Nearer, My God, to Thee: A Titanic Stairway

The state-of-the-art ship was massive and was supposed to be unsinkable. It was one of the greatest achievements of the age, but an iceberg on a calm moonless night contributed to one of the greatest maritime disasters in recent history, and many souls found themselves literally nearer to God than they would have dreamed when setting out from England, France and Ireland just a few days previous.

But our story begins several millennia earlier.

c. 2000 BC, around 4000 years previous

The night was dark, and Jacob was exhausted from his trek across the land that would one day bear his future name of Israel. He found a stone and placed it on the ground to use as a pillow. As he slept, he dreamed about a stairway stretching into the sky with angels walking up and down it. God stood at the top and gave Jacob the following promise:

“I am the Lord, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac. I will give you and your descendants the land on which you are lying. Your descendants will be like the dust of the earth, and you will spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. All peoples on earth will be blessed through you and your offspring. I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”

Genesis 28:13-15

Upon waking, Jacob was awe-struck, and he named the place Bethel, or "House of God." He took the rock he had used as a pillow, and set it up as a pillar.

El sueño de Jacob/Jacob's Dream
Bartholomé Esteban Murillo
Oil on canvas
1665

1841

British actress Sarah Flower Adams had been obliged to leave the stage due to health troubles, and in 1841, her pastor was working on a sermon about Jacob's dream. He needed a song to go with it in the service, and Adams volunteered to write it. Her sister Eliza Flower set it to music, though a different tune by Lowell Mason would eventually become the one commonly used. (Incidentally, Mason also set the poem "Mary Had a Little Lamb" to music.) Summarizing Jacob's dream, Sarah wrote: 

Nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!
E'en though it be a cross that raiseth me,
still all my song shall be,
nearer, my God, to thee;
nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!

Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down,
darkness be over me, my rest a stone;
yet in my dreams I'd be
nearer, my God, to thee;
nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!

There let the way appear, steps unto heaven;
all that thou sendest me, in mercy given;
angels to beckon me
nearer, my God, to thee;
nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!

Then, with my waking thoughts bright with thy praise,
out of my stony griefs Bethel I'll raise;
so by my woes to be
nearer, my God, to thee;
nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!

Or if, on joyful wing cleaving the sky,
sun, moon, and stars forgot, upward I fly,
still all my song shall be,
nearer, my God, to thee;
nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!

Adams would write multiple poems and hymns, but this was her most well known. They couldn't know how poignant these words would be about 72 years later.

Sarah Flower Adams
Margaret Gillies
Sketch, touched with chalk
artwork c. 1850-1875

April 14-15, 1912

It was a dark but calm night. The appropriately-named ship was titanic (that is, massively huge), and it was on its maiden voyage. Just 39 years after the SS Ville du Havre had collided with another ship and sunk (inspiring another hymn), a much greater disaster was about to go down, literally. RMS Titanic also collided, but this time with an iceberg around 800 miles southwest of the other collision (if my calculations are accurate). 

Around 11:40 PM, lookout Frederick Fleet sounded the alarm: "Iceberg! Right ahead!" First Officer William Murdoch immediately ordered the ship "hard-a-starboard" to turn around posthaste! (Starboard is the ship's right side.) They did their best, but were too close to the iceberg, which scraped the starboard side, rupturing at least five watertight compartments. Captain Edward J. Smith ordered wireless operator Jack Phillips to begin sending distress signals, which he and his fellow operator Harold Bride did. The ship let off flares that lit up the sky. The RMS Carpathia received the signals, but being 58 nautical miles away, it would take them about three hours to reach the Titanic. The massive ship only had 20 lifeboats, not nearly enough for all their passengers.

As the ship broke apart and sank, multiple survivors recalled the ship's band, led by band leader Wallace Hartley, playing a hymn as some of the passengers sang along:

There let the way appear, steps unto heaven;
all that thou sendest me, in mercy given;
angels to beckon me
nearer, my God, to thee;

nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee!

Hartley has said that he wanted that hymn played at his funeral. It would be the last song he would direct as he and the entire band found themselves nearer to God. Over 1500 souls were lost that night.

RMS Titanic departing Southampton
April 10, 1912
Photo by Francis Godolphin Osbourne Stuart

https://www.britannica.com/topic/Titanic

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Titanic

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nearer,_My_God,_to_Thee

https://www.thetabernaclechoir.org/articles/nearer-my-god-to-thee-history-and-lyrics.html

Kyrie Eleison

Kyrie Eleison is Latin for "Lord, have mercy!" It is often used in church liturgy going back centuries, and as I see more and more horrifying events in the news, that's often my prayer for our nation and our world. I made this graphic a few years ago for Good Friday, which is one time it is commonly used.

Kyrie Eleison
Steven Sauke
Illustration

The black across the top represents the dark sky, as it got dark during the day when Christ was crucified. The brown stripe is for the cross. The red is for Christ's blood.

