When all that's left is to believe

If you're viewing this via Facebook, this is the 7th in a series of posts that tell a larger story. If you are so inclined, you can read the rest by checking out my profile, or by going to my blog at http://andsoiask.blogspot.com/

-----

If you've been a regular visitor to my blog, you might know of my recent commitment to fitness. One of the results of that was a long period of time when I would take my dog for long (30-45 minute walks on most evenings). That pattern has slowed in recent weeks, due to a combination of diminished evening light, and the accompanying diminished warmth, but while that was going on, I often found myself with lots of time to my thoughts, and obviously, while I was walking through everything I described, my thoughts often turned to Lynn while I was on these walks.

One day, and I don't exactly remember when in all of this it was, but it's not really important, as I was thinking about Lynn and processing everything again, the hook of a song came into my head. It was a song that I know I hadn't heard in at least 7 or 8 years, quite likely closer to 10. And I'd be willing to bet that most of you have never heard the song, because as best as I can tell it never made its way onto the radio. It was an album cut off a CD by a guy named Clay Crosse. I'm pretty sure the only reason I ever heard it was because I own the CD. The chorus of the song goes like so:

When all that's left is to believe
I give my doubts and fears to You
And fall down on my knees
I may not have the answers now
But You give me what I need
So Father I will cling to You
When all that's left is to believe

There I was again, fighting back tears. There may have been times in my life when a song or lyric spoke as directly to my heart as this one did in this moment, but there certainly haven't been any where one spoke more directly to me.

When you boil everything I've shared over the last number of posts down - when you strip away all the nuances and complexities of circumstance, when you look through everything that has or hasn't happened since September 10, 2007, the simple fact of the matter is that I've been left with a choice. It's the choice Abraham faced when God promised him a son, and then later faced when God asked him to sacrifice that very son; the choice that Shadrach, Meshach, and Abendego faced before the fiery furnace; the choice that Daniel faced before the lion's den; the choice that Stephen faced before the angry mob; the choice we read about time and time again Hebrews 11 - the very same choice we all face in any crisis of faith - the choice to believe, or not to believe.

Over the last two years, anything else that myself, or anyone who cares about Lynn, could cling to for hope has been stripped away, and all that is left is our Father - His Word, His promises. Do I believe that God spoke to me 2 years ago? Do I believe (or better yet, am I "fully persuded") that He is able to do what He promised? The answer to both those questions for me is "Yes." And so I cling to my Father, because there's nothing else left to do.

You know, the doctor's visit where Lynn was given 3 to 6 months to live was in mid-August. If you do the math, you'll quickly understand that we are moving into the early part of that range. When I was with him this past Saturday, he told me how fragile he felt - that one big coughing or gagging spell could do him in, that this was really coming into the final few weeks. That paints a very bleak picture. His response to that was "My healing is right around the corner." And you know what, sitting here today, I can tell you that I believe that too.

Are we fools for such belief? To be honest, I've stopped caring about the answer to that question. The Scripture is full of people who looked awfully foolish for believing God - right up until the point where He stepped in and fulfilled his promise. I acknowledge my imperfect ability to comprehend God, my bias in the situation, and the accompanying fact that I could have read this all wrong, but that's not what I believe, and I choose to cling to what I do believe until circumstances compel me to do otherwise. That time has not yet come.

Not that any of this makes it easy. My eyes were wet yet again as I pulled away from Lynn's house on Saturday - they've been wet at various times as I've been writing over the last many days, and they heading that direction right now. The physical reality hasn't changed, and the picture I can see with my eyes gets worse day by day. But I stand in the spirit of those 3 Hebrew captives I mentioned earlier as they were before the fiery furnace in saying that I know the God I serve is able to deliver Lynn from this disease, and I believe that He will, and yet whether he does or doesn't, He is still God, and there is no one else worthy of my worship.

So that's it, the full story, and perhaps now you understand why I'm sharing it now, even as things look their bleakest. This is where I've been, and I'm driving this stake in the ground to say that, come what may, this is what I believe, and I'm not ashamed of it, at least not anymore.