice love or bestow and remove it - He is it.  As sin has frustrated His creation, He has lost those He loves – more than any other being. God has more “love with no place to go” than any of us.  I have lost one very special love this year – God has lost millions.  It turns out that sorrow and pain are very reasonable responses to the havoc sin has reeked all over our world. Jesus is described in Isaiah 53 as a “man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief”.  I used to read the Bible and hear a lot of anger in the Old Testament.  Now I hear a brokenhearted God saying, “Why will you die when I could help you?” 

“How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, Israel? How can I treat you like Admah? How can I treat you like Zeboyim? [cities near Sodom and Gomorrah].  My heart is changed within me; all my compassion is aroused.” Hosea 11:8. Here is brokenhearted God suffering agonizing grief. He is losing His love…again...and He is not losing His love to a short sleep which will end in resurrection, immortality, and eternal bliss.  She is not holding His hand as He sings to her – she is cursing Him to His face as the pale mottling of death creeps over her brow.  He is losing His love forever…again…and it hurts...again.   

Hear Him again in Ezekiel, “Turn! Turn from your evil ways! Why will you die, people of Israel?” 33:11.

When the “man of sorrows” God came to walk our sod, we hear the same cry – the same love.  “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing.” Matthew 23:37. Here is brokenhearted God clothed in humanity mourning over another love that is lost.  The grief of God can only be appreciated as we comprehend the love of God. He loves so much – He has lost so much.  What does God do with all of His love that has no place to go?

“Jesus wept” John 11:35. Deeply significant is this pain.  I’m sure that Jesus laughed – even  though I don’t remember reading it – but I know He cried.  He was still losing those He loved. It is easy to appreciate that there is a lot to weep about in this world.

As God has to give up those who reject Him – He grieves and mourns – as only a loving God can.  Some people call this His wrath, I call it His love.  Romans 1 describes this process in painful detail.

Now I know somebody will disagree with the idea of any brokenness or strong emotions in Almighty God - that He is so perfect, powerful and awesome that He cannot be affected by our insignificant pain. To this thought, I respectfully reply – Hogwash!  This is not the God of the Bible – especially not as revealed in Jesus.  He knows us, He loves us, He feels our pain, He mourns with us, and grieves when we reject Him.  He has eaten with us, wept with us, lost with us, bled with us, and died with us.  Our sin and brokenness have broken God’s heart.  He has lost more than any in this great controversy, and in His big omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent brokenness, He is near – right here near!!! – to those who are brokenhearted.

One day He will wipe our tears away and make all things new.  Today He weeps with us.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalms 34:18

A Special Kind of Love

 Shallena always had a special kind of love.

It was first seen in her family.  She loved her brothers and sister with a faithful fearless love.  When a mean boy tried to put Dale in a headlock, she hit him on the head.  When corrected, she pled guilty, but added, “I knew it was wrong, but I wanted to do it anyway.”  Many families deal with sibling rivalry – not with Shallena.  Her brothers and sister were God’s blessings.  I suppose that is why she wrote on Dale’s eraser, and put chocolate chips in Angela’s mac and cheese.  Why she adored her baby brother Levi, and spent hours on end playing with him, doting on him, and even crawling in his playpen with him.  She loved them so much, and thought how sad it would have been to be an only child.  It goes without saying she loved her parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and all the other branches on the family tree with the same loyal love.  For over 20 years Shallena shared with me – the luckiest of all - this special kind of family love.  She was the one who patiently listened to my frustrations, whispered in my ear, finished my sentences, and loved my life.  The one I planned with, dreamed with, fought with, apologized with, and prayed with.  I wish I had realized before how blessed I was to have a wife who loved me with no reserve and no regrets.  If you have somebody who listens to you and helps you, somebody who knows you and loves you anyway—somebody who can finish your sentences for you – you have a treasure.  Let them know how much you love them today.