Today is Black Saturday, the day between Jesus' death and resurrection. Growing up in the Philippines, this was one of the saddest days of the year, when many believed Jesus was literally dead every Black Saturday, and many didn't dare do anything or take any risks, should anything happen and Jesus might not be there to help. 

Our church in the Philippines had a retreat one year during Holy Week, and they returned on Black Saturday. A group was traveling in the countryside in the church's Toyota Tamaraw when both tires on one side of the vehicle blew and it rolled. Tamaraws did not have seatbelts at the time (I assume they do now, but don't know that for sure), and it was a very frightening experience. Most people were only scraped and bruised, though there were some broken bones. But Cynthia Mollo (pronounced "mole-yo"), a wonderful woman in our church, who had a massive heart, was injured much more severely. She was pregnant at the time. Everyone was rushed to the hospital. We were not with them, but my parents rushed to that hospital to be with them, and I stayed with friends. (My brother Tim was out of town.) We got regular updates as Cynthia and her unborn baby fought for their lives. I will never forget our friend getting off the phone after one of those updates and saying, "Well, Cynthia is with the Lord." (I'm tearing up thinking about it over 30 years later.) I sobbed.

Cynthia's husband Dindo was in a different car returning from the retreat, and later recalled they were singing as they travelled in their car, not knowing what was happening in the other vehicle: 

"I've got a mansion just over the hilltop
In that bright land where we'll never grow old
And someday yonder we will never more wander
But walk on streets that are purest gold"

They sang that at her funeral as well. It was a major comfort for everyone, knowing where Cynthia and her baby were, completely free from pain. After the service, we attended the burial, and her tombstone said "SEE YOU IN HEAVEN."

Since the accident happened on Black Saturday, Cynthia's mother was upset that they had gone on a trip on that day of all days. How could they do it on the day when Jesus was dead? I'm not sure what caused her to realize Jesus was there and protecting everyone else, but she did eventually come to understand that. It was a miracle that nobody else was hurt worse than they were. But losing Cynthia and her unborn baby was a huge blow to all of us.

King of the Jews

The inscription on Jesus' cross read, "JESUS OF NAZARETH, KING OF THE JEWS" in Greek, Latin and Hebrew. It was one of the darkest days, both literally and figuratively, in history, as Christ gave His life to save us.

King of the Jews
Steven Sauke
Illustration

I made this a few years ago to commemorate Good Friday. I put the text of the inscription in Latin, Greek and English for the purposes of this graphic. Jesus was crucified between two thieves on Golgotha, the Place of the Skull. The sky turned dark in the afternoon.

When we lived in the Philippines, it was normal for people to be crucified on Good Friday every year, through a misunderstanding of the point of Christ's sacrifice. Most of the time, they nailed a sign to the cross that read "INRI" — an acronym for Iesus Nazarenus, Rex Iudaeorum, Latin for "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews."

Thankfully, His death was not the end of the story. I made some adjustments to this illustration for Easter. That version is coming soon!

It was a funeral—or was it?

I wrote this on March 9, 1995 as part of an assignment in high school. It's based on a miracle recorded in 2 Kings 13:20-21:

Elisha died and was buried. 

Now Moabite raiders used to enter the country every spring. Once while some Israelites were burying a man, suddenly they saw a band of raiders; so they threw the man’s body into Elisha’s tomb. When the body touched Elisha’s bones, the man came to life and stood up on his feet.

The dead man, who was thrown in Elisha's tomb,
comes back to life (2 Kings 13:21)
Oil on panel, Jan Nagel, 1596
Frans Hals Museum

It was a funeral
The deceased was lying peacefully
The wails were heard from everywhere
It was a funeral
"My baby, my baby!" cried the mother
The father just wept
It was a funeral
The siblings embraced
The children sobbed
It was a funeral
The tomb was open
The grave prepared
It was a funeral

Then onto the scene came the raiders
The cruel Moabite raiders
Would there be more funerals?
The relatives ran
The body was thrown
Into the tomb of Elisha
Was it a funeral?
The corpse rolled into the bones
The blessed bones of Elisha
The man came to life
He stood on his feet
He jumped for joy
No more a funeral!
He ran out of the tomb
He found his family
Was it a ghost?
No, it was their son!
He was alive!
No need for a funeral!
Praise the Lord!
Elisha's bones had been blessed!
God had brought this young man back to life!
Great was their joy
It was not a funeral
It was a celebration!
It was a feast!
Great is the Lord our God!
Praise His mighty Name!

Your Smile

My college friend Jenny Paulson had the most radiant smile. She brightened everyone around her, and I count it an honor to have known her. She lived life to the fullest. She was a great friend in college when I knew her, and her special needs students at the elementary where she taught loved her.

February 26, 2010, she was arriving at her school when her life was cut short by a murderer with a gun. I wrote this poem March 9 of that year, after attending her memorial. It is based on my memories of her and those of people who shared at the memorial. One thing that stuck with me from her memorial was when someone said that she lived life "on high octane." She touched so many lives. I know she's up in heaven dancing with her Savior, beaming as she always did in life.

