It is such a blessing to be back in the office again and back doing what I love doing. One day, as I was pondering the past few months, I felt the need to jot down what had happened and how I felt at the time. I wanted to extract any lessons I could from this unexpected detour in my journey. Here is what I wrote:
It was around 3 or 4 AM on Thanksgiving morning, November 27, 2008, that I was admitted to a hospital in Indio, California.
I was having a difficult time breathing and felt a lot of pain in my chest. While sitting in the ER, I overheard the physician tell my wife Beverley that I was in distress and suffering from heart failure. That diagnosis was soon to be proven inaccurate, and the new diagnosis was a severe case of pneumonia in my left lung.
I was admitted to the hospital that morning. I remember very little about the next several days, with the exception of being moved around a lot from one examination room to another. A CAT scan revealed that I had complications related to the pneumonia. Namely, the lung was so infected that antibiotics could not penetrate the infected areas ... this news coming after they had drained my lung of as much fluid as they could.
On Wednesday, after my initial admittance into the hospital that past Thursday, I was informed that, if the infection was to be treated effectively, I would need surgery. The name of the procedure was a thoracotomy or de-cortication. They would go in from my back, under the shoulder bone, into the lung area and, by hand, scoop out the infection that was causing the problems. This would allow the medication to treat the infection. This they did. The surgeon would tell me later that it was like scraping Jell-O off of my lungs. Ugh!
I spent 13 days in the Intensive Care Unit before my discharge from the hospital, and the road back to health and wholeness has been slow but progressive. Weakness has been my greatest challenge, with insomnia and a persistent cough. But now, some two months later, I am feeling stronger and healthier than I have in a long time. I'm not all the way back to normal, but each day sees some more progress. In fact, this week, February 6, I will embark on my first speaking trip. I am a little anxious about my maiden voyage back on the circuit, but I am happy that I feel healthy enough to give it a try.
I had great doctors. The nurses could not have been nicer, and I am sure my survival is in a large measure due to the excellent care I received. But the thing that stands out above all else is the great numbers of people who joined their hearts and voices in prayer for my recovery. There must have been thousands of people praying for me — you may have been one of them. All over Focus on the Family, my colleagues were praying. In churches large and small, when pastors learned of my distress, they called their people to prayer. My name was on other ministries' prayer lists. People I have never met — and probably never will — prayed for me. It was amazing, and am I ever thankful and indebted to all who did pray.
I'm sure many of you have been in life or death struggles as I was, but did you notice how difficult it was to pray for yourself? You're just too sick. I do remember times of surrender, when I said to the Lord, "There is no way I can do this on my own. I'm in Your hands. I do not want to die ... I want to live, but I can't dictate my future." I also remember reminding the Lord of how many people were praying for me. The Great Physician was merciful.
When you are faced with a traumatic moment, be it a "close call" or near-death experience, there is a change that takes place. I can't explain it completely, but there is a profound sense that what you have been through cannot just be treated casually. There is a renewed commitment to your work, a deeper love for your family and a realization that each day is a gift — that we live and die at the mercy of a loving God, the one who is truly the author and finisher of life. I pray I never lose the feeling of gratitude I have right now for life, my family and the ministry He has called me to.
I heard someone say one time that "to live your life to the full, you really need a reason to get up in the morning." I believe I have found that reason in a renewed passion.
I want to see ministerial couples and families thrive. I want pastors to know how blessed they are to be chosen by the same God who called the disciples over 2,000 years ago. I pray that I can assist the clergy couples I meet to find balance in their lives and come to the realization that the most important people in their congregation are their spouse and their children.
Further, I want to become a part of a movement to awaken a slumbering church. The church is in chaos right now. We need a new vision for every congregation, be they large or small. We need to learn again that God's truth is the greatest message we can teach a person. If we are simply attempting to entertain our flocks, the world can do that much better than we can. As long as I am allowed to serve at Focus on the Family, I want to increase the reach of our efforts throughout the world — to impact pastors in third-world countries, stagnant nations and disillusioned Christian leaders, wherever they may be found.
I turned 72 this past December. Because of my illness, I basically missed Thanksgiving, my birthday and Christmas. These events will have a special meaning in the life of my family in 2009. I'm not sure why, at my age, when most guys are enjoying retirement, I am praying for increased opportunities, but I am. God has allowed me the privilege of "rechargement" rather than retirement. There is a distinct difference.
It's a beautiful winter day in Colorado Springs as I write these thoughts to you, but our weather can change dramatically from one day to the next. We, in our city, are blessed by a sight we sometimes take for granted — Pikes Peak. It stands majestically along the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains. When you look to the west, it is nearly always visible. But there are days when the clouds hang low and visibility is reduced to the point where the 14,000-foot peak is hidden. It seems strange when you can't see "The Peak," but I am reminded by a word I heard from an old pastor years ago. He said, "Remember, son, even when the clouds hide the beauty of the mountains ... the mountains are still there, and that is what makes the difference."
What a comforting thought for folks like you and me. When trouble, distress, setbacks or sickness overwhelm us almost to the point where we feel separated from God, behind those clouds of despair, beyond that fog of doubt, you know God's there, and that is what makes the difference. That is what we call faith: "being ... certain of what we do not see" (Heb. 11:1).
One important note to you pastors who might have patiently read to this point is regarding hospital visitation. I know the new trend is for others on your team to do the hospital and nursing home visits, and I also realize that your schedule is crowded, and perhaps your gifting does not include many moments of compassionate care for the lonely and infirmed, but hear me ... some of your most meaningful ministry can be in a hospital or care facility with those who need to be loved and noticed by their pastor, who need tender mercies that only you can provide.
There were several times while I was in ICU, perhaps sedated by medication, that I would come out of my slumber to find a pastor standing at the foot of my bed. They would not stay long, but they would encourage me, pray for me and take time for me. Some of them I didn't even know, but I will be eternally grateful for their moment of sacrifice on my behalf. I sincerely believe that every pastor should give part of one day each week to compassionate visitation.
There is a value in family that cannot be overstated. I love and appreciate Beverley and our boys more than ever before. My boys had never seen me in such a weakened condition and it was difficult for them. It is the caregivers, in times when one is unable to care for oneself, that so often are overlooked.
As a pastor for more than three decades, I would observe the sacrifice that one would make out of love for a spouse or child, but it really never completely registers until you find yourself on the receiving end of that sacrifice. To be honest with you, I don't know how Beverley did it. I have never been a great patient and, when the situation is complicated like ours was, it was even worse. But she hung in there with me. I know we are closer than we have ever been because, together, we have in our own unique ways survived a very taxing time, and for that we give God thanks.
The outpouring of love from folks like you was overwhelming. The telephone calls, cards and letters literally lifted me when it was obvious that our family was not facing the challenge alone. I thank you for that. My staff at Focus on the Family picked up the ball and ran with it, and prayed for me every day. The leadership of our ministry has been patient and supportive through these weeks of recovery. And now, it's back to work. We will see how it goes. When you think of it, please ask God to give me strength for the new journey ahead.
Each day is a gift, my friend. Please do not mistreat it, deny it or waste it. To think our God has invited each of us to share in His daily creation — and, in so doing, find fulfillment and great joy as we seek to please Him and live in obedience — is amazing. "Because we obey His commandments and do what pleases Him" (1 John 3:22).
I'm delighted to be alive, and I'm energized by the unknown. Thank you for your friendship, and especially for your prayers.