Shallena had a special kind of love for children.  I was the baby of the family, and so I didn’t understand this for most of her life.  She would watch babies and small children, and she would understand and connect with them almost instantaneously.  Her big brown eyes would meet with theirs, and it was like they talked their own language – and now I believe this is the language of heaven.  She would watch their subtle actions, movements, words, and would know exactly what was going on.  She would throw back her pretty brown hair and laugh and play with them unrestrained – in all the innocence and wonder of childhood.  One of her favorite games to play with our children was to make their stuffed animals talk.  With her unique creativity and humor, those stuffed animals took on personas that amused and taught our children for years.  To her core she loved these precious little ones.  Her love of children flowed from a heart that was unencumbered by the baggage of pride and pretense.  She could be present with them in their simple innocence, and be completely happy.  It was this love of children that led her to become the founding principle of the Mentone SDA Team School in 2004.  It was an uphill climb, but she loved the children.  When the fruit of our love came to cry on our beds, she was there – listening, teaching, loving them every day.  Children, Mommy loved you with a very special kind of love.

Shallena had a special kind of love for the world.  As a child, her dad read her mission stories that thrilled her soul, and she resolved at a young age she wanted to be “one of them”.  When we met in college, it was our second conversation where we shared with each other our dream to be used by God to make the hurting world a better place.  She shared this love wherever she went.  Whether helping clean houses for older women who were a mess, lending a listening ear to a stranger who was hurting, or listening to downright creepy guys, her heart was always soft toward those in need.  She felt in herself the pain that others felt, and she suffered with them.  As a student missionary she requested to go to Belgrade – a hotspot in the ongoing Yugoslavian war at the time.  She was redirected to Albania – just next door – I was relieved to find that out!  When we lived in Malawi for three and a half years, there was a lot of pain in that community.  That resulted in a lot of suffering for her, but despite a rough and tenuous start, she found her place and lived her dream.  She was a missionary mommy for three and a half years of her life, and she could not have been more satisfied. The most meaningful and contented time of her adult life was our last year in Malawi.  I can remember sharing together the joy that God gave us – how blessed we were to share together the culmination of our childhood dreams.

Shallena had a special kind of love for beauty.  I have always thought flowers were pretty, but Shallena experienced them.  She would excitedly run and bend over and look at the intricate art of God that literally took her breath away.  She would take a deep breath and feel the perfume brighten her spirit – what a beautiful person she was.  “Oh, look, Jamie – isn’t it beautiful!!!”  The snow-capped mountains, a pretty agate or crystal, a flock of birds fanning their wings in vast formation, or the light dancing on the water literally took her breath away entranced in the wonder of divine creativity.  She didn’t just see the beauty of God in the world – she experienced and reflected it with all her beautiful self.  I can’t wait to see what she says when she sees heaven!

Shallena had a special kind of love for life.  Shallena was the sweetest person I have known – she was also one of the feistiest sweetest people I have ever known.  Some people thought she was only soft, but they soon found out they were wrong.  Her strong love of life and desire to be with her family was woven into her DNA and the fabric of her being.  For over nine years she lived with the threat that cancer brings, but she refused to live her life as if she were dying.  Giving up was never an option for her no matter the extent of personal sacrifice.  She has left us a glowing example of determination, perseverance, sacrifice, and faith.  She knew she did not control her own mortality, but she also knew she was bound and determined to do every single last thing she possibly could to have a little more time with her family.  For nine years she suffered through cancer and its treatments, but for nine years she recovered from them over and over again.  On the day she died, her sweet toes were still slowly wiggling.  Living was her choice, and God gave her the strength to do it day after day after day.  “For though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again.” Proverbs 24:16. The final rising will be on that great day when the sweet voice of Jesus calls her to rise and join those who will never stumble again.  Hallelujah!

