A Crisis in Faith

As a nursing home lay minister for twenty years I had seen my share of elderly residents pass away. I knew all the platitudes, such as death is a part of life, and they're in a better place now. I also knew how to comfort family survivors without becoming too emotionally involved.

Then Carol, my wife of thirty-five years, contracted cancer. Suddenly, everything was personal.

Cancer had a way of taking over every aspect of our lives. All of the oncology appointments, tests, chemo and radiation treatments, various shots and infusions we had never heard of before, more tests, and all of the side effects became the daily focus of virtually all of our activities. For thirteen months.

Every small improvement we saw as a sign of better things to come. At the same time we tried to absorb and handle every setback that came our way. There were plenty of both! But recovery was the goal, regardless of how rough or long the road might be. We were on an emotional roller coaster that seemed never ending.

For me, a profound sense of helplessness led to a heightened awareness of spiritual dependence. If I couldn't fix this, God could and would. I was sure of that. The Bible said so, right? Doesn't James 5:15,16 promise physical healing? I had internet friends all over the world praying for her! That had to count for something!

But my desperation was clouding my judgment and understanding. I was in a state of denial while Carol was still alive. She was not going to die. God would save her life. He promised.

When Carol finally did pass away, in my arms at the age of only fifty-four, I soon found myself angry with God. I never questioned His existence, only His goodness. He had lied to me, hadn't He? He misled me, gave me false hope when He had no intention of saving her life. I quickly fell headlong into the throes of a real crisis of faith.

I could argue with and accuse God with the best of them. Job had nothing on me! The Creator of the universe had offended my sense of right and wrong! I had been a faithful servant for many years. How could He just ignore my simple request? What cosmic balance required that Carol die, anyway?

Or was I really just viewing God as my own personal puppet/servant?

Anger, like all other phases of grief, has its place as long as one doesn't get stuck there. Eventually, I began to see the bigger picture more clearly. Some truths I had always known now had a more personal, less academic feel. My heart began to accept what my head had always known. And I also saw that as a child of God I had been throwing a temper tantrum, and was glad God was as patient a parent as he is.

Among other things, I realized that God will not answer yes to a prayer that would negate a prior truth or promise. Hebrews 9:27 says we will all die. But Philippians 3:20 says our citizenship is in heaven, where there will be no more tears, or death, Revelation 21:4. The conquering of death is in the next life, not this one. And these promises are bigger than my prayers.

I, too, one day, will die. We all will. Our focus shouldn't be on life everlasting here on earth, but on eternal life in heaven. Perhaps our prayers would be answered more to our liking if they, and we, were more heavenly-minded.

VERSE: Psalm 136:26 Give thanks to the God of Heaven. His love endures forever.

PRAYER: Our father in heaven, thank you for being in charge and in control, and for remaining faithful to us even when our faith wavers. We eagerly await not only that grand reunion with our loved ones in heaven but also with you, our God and our Redeemer.