Pitter Patter: April 2007

The Thorn

I stood a mendicant of God before his royal throne

And begged Him for one priceless gift that I could call my own.

He placed it in my outstretched hand, but as I would depart I cried, "But, Lord, it is a thorn! And it has pierced my heart!

"This is a strange, a hurtful gift, that Thou hast given me."

He said, "My child, I give good gifts and gave my best to thee."

I took it home, and though at first the cruel thorn hurt sore

As long years passed, I learned at last To love it more and more.

I learned He never gives a thorn without this added grace.

He takes the thorn to lay aside the veil that hides his face.

-Martha Snell Nicholson

I just listened to a sermon by John Piper entitled, "To Be a Mother is a Call to Suffer," which my dear friend gave to me yesterday. Now don't assume, like I did, that this sermon is directed only to mothers, or that it addresses all the areas in their lives that they worry and fret over - it doesn't. It actually focuses on the "great reality of God's sovereign goodness in the bitter providences of our lives." The poem above sums up the sermon pretty well.

He begins with talking about a recent approach to teaching theology, which claims that "God doesn't know the future precisely because the future does not yet exist. Thus, while God is very good at calculating the odds, he still takes risks – especially in dealing with his free creatures."

As he continues through his sermon, he expresses his sadness that this approach is being taken and is being taught in seminary. He goes on to say, "And what makes the matter relevant this morning is that Christianity Today is exactly right to say, 'These theological debates have enormous implications for piety and pastoral care – especially for how we respond to the tragedies that invade our lives' (Christianity Today, vol. 45, no. 7, May 21, 2001, pp. 39-40)."

Throughout the rest of his sermon he refers to various stories of "tragedies," one in particular about a mother who was killed, with her baby, while sitting with her husband in a single-engine Cessna 185 floatplane over the jungles of Peru. The Peruvian Air Force mistook the missionary plane for a drug plane and opened fire. Missionary Veronica Bowers, age 35, was holding her seven-month-old daughter Charity in her lap behind MAF pilot Kevin Donaldson. With them were Veronica's husband Jim and six-year-old son Cory. The pilot's legs were shot and he put the plane into an emergency dive and amazingly landed it on a river where it sank just after they all got out. One bullet had passed by Jim's head and made a hole in the windshield. Another bullet passed through Veronica's back and stopped inside her baby, killing them both. At Veronica and Charity's memorial service, Jim was quoted as saying that the bullet that hit his wife and little girl was a "sovereign bullet." He was criticised for this comment in the media, but his grace and forgiveness are incomparable to anything I've ever heard. His entire testimony was filled with understanding, forgiveness....joy. He noted that the bullet stayed in Charity and didn't reach the pilot, who was seated directly in front of her. "A sovereign bullet..." A bullet that took the lives of his wife and child...yet he calls it sovereign, not stray.

John Piper continues to point out truths of why God does know the future precisely. Really I cannot summarize his entire sermon here. But, what got to me most were a couple of things: The poem quoted above and something Steve Saint said in his testimony at the Bower's memorial service: that to the unbelieving world PAIN is FUNDAMENTAL and JOY is SUPERFICIAL. But to followers of Jesus, JOY is FUNDAMENTAL and PAIN is SUPERFICIAL. It's just so comforting to hear that - so reassuring.

The period of time that we went through with Cooper recently, when we felt like "our world was crashing down on us," seemed so hopeless to begin with. But I just thank the Lord that He didn't let us stay there...in that state of mind. The doctors were trying to tell us that Cooper was going to have a pretty big thorn to deal with his entire, and potentially shorten, life. Thank God that he is okay. Thank God that he will walk and talk and play. But I really feel like the Lord prepared us to be able to say "Thank God!" if things would have turned out the way the doctors said they would.

I was in a state of struggle for a while - I felt like I was running from the Lord, trying to avoid Him for fear of what he may tell me - for fear of the "not necessarily good truths" about myself I was afraid He would reveal. I didn't want to give up control - control only I thought I had. I had a vision of how I thought our lives would be, and I lived like I could make them be that way. I desired control over every situation in my life. I believe now that that is where my struggle with fear and worry comes from. It's all intertwined - insecurity, worry, fear, control. I didn't want to let it all go. I thought that if I let the Lord take control, that I would be opened up to tragedy. A very confused way of thinking I know, but not knowing was and still is terrifying to me. Not being in control - it's so hard. But the ironic thing is that I never was and never will be in control of what I may think I'm in control of. The Lord was just waiting on me to fall on my knees and let him take the weight.

When we got the prognosis for Cooper, I knew for sure that there was nothing I could do to protect him or make him better. There was a huge potential for my child to have a thorn - a thorn I would not be able to remove. It was an initial feeling of helplessness. This child, that the Lord has so graciously blessed us with, might have something "wrong" - he may never walk, talk, and may have a shortened life expectancy. My worst fear was forming before my eyes and my "tragedy" was taking shape. I just PRAISE THE LORD for his sovereignty, for his grace, his goodness, and his enormous healing and comforting hands. We asked the Lord to heal our son, and that's what we believe He did. And every time I see Cooper smile, I know that he will be okay - that everything will be okay. His smiles are confirmation that the Lord is good and sweet and in control. It is in all of this that I understand what Steve Saint meant when he said that "Pain is superficial and Joy is fundamental." The Lord used the potential of this thorn to "pin back the veil" so I, so we, could see His sweet, beautiful face.

*If you want to listen to John Piper's sermon, here's the link.