Shallena had a special kind of love for God.  From a young age she wanted to serve Him.  As she grew she came to know Him more, and then she really wanted to love Him.  She always believed in something bigger than herself – the kingdom of heaven – and this gave her purpose in life even in the darkest of times.  It was beautiful to watch her grow into a deeper and deeper love for God.  As cancer and its treatment chipped away at her physical vitality, God bound Himself closer and closer to her heart.  She experienced His love, forgiveness, and healing on a deeper level because of her struggles.  This brought her so much joy in the middle of many sorrows.  She wrote her journey in her blogs, and they bespoke faith and love despite the daily mortal uncertainty she felt.  Blogs such as “He Loves Me” and “Once Upon a Lifetime”, “Now Choose Life” (printed in your bulletin), and “Being known”.  As her sojourn in cancer-land matured, her spiritual intimacy with God deepened.  She didn’t ask God “why me”, instead she asked, “why not me”?  She did not feel entitled to a life free from pain and loss.  She didn’t feel entitled to really anything – it was part of her beauty!  She prayed that her pain would be a blessing to somebody else.  She disciplined herself to write her ten daily gratitudes, no matter how she felt.  She shared her journey of pain and faith in her writing, and invited others to come and join her in trusting God in the middle of the unknown.  She was honest with her struggles, authentic in her journey, deep in her love, and steadfast in her faith. 

 I would like to take a brief moment here to say thank you.  Ever since Shallena’s original cancer diagnosis over 9 years ago, but more especially in the last 6 and a half years with metastatic cancer, there has been a God-ordained community that has rallied around our family.  As challenging as the road has been, God has loved us through this community.  Thank you for the encouraging messages, the admonitions, the food, the prayers, the songs, the unexpected gifts – the love in all of its various forms. I hope that nobody in this loving community feels disappointed in God now that Shallena is at rest.  Every Christian who dies faithful dies victorious.  This is a tribute to our loving God, and the way He encouraged Shallena through all of you kind-hearted people.

The special kind of love that I was privileged to share with Shallena is but a reflection of God’s love.  Shallena was not perfect – she was just a mortal like you and I – prone to err, but so eager to make wrongs right, and share in God’s grace.  We celebrate the way she lived it, and grieve that she is no longer with us.  On January 10, 2023 Shallena entered her rest – soundly and safely resting until Jesus comes again.  But the special kind of love that fueled her life – God’s love – is still burning strong.  He is still with us, and His love has not left us.  The most beautiful pieces of Shallena’s life were but a special demonstration of God’s creative power.  Now it is our turn.  Shallena’s work and love in this life are done, even though their influence lives on.  Now we get to take up the work – the sacred work of loving our families, loving children, loving the hurting world, loving beauty, loving life, and loving God.  The greatest tribute we could give to our sweet Shallena is to grow in our love for God and each other.  On her behalf, I invite each and every one of you to share in this abundant life, for that was the deepest desire of her heart.  No, more than invite, I plead with you -- if you have not surrendered your life to God, and given yourself over to His love, why don’t you do it today?  I can’t think of a better time, and this world desperately needs to know this special kind of love.  May God bless each of us today with more of His special kind of love.

“We love because He first loved us.” 1 John 4:19

Faith...or Demand?

***written by Shallena Crounse July 7,2020***

de·mand

/dəˈmand/

Learn to pronounce

noun

1. an insistent and peremptory request, made as if by right.

   "a series of demands for far-reaching reforms"
2. (Definitions by Oxford Languages)

I've heard it said often; perhaps you have, too. A young man falls and breaks his back. Doctors are sure he will be a paraplegic, but he heals completely. "That's my God!" he tells anyone who will listen. A woman is healed of a chronic disease. On social media she declares, "That's my God!" The stories go on and on. We all like to hear them, but I wonder about the sentiment.

It sounds like they are saying that they told God they needed healing and He did what they said. Does God take commands from humans? Is God your pet?

You turn things upside down, as if the potter were thought to be like the clay! Shall what is formed say to the one who formed it, “You did not make me”? Can the pot say to the potter, “You know nothing”? Isaiah 29:16

I have stage IV cancer. For four years I've struggled, body, soul, mind, emotions. Several people have told me that they believe that I will be healed. How I rejoice in the hope that gives! However, I am not in charge. If I were, my diagnosis would be very different! I could die from cancer. It's a reality that I accept, albeit begrudgingly sometimes. I ask God to heal me, yet what if it's better for His kingdom if I'm not healed? I don't get to tell Him what to do. My own children don't get to tell me what to do, and we are all humans! Just like children, I may make my request and wait for His answer, which I must accept. 

