Feeling Forsaken

I admit it.  Not infrequently these days I feel as if our Father has forsaken me.  I believe in my head, “I will never leave you or forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5).  But that’s not what I feel.

No need to detail the symptoms of my Primary Lateral Sclerosis.  Suffice to say it’s a progressive, incurable neurological disease.  Symptoms are inability to walk, swollen and aching feet, terrible body weakness, and a foggy headache that makes clear thinking nearly impossible.  There are more, but that’s enough.  I’m mostly confined to a wheelchair and can’t do virtually anything physical.  Prayers have been answered, “No” or, at least, “Not yet until the resurrection.”

Writing my blog has become a battle, every sentence, it seems, squeezed out of a groggy, hurting head.  And this my only ministry since PLS forced me to retire from pastoring after 44 years.

I’m dragging my way through Timothy Keller’s excellent book, Walking with God through Pain and Suffering.  I hope to eventually write a blog series about it.  But I came upon a valuable insight he noted as I thought about the now-limited effect of my life for the Lord.

Keller refers to Joni Ereckson Tada, who became a quadriplegic as a result of a diving accident at 17 years of age.  She was later devastated when a friend died after a bout with multiple sclerosis which had left her paralyzed from the neck down.  How, Joni, wondered, could such a life meaningfully glorify God?

Another friend pointed her to Luke 15:10 where Jesus tells of angels in heaven rejoicing over a repentant sinner.  Then to Ephesians 3:10—“His intent was that now, through the church, the manifold wisdom of God should be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly realms.” 

Joni realized her friend’s life wasn’t a waste:  someone—a great many someones—was watching.  Keller concludes:  “There is an unimaginable but real spiritual world out there.  Everything you do is done in front of billions of beings.”

I can’t pastor any longer.  Some days I can’t write my blog.  But what I do and what I say is being seen and heard.  Within my limitations, I can bring glory to God in the heavenly realms.

Still there are people who see and hear me:  my wife, my children and my grandchildren.  Do I glorify God in my suffering before them?  To be honest, I’m aware of what I do and say before my children and grandchildren.  I don’t want to wound their faith by my unfaithfulness.  So I’m “up” for them.  It’s not hypocrisy; it’s a genuine attempt to glorify God before them.  I want to fortify their faith for their suffering.  I want to be an example the Holy Spirit can use and they can emulate.  For good or ill, my life still influences my most-loved family.

I must remember that when it comes to Lois.  She gets me unvarnished.  Have I wounded her faith with my complaints?  I pray not.  She encourages me, prays for me, waits on me, loves me unconditionally.  But I want to glorify God before her.  I pray he will strengthen me to strengthen her.

 I don’t want to end this implying I’m doing fine.  Often I’m not.  Often I’m feeling forsaken.  I ask “why, God?” knowing he’s already answered in Scripture.  I just don’t like his chosen path for me.  And some days I do feel forgotten by him (though I know that’s not true).

So my “revelations” written here (that I can glorify God before billions of beings in the heavenly realms and I can glorify God before my family and for their highest good) are weapons for my fight of faith.  Not two pills that relieve my emotional pain.  Weapons to fight against the lies of the evil one and of my sinful nature and its corrupted feelings.

I share this with you because you suffer too, or will.  Maybe you’ve already learned what I’ve written here.  But if not, I want to be honest about my struggles, so that you know Christians have them too.  (No “triumphalism” here!)  But also that you might learn from them and be equipped to fight the fight of faith when you feel forsaken, when you feel that your life has little significance for God’s glory.  So, there’s my heart.

I finish with a promise to which my sometimes-feeling-forsaken soul clings . . .

So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
(Isaiah 41:10).