Jenny Paulson
June 23, 1979 - February 26, 2010

Your passion for life
Your love of the Lord
Your care for all you met
These are your legacy

But I remember your smile
That smile that brightened my day
That smile that haunts me and inspires me
With one smile, the world could see:
Your passion for life
Your love of the Lord
Your care for all you met

In that smile are hundreds of memories
Different for each person you touched
Flying over the water on jet skis
And running out of gas on the lake
Remembering birthdays
And making sure they were celebrated
Inviting friends to church
Bringing them to Christ
Taking a break from your work
To eat lunch with your friends
Teaching children to read
And listening to their needs
Seeing the best in everyone
And loving without condition

Your smile touched more people than you know
And for that, I thank you
For that, I know that your smile
Is shining for all of heaven to see
As you smile and dance in the loving embrace of our loving Father
Whose smile is even bigger.

Dad

"Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental, seem for you the wrong companions. You were warm and gentle."

I'm "working through the unimaginable," to quote Hamilton.

When I was a kid living in the Philippines, my brother Tim introduced me to Broadway musicals. I particularly remember us listening to The Phantom of the Opera on repeat. Sometimes we had to take the cassettes out of the tape recorder and wind the film back into the cassette because it got tangled in the tape recorder. They played "Good Morning" from Singin' in the Rain every morning on the radio, and we taped it, along with other songs like "Put on a Happy Face" from Bye Bye Birdie. We listened to Broadway and Christian music all the time. (My mom got tired of the screams in Phantom of the Opera.)

Through it all, my dad, an avid sports fan, who once dreamed of raising a softball team, encouraged his two sons in our love of music. Neither of us were particularly into sports as he had hoped, but he didn't press us to do something we wouldn't like. (Though we have enjoyed attending baseball games together, and Tim and I have attended a lot of rugby games since the Seattle Seawolves started a couple years ago.) My dad paid attention to our interests and encouraged them. He enjoyed Phantom and other musicals with us. We watched the classic movie musicals as a family. I lost count of how many times we watched The Sound of Music, Fiddler on the Roof, and others. Someone gave us the animated musical of Gulliver's Travels ("Aaaalll's well! It's a hap-hap-happy day!") and we watched that video many times. So many happy memories. 

Every play, musical and concert in school, my dad was there rooting us on. Tim played Captain Corcoran in HMS Pinafore in high school. I would later be in a Disney revue and Oklahoma! when I was in high school. In college, Tim was in a community theatre production of Carousel, and I would later be in South Pacific in a different community theatre group. We both were in Oliver! Tim was in a lot more community theatre shows than I was. I was also in several plays, such as Arsenic & Old Lace, The Curious Savage, You Can't Take it with You, and others. My dad cheered us on and constantly encouraged us. My parents enthusiastically joined our church choir when my brother joined, and when Tim later started directing it. I also participated.

My dad and I also enjoyed watching adventure movies together, such as Lord of the Rings, Pirates of the Caribbean, Master and Commander, Star Wars, and others. We enjoyed discussing them.

For Tim's 30th birthday, my parents treated us to a nearly-lifelong dream of watching The Phantom of the Opera in its national tour when it came through Seattle. Years later, on my 40th birthday, they told me I could name the musical and we would go. It took nearly a year for the right musical to come through Seattle, but we went to Come from Away as a family. We couldn't know it would be the last show we would see together as a family of four.

Last month, my dad was watching football when he had a stroke. We called 911, and he was rushed to the hospital, then transferred to another one a little further away. A week and a half ago, he was put on comfort care, and we rushed to the hospital, where Tim and I both got to talk to him individually and thank him for being a truly amazing father. The next morning, he was gone. We got the call in the middle of the night and rushed back to the hospital. He had been gone nearly an hour when we arrived.

It seems unreal. Just a month ago, he was relatively healthy. Now, he's gone. It's hard to take in. The past week and a half we have been involved in arrangements and so much other stuff involved in losing him. While I'm currently doing better than I would have expected, the grief has been up and down. I'm sure it will intensify as the burial makes it more real.

My mom commented he will have a better Christmas than we will. I rest in the assurance that he is in a better place, with no more pain, completely healed. That is a big help. But I find myself "wishing [he] were somehow here again." I regularly think of a question to ask him or want to share something with him that he would enjoy, only to realize that can't happen. As of a couple weeks ago, he was the only person I had bought Christmas presents for so far.

I remember the amazing man he was, and I think of how much I took for granted when he was with us. So many times I have heard people who have lost a loved one beg their friends to treasure their loved ones while they are here. That never really sank in for me until the past few weeks. I've always appreciated him, but I do now more than ever, and I wish I could tell him.