Do I trust Him? If I trust Him, I will not make demands. I will not try to tell my Creator what He must do with my life. I will simply ask. Faith is not faith if I always get what I want. Faith is not in the object desired. Faith--patient trust--is believing in the person of our heavenly Father. Believing in His goodness and love for me, my family, my children. 

Now Choose Life

****unedited - written July 1, 2019 by Shallena****

So many of you are saying that I am strong. It is God's strength, not mine! He always, always keeps His word, for He cannot lie and still be God. His love for you and me has no boundaries. Yes, there is pain and terrible suffering on this earth--we have witnessed it. We have lived overseas and we have experienced sorrow and loss in the USA as well. There are none of us immune to it on this earth. The truth I have found is that there is only One who will never leave you or forsake you, there is only one who can heal all your hurts and carry your burdens. Only one who is steady and will never fail you. It makes absolutely no sense in my mind for us to reject our ONLY enduring source of hope and help when life is hard, when we are blind with pain. Have you read the story of Jesus? The torture, emotional and mental abuse, and suffering He endured to give life to the very people who were murdering Him, for the very people who would continue to vehemently reject Him through the ages...it's enough to make your heart break daily. I couldn't read the story for years because it hurt so badly.

Friends, Jesus is REAL. I can tell you from my own life. He has freed me from shame and regret, He has given me peace that passes understanding though I did nothing to "make it happen." Tomorrow I have neurosurgery. They are going to drill holes in my head. If they had told me that two or more months ago, I could have literally had a heart attack from fear. Tonight I will sleep, when I'm not praying, giving my heart and family in gratitude back to the One who gave them to me.
I could never accept the death of Jesus was for me. I was too bad, too sinful, too messed up. Besides I hated it. I wanted nothing to do with the murder of someone so wonderful. Before God gave me freedom, He helped me realize that my feeling was actually false pride, backwards pride. And then, praise God, He helped me realize that He died to heal my diseases! Jesus died to heal and save even me! Then He let me know that He forgives and accepts me--me, the girl who has always felt unworthy of love and anything good. I have always realized that God has given me an exceeding good life, even though I didn't deserve it. I was always afraid that it was too good to be true and that it would be taken from me. But God has healed me, and while humanly speaking it does look like all the good in my life could be taken away, I am not afraid. I believe God will heal my body, whether on this earth or after, that is His choice. It is so clear in the word of God that His will is for you and me to be healthy and alive, and I trust Him to do this for me now. It is not difficult, friends! He cannot lie so you can simply trust Him, just like the sweet, innocent, trusting eyes of our little ones look at us when they plead for help. How we long to help our children! God longs to help us even more. It is your choice and mine.

 "...today, that I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. So choose life in order that you may live, you and your descendants, 20by loving the LORD your God, by obeying His voice, and by holding fast to Him; for this is your life and the length of your days... ."Deuteronomy 30:19, 20

Baby God

“Where is your God now?” a more-familiar-than-desired voice taunts inside my head. 

“You’ve prayed for healing for six years, and now your wife is dying.”

I want to deny any share in the genesis of this intrusive sentiment, but if I were honest, I own more than I would like to admit.  Over the last six years of living with metastatic breast cancer, I have prayed/pled/bargained/begged/fasted/wept to seek healing for my beautiful bride.  Every new round of chemo, all those tantalizing natural cancer cure protocols, anointing services, prayers of the faithful, vegetable juice, vitamin C, turmeric, Turkey Tail – an endless list of reasons to hope that we would find the elusive key to make the cancer disappear.  I would be remiss to negate the blessings and miracles we have experienced along the way (for they have been sundry), but the fact remains that tonight my wife labors to breathe with the aid of an oxygen concentrator – home on hospice.

Where is the God of the miraculous when the missionary wife you have prayed for can’t lift her head off her pillow? 

My mind knows He is here with us, and in my heart I believe that a miraculous healing would not be hard for Him.  No harder than it is for me to flip a pancake or open a door.   But sometimes it feels as though I am alone.  That I am not tracking with Him.  That in this murky grief, I reach for Him, but falter.

I don’t think I would have recognized Him then, either.  Unless I was specially favored to be a shepherd or a wise man, I would have missed him.  That night when the Baby God was born. 

Gods are supposed to be powerful.  Thunder and lightning bolts, legions of angels, supernatural strength, and otherworldly domination.  The gods order their dominion with uncontested might to subdue any inkling of rebellion.

How could a transcendent Deity be a baby?  No wonder things aren’t working out for me - a Baby God can’t solve the problems of the world – He couldn’t heal cancer or bring justice on earth, or squelch rebellion and sin…?

I am not a baby person.  I was the baby of the family, and so all those other kids didn’t really matter as they were more like competition than anything important.  Shallena has always been the opposite.  Babies have always been her world.  I can remember time after time when she would say to me, “look at that baby over there, isn’t that bow cute?” or “did you see what that little boy did?”  I was almost always in the middle of a thought that went something like, “…uhh…what?...no…there’s a baby?” I wish now I had shared these moments with her.

I just didn’t get it.  Even when we had our own, my attitude was more like, “Hey, why does the baby get all the attention around here…?”

She loved them.  She looked deep in their eyes, interpreted their subtleties, and connected with them from the youngest of ages.  They had a power of attraction over her that she could not resist.   Their purity, simplicity, innocence, and love captivated her.  Their winsome smiles and laughter magnetized her affections and mobilized her assets.  Once we had our own, there was nothing she would not give to take care of that little life that had joined ours.

So, there He is – the Baby God of Christmas– wrapped in swaddling clothes.  Ignored by the bustle.  Worshiped and venerated by the heavenly and a few faithful earthlings.  Why did they worship?  Why did everybody else miss it? 

I have always associated God with power.  I want a God that can order the universe, establish the right, heal cancer, and solve the earthly and galactic problems with finality.  I suppose this is a perfect set up for why I sometimes struggle to find God in my pain.  I don’t want pain, and therefore God should remove it.  I want Him to resolve my pain and give me what I want.  If He doesn’t, then I don’t recognize Him around here.

But the Baby God of Christmas has a different approach.  “God with us” didn’t erase all the problems of the sin-ridden sod.  He was hunted as an infant.  He grew up in poverty.  He was homeless.  His food came from friends and strangers.  He rode on a borrowed donkey.  He was the victim of an unjust system.  He owned one piece of clothing.  He endured false accusations and lying testimony.  He was beaten for wrongs He did not commit.  He was cruelly executed after being declared innocent.

This beautiful, humble, childlike God lived a harmless life on earth in purity, simplicity, innocence, and love.  He didn’t reverse the general order of this world, but He did introduce the new order of His kingdom.

“Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” Matthew 18:1

“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.” Matthew 18:3-5

That’s where Jesus is!  He’s over there with those insignificant children.  Shallena was right all along.  While I was hopelessly lost in ascending the ranks of the important ones (much like the dear disciples in this story), she was intently studying the kingdom of the Baby God.  These little precious ones more closely approximate the divine than all my Zeus and Shiva lookalikes.  Instead of looking for a Deity that would solve all our problems, she was relishing the joy of the imminent Immanuel.

Now I wouldn’t want to suggest that the beautiful Baby “God with us” can’t solve our problems.  On the contrary, “God with us” is the solution to all our problems. Sometimes He works miracles in the here and now, and I have no doubt He could do that for Shallena tonight.  Sometimes He allows the pain and loss for a season.  But do not be deceived - the childlike kingdom of the God Baby we celebrate this Christmas is snowballing. This kind of pure love cannot be overcome, and though the gates of Hell rail against it – they only magnify the goodness of it!  He wasn’t just a baby born of a virgin, He is a Divine Savior.  He guaranteed His promise of eternal safety with the shedding of His own blood. The power of sin and death has been broken, the grave has no hold on those who trust Him. This kingdom of kids – the government of the gentle, designed and secured by that sweet Baby of Bethlehem will grow until it fills all heaven and earth - an unstoppable force of grace.  “God with us” marches forward despite our brokenness and loss. And very soon we will see the Christmas Baby coming in the clouds to take us home.  “Amen. Even so, come Lord Jesus.” Revelation 22:20.