Several songs have resonated with me in ways they haven't in the past. Josh Groban's rendition of "To Where You Are" has helped. "Here Comes the Sun" by the Beatles. Several hymns, such as "It Is Well" (which was written by a father who had just lost his daughters in a shipwreck). The worship song "We Will Dance". My friend Clay Crosse's rendition of "Time to Believe". "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" from The Phantom of the Opera. "Bring Him Home" and "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" from Les Mis (another cast recording my brother and I played over and over in the 80s and 90s). Multiple songs from Come from Away. "Proud of Your Boy" from Aladdin. "Endless Night" and "He Lives in You" from The Lion King. "All the Wasted Time" from Parade. "It's Quiet Uptown" from Hamilton. "The Honor of Your Name" from The Civil War. Multiple others.

Thank you to everyone who has been so supportive, even not knowing what was going on. You have been a major encouragement to us.

Tom Jamieson

Following is the eulogy I wrote for my uncle Tom, who passed away of a heart attack last month. His sisters and my aunt helped me with some of the details. A shorter version was printed in the program, but this is the full eulogy. 

Tom Jamieson was born to John and Helen Irene Jamieson on June 24, 1955 in Omaha, Nebraska. He attended grade school at St. Cecilia's, followed by high school at Creighton Prep. His dad died when he was 12. Tom got a scholarship when he started high school, and he worked his way through to pay tuition. After graduating high school in 1973, he attended the University of Nebraska Omaha for about a year and got a job at the Nebraska Psychiatric Institute. He got married and moved to Seattle in 1977. That marriage only lasted about three years, but his move would start a new chapter in his life.

He worked at Doctor's Hospital in Seattle, which would merge with Swedish. It was there that he met a beautiful young woman. The third time they randomly ran into each other, he joked, "If we don't stop meeting like this, we're going to have to get married." They must have kept meeting like that, because Tom started dating Lois in 1981. They were married in 1984, and their daughter Darcy came along five years later.

After working at Swedish, Tom worked 11 years at Washington Natural Gas, followed by 14 years at Microsoft.

In recent years, he has been active in politics, and he has visited the City Council regularly (much to the chagrin of some of his political opponents). He was the Republican Chair of Washington State's 32nd District, and a Precinct Committee Officer.

Tom and Lois cared for Lois' father Ken Loge until his death in May 2015. Inspired by his father-in-law, Tom started walking regularly, up to six miles a day. Tom and Lois spent what they could not know would be their last summer together walking, going on bike rides, and even sailing on the whale boat where Darcy works.

Tom loved chess, and he won a championship at the age of 16. He was talented in several areas of art. He loved to draw, and he taught himself to play the piano. As a political activist, he made several cartoon videos to illustrate his points.

He was a deep thinker, and was proud of his membership in Mensa, for people with high IQs. He was an excellent writer and researcher, and was always eager to learn more. He had a quick wit and a caring heart.

Following a massive heart attack and a week in the hospital, Tom passed away peacefully. He is survived by his wife Lois and daughter Darcy, his siblings Holly, John, Mary and Kate, and 40 nieces, nephews, great nieces and great nephews. He is preceded in death by his parents and his brother Bill.

Kenneth L. Loge

Following is the eulogy I read at my grandpa's memorial service on Saturday, May 23, 2015 at United Evangelical Free Church in Seattle. It was broken into three segments with other speakers [indicated in square brackets] in between each segment.

***

Ken Loge was born in 1915 and raised on a farm in Cooperstown, North Dakota, the oldest of five boys. He gave his life to Christ at the age of 10 at a summer camp, and as he liked to put it, God gave him a very long and interesting life. After graduating from high school, he became a teacher in a one-room schoolhouse and fell in love with a beautiful woman named Marian.

Then came the draft. He found himself on the way to bootcamp in Louisiana, and it wasn't until later, when he was stationed in Boise, Idaho, that his bride Marian was able to take a train out and they were married in a small ceremony by a pastor they had only just met, witnessed by the pastor's wife and some new neighbors. It was Valentine’s Day 1942. Marian returned home, while Ken went on to serve in New Caledonia, an island off the Australian coast. Thanks to his clerical skills, he was pulled to office duty while the rest of his platoon was sent to Guadalcanal, where most of them were killed in combat. Between that and the Battle of the Coral Sea keeping the Japanese away from their base in New Caledonia, God clearly protected him for a very long and interesting life. He was later reassigned to France and Germany, and he would ride through Paris on a tank, surrounded by jubilant crowds celebrating the Allied Forces’ victory.

Following the war, he returned to the US, where he got a job in the circulation department of the Fargo Forum in Fargo, North Dakota. After two years there, he accepted an offer for a position as circulation manager at the Watertown Public Opinion in South Dakota. Later he would accept a new position as the pastor at a church in Brooks, Alberta, followed by another church in Wainwright, Alberta. Big Timber, Montana followed, and then Salmon Arm, British Columbia. While pastoring in BC, Ken was on the founding board of a new endeavor that they called Trinity Junior College. It would eventually become known as Trinity Western University.

[Here, Inga Warnock of Trinity Western University spoke on Grandpa's legacy at TWU.]

Throughout Ken’s careers at the newspaper and as pastor, he and Marian had five children: two daughters, a son, and two more daughters.