The oxygen concentrator is still huffing and puffing.  Shallena is still struggling.

“Where is your God now?” 

He is with us.  And I love Him so much.

Wiggly Toes

The time has come.  I didn’t want it to come, Shallena didn’t want it to come.  Our children and families didn’t want it to come, and it seems that most of the known world standing in solidarity with us - all you kindhearted people - also didn’t want it to come.

Nonetheless, the time has come and Shallena will be discharged home on hospice tomorrow - Thanksgiving Day 2022.

Hospice was always perceived as a bad word to Shallena.  All of the strength of her  independence and fire of her love would wilt into soft broken sadness when she heard the word.  She knew she did not control her ultimate destiny, but she was bound and determined to do every single last thing she could - no matter the personal sacrifice - if it meant that she would have a little more time with her children.  I suppose a lot of that has to do with being a young mom with young children.  It also has a lot to do with being Shallena.  

I have had many people tell me that Shallena is the strongest person they know.  I have to agree.  She never ran a marathon, or even a 5K to my knowledge.  We used to joke about how if we were bumper sticker people we would put a “0.0” on the back of our car.  In fact, she has had to fight to maintain the ability to walk over the last few years - but therein lies her strength.  

Shallena has never stopped recovering.  Whether from multitudinous chemo infusions that number somewhere in the hundreds, three brain surgeries, three breast surgeries, or the three different episodes of radiation, she has never stopped.  She has never given up.  Her fierce love - a deeply spiritual heritage from her God, her family, and her faith - always pushed her forward.  There could be no conversation about giving up as it could not be considered.  

Over the last few months as basic mobility has become a challenge, part of Shallena’s rehab has been doing leg exercises.  These exercises start with wiggling your toes, bending you ankles, lifting your knees…etc.  I would often walk in the room to see her wiggling her toes as she sat in the chair…exercising…recovering again.  She would look up at me with a twinkle in her eyes and a sweet smile on her face that said, “See, I’m getting better, again!”

I love the Therapists that have worked with Shallena - PT, OT, Speech Therapy.  They are her kind of people - “it’s time to get you back on your feet!”  “It’s time to get you going up stairs”, “I’m going to help you get better”.  They have seen her in the hospital, charted her progress twice in Rehab, and come to our house always helping Shallena to get better.  Most of their daily exercises start with wiggling the toes.

The last few days have been sobering.  Shallena has vacillated between sleepy to conscious to nearly unresponsive. We as her family have been talking about last treatment options and hospice, but she has not been able to participate in this discussion.  A couple days ago, as we came out of one of those meetings, I came back to see her…

“Hi Shallena, how are you?” 

No response, eyes closed.

“Are you feeling any pain, sweetie?”

No response, eyes closed.

“Let me see if your feet are warm”

I pulled back the blanket, and there were those cheerful wiggly toes just going back and forth!  

Even as I write this, and she appears to be sleeping peacefully, her toes are there wiggling away under the blanket - inviting me to come help her get better again.

Such is the strength of the indomitable spirit of Shallena.  Her body may fail her, but she will not give up.  I halfway expect her to wake up at home on hospice, whack me upside the head and say, “how dare you give up?!”

I have never loved Shallena more.  This is a time filled with emotion for all of our family.  Modern medicine has given us what it had to offer, and that - with the grace of God and Shallena’s perseverance - has given us six and a half years.  Now we take her home to where we submit her care to the Almighty.   We are His, Shallena is His, and He is good.  Therefore we do not need to fear, but we are very sad.  One thing is sure - as long as she has life and strength, she is not going to stop wiggling those sweet toes!

“They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength”. Isaiah 40:31

Trouble

I suppose you could call me a late bloomer, but I am just realizing, now that I have reached mid-life crisis zone, that I have spent most of my life trying to avoid trouble.

If fact, I don’t think it’s just me – I think most of us spend considerable time and money to avoid trouble.  Sometimes it would seem that with all of our modern conveniences that we live behind an impenetrable fortress where trouble cannot find us.  But it does.  Despite advances in science and technology, the testimony of scripture has not changed – “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.” Romans 8:22.  And as Jesus said – “…In this world you will have trouble...” John 16:33

So, then I have to ask the question – why do I spend so much time trying to avoid it?  And why am I so unprepared for it when it comes?

As I think about this, I have come to one answer – my Christianity is tainted.  Now, I would not blame this deficit on any deficiency of the Bible, or even my church, but rather the contamination of my own faith with popular materialism.  Materialism says there is no god, and no afterlife, and so the meaning in life is in living a secure, long, pleasure-filled, easy, trouble-free life.  As a worldly Christian, I reject atheism and embrace the concept of heaven, but I also love the idea of a long, secure, pleasure-filled, easy, trouble-free life.    

Now, you could say that is all well and fine, and as it should be…but is it?  Who am I really following?  Did Jesus do any of that?  His life was not long, He had no home, He did not seek His own pleasure – it wasn’t easy, and He had all kinds of trouble.  So why am I consumed with trying to avoid it?

Rather than trying to sidestep trouble, Jesus embraced it as a medium to glorify God.  In John 12:27, in referring to His ignominious death He says, “Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No. It was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father glorify your name!”

In September 2021, my wife Shallena – my best friend and love of my life – had a stroke.  She has been diagnosed with Stage IV Breast Cancer for over five years, and this brain bleed - resulting from enlarging brain tumors - was the most recent complication.  As I have struggled with the consequences of this stroke for her, for our family, and for her role in our family,  I feel the words of Jesus – “Now my soul is troubled.” But the difference is that unlike Jesus, I want to just give this trouble back.  “Lord, just take it away”,  “Please heal Shallena”, or in the faithful, daily prayer of my firstborn for the last five years, “…please help Mommy to get well.”  Like Paul, I have found myself pleading (far more than three times), for the Lord to take this thorn from us (2 Corinthians 12:8).  I still hope that happens.  I still pray for it, and I still say thank you to all those others who with love and faith bring our family before the Lord in prayer.  But so far, that has not happened.

When will my Christianity allow me to say, “No. Father glorify your name”?  Our cancer journey has been marked by our struggle to be free from cancer.  Shallena has had surgeries, radiation, five lines of chemotherapy, multiple biopsies and procedures.  We have prayed, we have fasted, we have had  anointing services,  we have eaten only vegetables, drank vegetable juice, paid thousands of dollars to naturapaths and lifestyle clinics, eaten cottage cheese and flax seed oil for weeks on end, and a whole lot more...  And while Shallena has done well – and looked well – unfortunately, the cancer has not gone away.  Furthermore, we have watched as many other travelling companions with cancer – dear faithful Christian friends - have been laid to rest in Jesus.  We lose a part of us with each one that dies.  When should our struggle to be cancer free acquiesce into a desire to glorify God? 

I know some will say, “God has not caused these troubles, and He is not glorified by them.”  I have to agree that God has not caused this.  He is the Author of life, how could He cause something as deranged as cancer?  But I would disagree that He cannot be glorified in them.  Going back to the example of Jesus – He was the only perfect human to walk the earth, but the persecution, injustice, and evil execution that he suffered – all at the hands of base man and demons – was the ultimate glorification of God. 

So, where am I going with all of this – one thought: maybe all of our troubles are a call to seek the glory of God?  In my materialistic self-centeredness, I want to get rid of these troubles.  Maybe this isn’t about us?  Maybe these troubles that are promised in this world should not be seen as resented enemies and foes, but a medium?  Maybe they are an opportunity that combined with simple daily trust in God’s goodness – can be a blessing to the world, and glorify Him?  Maybe they are the canvas upon which God is able to write, “My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:10. 

Well, thank you for being my therapy session again, as I work through this grief.  I’m not sure that all of these thoughts are right or make sense, but I know this paradigm gives each day meaning for us in our situation.  Rather than an omnipresent feeling of “losing”, it gives me one simple question for each day – “How can this day (and these troubles) glorify God?”