After their ministry was completed in BC, the family moved to Stevensville, Montana, where Ken became pastor. It was during this time that their daughter Linda got a teaching job in Hamilton, Montana, and a student in her class required the special ed expertise of a certain Mr. Sauke. But that’s another story. It was also while they were there that, a few years later, his son Robert was killed in a traffic accident, leaving two young children, Tracy and Jeff.

After Stevensville, God called Ken into a new ministry, and he became administrator of the brand new nursing home that would become known as Kah Tai Care Center in Port Townsend, Washington. He and Marian ministered there alongside George and Virginia Foutz, whose son currently attends United. It was also during this time that they would visit their daughter and son-in-law in Hong Kong, and later in the Philippines. One of my earliest memories is walking with my grandpa Loge to the school where my dad taught and my big brother Tim attended.

Ken’s upbringing and various ministries gave him a passion for reaching the lost for Christ. After retiring from the nursing home, he moved to Ancora Village in Everett, where the Loges, along with Lyle and Florence Vanderpoel, were among the first tenants. While there, Ken became a missions consultant with the Evangelical Free Church Mission, coordinating missionary visits to the churches in the Pacific Northwest and Northern Mountain Districts, in addition to other responsibilities. He was a vital part of the ministries of missionaries around the world.

[Here, Bob Verme, missionary to Japan, spoke on Grandpa's legacy overseas.]

Ken had a vital part in the founding of the Missionary Construction Teams, which has worked on many projects worldwide. During this time, Marian started declining in health, and she lost her battle to cancer in 1989. He was praying with her, and when it came her time to pray, she didn’t say anything. She was too busy singing with the angels. I remember the next morning, when my parents both came in my room to wake me up, half a world away, to tell me my beloved grandma was gone. They had waited until morning to tell me so that I would be able to sleep. That same year, I lost both grandmas, but God would provide two young cousins for Tim, Tracy, Jeff and me, and new granddaughters for my grandpa. Annika and Darcy could not have come at a more perfect time.

Following the loss of Marian, Ken once again visited the Philippines, Hong Kong and Japan. He would come back and report to the churches in the US on the ministries in Asia.

In 1991, we returned to the US, and in 1993, Andrèa joined us to complete the group of grandchildren. Along with my parents and Tim and me, Grandpa went to Hong Kong in the summer of 1994 to teach English, and he would continue to go back for a few summers after that. I was particularly amused that, as he made a practice of walking regularly, those of us who were younger had trouble keeping up with Grandpa as he speed walked down the streets of Hong Kong. While there, he impacted many youth for Christ, and his legacy lives on around the world.

In the following years, he would revisit Europe, where he saw it completely rebuilt from the rubble he had previously seen at the end of the War. He also visited Turkey, Thailand and China, in addition to traveling to Norway to meet relatives in his mother country.

In 2012, his son-in-law Tom accompanied him to Washington, DC, where Ken was honored in the Lone Eagle Honor Flight for his service in the War. This organization brings veterans to see the memorial there in memory of their service around the world. The Mariners would later honor the veterans from the Honor Flight at Safeco Field.

In 2013, he was honored at Trinity Western University for his role in its founding by having a dormitory named after him.

By this time, he was slowing down, but his passion for reaching people for Christ continued unabated. Last May he came to Activate, United’s youth group, and shared about how at the age of 10, he went forward at a summer camp and gave his life to Christ. Just last month, he wrote a letter to each member of Activate urging them to come to Christ if they haven’t already. A week before his death, he prayed passionately for anyone who does not have Christ.

May 9, our family sat vigil in his room. His pain was evident, and he was ready to go. He could hardly talk. We said our good byes, and I asked him to give Grandma a big hug from me. When Annika told him she loved him, he said, “I love you.” Those were the last words I understood from him. In the afternoon his niece Nola arrived. He opened his eyes and acknowledged her. Then he was gone. He was four months short of his 100th birthday.

In previous years, we cousins knew that if Grandpa was leaving the family get-together, we had to hurry to say our good byes. Someone would yell, “Grandpa’s leaving!” and his grandchildren came running. This time, nobody needed to yell. But Grandpa left. I can’t wait to see him again.

In addition to his wife Marian and his son Robert, he is also preceded in death by his parents Swen and Lisa, and four younger brothers, Maynard, Melvin, Truman and Spencer. Ken Loge is survived by four daughters, Linda, Bonnie, Lois and Dori, as well as seven grandchildren – Tim, Tracy, Jeff, Steven, Annika, Darcy and Andrèa – and five great-grandchildren: Austin, Taylor, Autumn, Ava and Katlyn.

Grief

My grandpa passed away on Saturday, May 9. I wrote the following a week later on May 16.

Grief is a funny thing. I sat with my family at my grandpa's bedside last Saturday and watched him struggle to breathe, struggle to talk. All I could understand was when he told my cousin Annika, "I love you." We all said good bye, and I had trouble getting out my request that he give my grandma a big hug. My mom's cousin arrived, and he acknowledged her presence, and then was gone. I knew it was coming, and I hoped it was a false alarm. But no pulse. I was OK for a few minutes, but then the tears came back. We made calls to family and to church.

Tuesday, I returned to work. One of my coworkers is Colombian, and I like practicing my Spanish with her. I thought maybe I wouldn't have too much trouble if I told her in Spanish. I was wrong. Tears.

I expected to be emotional at the viewing and graveside service yesterday (Friday). It was deeply moving. I stood in front of my hero's casket and looked at him. I liked how he had a bit of a smirk (which he did not have when he died... I'm not sure if that happened naturally when they closed his mouth, or what), and I rejoiced that he was finally free of his pain. He's in glory with my grandma in the presence of Jesus. Our family friend Mark Halstrom spoke eloquently at the grave site next to the flag-draped coffin. A soldier played Taps on the bugle, and then the soldiers folded the flag and presented it to my mom. It was an amazing, moving ceremony. But I was not expecting the lack of tears at the graveside. I've felt a mixture of pain, relief and joy that he is no longer suffering.

Then this morning, as I was pulling out of the driveway, I drove over a snail. I had tried to save its life by kicking it out of the way before leaving, but it wouldn't budge. I tried to avoid it, but the tire rolled over it and smushed it. That was more traumatic than it would have otherwise been.

Then, this evening, after not crying (much) for a few days, I noticed my grandpa's World War II Veteran hat sitting on the couch. And lost it. The flag pin on it is askew. I was always fixing that when he wore it. I was slightly baffled how I could stand in front of his body and not cry, but then lose it when I noticed his hat.

Grandpa, I miss you! See you soon!

Paul Heaven

It was 1991. We had just gotten back to the US from the Philippines, with plans to return in a year. In previous furloughs, we had lived on Washington State's Olympic Peninsula, but this time we would be east of the Puget Sound, attending United Evangelical Free Church in Seattle.

I remember the first social gathering we attended. I met the Heavens and the Beckmans, two couples who would grow to be great friends, and both couples would become important in my life. Along with several other youth, we walked from church to the nearby Westernco Donuts (they have amazing apple fritters). Having just returned from the tropical Philippines, I was freezing. It was July. My 13-year-old mind was wondering how many degrees below 0 it was, while everyone else was wearing t-shirts and shorts.

At that time, we had weekly potlucks at church. Paul and Cathy Heaven had a great sense of humor, and they would bring angeled eggs to the potlucks on occasion. After all, if your name is Heaven, why would you think of bringing deviled eggs?

That summer, we had a church campout north of Seattle, and one day we went for a hike up Sauk Mountain. As we approached the trailhead from the parking lot, we encountered a sign-in sheet, and we signed in. We had a good laugh as the previous group had signed "The Heavenly Host"...and here we were with the Heavens! (When we got to the top, we got to introduce the Heavens to the Heavenly Host.) Sometime earlier, a minor landslide had taken out parts of the path up the hill, and consequently, parts of the switch-back path were narrower than the rest. With my fear of heights, I was terrified as we went over those parts. It was Paul who took my hand each time we reached a narrow part and got me across. I don't know how I would have made it up the hill without him there to help. That increased my respect for him, and when we got back home, I made some blackberry jam to thank him. (It was blackberry season, and as we didn't have blackberries in the Philippines, I made the most of it.)

Paul went out of his way to spend time with me, and he had a great ministry. At a time when I was known by my peers at school for not going to the cinema, he took me to my first cinematic movie. 101 Dalmatians was being re-released, and it was the first movie I ever saw in a regular theater.

As 1992 came along, they started expecting their first child. It was an exciting time, and near the end of the year, little Ethan was born. Cathy taught me how to hold him, and Ethan was the first baby I held properly. It was a very memorable day.

Though we ended up not returning to the Philippines as we were planning, Paul and Cathy and Ethan had to move on. We kept in touch off and on, and we heard about more kids joining their "Heavenly host." I have yet to meet their other kids (who are mostly grown by now), but maybe I will someday.

Years later, we got word that Paul had come down with cancer. They caught it, but it came back. After months of struggles, I got word this morning that my dear friend slipped into the presence of his Savior.

I am so grateful to Paul and Cathy for reaching out to me (literally at times) and loving a missionary kid who felt more at home in the Philippines. That they would take time to get to know me, just to hang out at times, and to help in other ways as well, spoke volumes. They were instrumental in my transition to 8th grade and high school in the US, and if not for them, I would not be who I am today. I only hope I can be as caring and helpful to others as they were to me.

Thank you, Paul. I look forward to seeing you in Heaven.

Now please excuse me while I go cry...

Cathy has done a great job of keeping people updated here. Check it out for more on these amazing people.

Joshua

Yesterday I participated in the Puget Sound Heart Walk. It is an annual event to raise money for research on heart disease and stroke. I walked in honor of three amazing people, and I thought it might be cool to share their stories. You can donate here.

Jill and Shane are amazing parents. They had two children already, and were now expecting their third. But when Joshua arrived, he only had half a heart. I have Jill's permission to share his story from her blog.

---

I am a mother. I'll admit though, sometimes not a very good one. 

I get lazy (can we just say- one time I used a dryer sheet on my kids head rather than give him a bath?!), I raise my voice, and my house is hardly ever clean. But one thing is for sure: I love my children. 

Joshua is the 2nd youngest of my 4 children. He was born August 16, 2010. He has been the child, who in his short life, has stretched me in ways I never could imagine. (read through my blog from April 20, 2010 for more on this) We have spent his entire life, from pregnancy to birth and beyond, expecting the worst, but hoping for the best.

At 11 weeks gestation, I was diagnosed with a subchorionic hemorrhage. Basically, I was gushing blood (for almost 21 days straight), and doctors found out that there was a hemorrhage between the sac and uterus. It started off small, but within days grew and grew and grew. We were told that it was just a matter of time before Joshua would pass and I would miscarry. I was told that it would be miracle if he made it to 18 weeks.

Well, 18 weeks came and went, the bleeding continued, and I was sent to a specialist. The specialist noticed that Joshua's heart glowed on one of his ultrasounds, but told us not to worry. I did just as he told me. I was stressed enough with the hemorrhage, and didn't want to even think about a heart issue on top of it all. So we went home and continued to trust that God would take care of Joshua.

At our 18 week gender scan (which we had already found out Joshua was a boy at 14 weeks!), the tech couldn't get a good view of the left side of Joshua's heart. She told us that he was laying in a funny position and that it was nothing to worry about. Once again, I chose not to worry. My OB looked over the ultrasound and decided to send us to a fetal/pediatric cardiologist. 

At 22 weeks we made our way down to Indianapolis for our fetal ECHO. It was then that our lives were turned upside down. Joshua was diagnosed with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. 

Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome or HLHS is a Congenital Heart Defect (CHD). Basically, Joshua only has 1/2 of his heart. The left side is hypoplastic, which means that it has not developed or is underdeveloped. 

The treatment for HLHS is a set of 3 open heart surgeries to "reroute" his heart. The Norwood surgery is the first surgery and took place at 3 days old on August 19, 2010. The Glenn should take place around 6 months old, and the Fontan is typically be performed between 2 and 3 years of age. He also had a shunt revision due to the shunt being too large which resulted in poor oxygen profusion to his body. That took place September 27, 2010.

Joshua was a fighter, and survived all sorts of odds in his short little life. We are amazed at his beauty and how perfectly God has created him- Broken heart and all!

On Oct. 6, 2010, Joshua's purpose here on Earth had been fulfilled and God called him Home. Joshua left this world in my arms and went directly into the arms of Jesus for complete healing. 

Our journey through life without Joshua is now just beginning. Thank you for joining us as we learn to live, love, and laugh again.

----

Posted Thursday, October 10, 2010:

This post is deeply DEEPLY personal. It is raw, and will probably be hard for some to read. 

I want to share with you my memories from the morning that Joshua died. The details from that morning are what haunt me at night. I am seeking counseling for PTSD, but it is good for me to get it out....to talk about it...to share it with others....if it doesn't make sense, I'm sorry. I'm not going to reread it or edit it.

Wed. Oct. 6, 2010

My dad was coming to spend the day with me. I was tired of sitting around the hospital by myself, and had decided that I could really use some company. My dad graciously accepted to come down and spend the day with me.

He called me at around 7:40am to tell me he was on his way. He also woke me up. You see, I had stayed late at the hospital the night before, and I had planned on sleeping in that morning. After my dad woke me up, I decided to quickly get out of bed, shower, and get over to the hospital to spend some quality time with my little man before my dad showed up.

I got to the hospital around 8:15. When I walked past the window to Joshua's room, I saw that he was kicking his feet, most likely crying. I entered his room and sure enough, he was crying. I quickly put my bags down, and went to his crib. I picked him up and said "Good Morning my sweet baby!!! How are you today? I've missed you." I gently kissed his head, and he immediately calmed down. I rocked him in my arms for a few minutes as I continued to snuggle him.

After being there for about 5 mintues or so, his O2 alarms started going off. They were in the low 60's (which for an HLHS baby a O2 sat that low is not completely uncommon.) I watched it and didn't panic, because it usually popped back up to the low 70's fairly quickly. After a few minutes of it being low, i finally started to worry. Joshua was calm, and I didn't want to put him down. After another minute, the nurse came in and decided to turn up his oxygen. He was up at 90%. We watched him for a few minutes, and his sats kept going lower and lower.

He was still calm, and was not blue. We messed with the pulse ox some (it was known to not pick up very well, and it was not correlating very well with the heart rate- so we thought maybe it was a bit of a malfunction). By the time we were done adjusting his pulse ox, his sats were in the 40's. That is when his heart rate started dropping. It quickly went from a healthy 148 bpm to 110, 105, 100, 90......

The nurse saw that and immediately yelled out Joshua's door for help. The doctor was in immediately and I laid him on his bed. By that time, his breathing was labored, and he was extremely dusky in color and he was looking up at me with those beautiful eyes that were screaming at me "Mommy help me...help me!!!" I frantically tried to get the mobile off of his crib to allow the doctor full view of Joshua while she was working on him. She immediately started chest compressions and told me to leave the room.

I stumbled out of the room and made it only about 2 feet out of the door before I fell to my knees and started begging God for mercy. Somehow I knew that this was it. Joshua's sweet life was coming to an end.

The nurses called for the crash cart and a ventilator. People rushed passed me as I kneeled on the floor praying crying out to God. Finally a nurse came and got me and took me to the quiet room. She sat and talked to me for  a minute, quickly explained everything that was going on, and promised that she would come back and keep me updated. She told me that they had already given Joshua 1 shot of epinephrin (totally butchered that spelling.) and that his heart was beating with the help of chest compressions. She told me to call Shane and that she would be right back.

I called Shane and told him what was going on. I called my mom. I texted facebook and blogger to get people praying. I did the only things that I could do- spread the word so that prayers could be going up. As I talked to Shane, I told him that I felt like we were going to have to choose when enough was enough. He told me I was wrong, but I knew. I knew this was the end. (Thankfully, we never had to make that choice, Joshua made it for us.)

The nurse came back in and told me they were still working on him. They were still doing chest compressions, and that things weren't looking good. He was hooked up to the vent. They had given him another 6 shots of epinephrin and they had just a tiny pulse. I will never forget the look on that nurse's face. I will never forget the next words that came out of her mouth. She said "Jill, you need to come in and hold your baby."

She led me out of the room and back to Joshua's room. The room was packed with more people than I could count and it looked like a war zone. There were syringes all over the place, machines, wires, boxes, tubes, wrappers everywhere. They pulled up my recliner next to his bed and gently lifted Joshua's limp blue body into my arms as I sat down. I held him, told him I loved him, and prayed for him. I asked Jesus to heal my sweet baby in His arms. They turned off the machines, the vent, the monitors and Joshua was gone at 8:58am.

My precious baby that I had loved and fought for. He was gone. I sat in stunned silence- knowing that I would never see his beautiful eyes look up at me again. I asked the nurses to take the vent out of his mouth and to disconnect the tubes and wires. I asked for them to take all of the equipment out of his room. It was just me and him for a few brief seconds.

I knew I had to call Shane. By that time, he was already on his way down. I will never forget our brief conversation. I told him that Joshua was gone. Shane cried out, pleading with God. "NO!!! NO!!! NO!!!!" I told him that I was holding him and that I would hold him until he got there. I told him that I loved him and to please drive safely. The pain was unbearable. If I could carry the pain for him, I would have in a second. Seeing him go through it, and dealing with the pain of Joshua's loss was enough to almost kill me.

By the time I hung up with Shane the chaplain had come in. She asked if I wanted to be alone, and I told her I didn't. The nurses asked if they could call anyone for me and I gave them a few people to call. I sat with my baby, lifeless in my arms, and told him how good God is no matter what. I said it over and over and over. "God is still good sweet Joshua, God is still good." I prayed, I cried, I worshipped, I rocked my sweet baby.

I know this is probably hard for you to read. It's something that I relive every night before I fall asleep. I can't get the images of him dying out of my head. The images and thoughts and feelings are enough to make physically sick.

Writing is so deeply personal and therapeutic for me, and the fact that I am able to write about it speaks volumes about my healing. Thank you for sharing this burden with me and for praying us through this.

Picture by Jill Haskins. Used with permission.

Dillon

Tomorrow I plan to participate in the Puget Sound Heart Walk. It is an annual event to raise money for research on heart disease and stroke. I will be walking in honor of three amazing people, and I thought it might be cool to share their stories. You can donate here.

I posted about Ethan. What I didn't mention in the previous post was that since Amy wrote Ethan's story, they lost Amy's husband and Ethan's father Dillon to a sudden heart attack. Here is Amy again on losing her rock and best friend.

---

I will first state the obvious.  I am now the mommy of a FIVE YEAR OLD! Wow!! Ethan turned 5 on Tuesday and he could not be more excited!  Just last night, he had to show me that he didn't need his step stool to wash his hands in the guest bath anymore, "Because I'm 5 now." This morning at school, he said, "Pick me up.  Do I feel heavier? It's because I'm 5!"  I simply cannot believe he is 5.  He's more adorable than ever but I guess I will always mourn the stage of life he's leaving as I look to the one he's currently plowing into.

Where do I start with this other bit of surreal news?  Most of you know by now, but Ethan's dad and my best friend woke up in the arms of Jesus on October 29, 2013.  No, he had not been sick.  No, he hadn't complained of anything (other than some sinus junk).  We were preparing for our surprise trip to Disney World and Give Kids the World in November.  He had started a new job with Daisy Brand (you know, "Do a dollop of Daisy!") in September and was SO excited about us going back to Disney World (evenmoreso because we were keeping it a surprise!).  Sure, he wasn't able to work from home any more but he was getting a good raise and was elated to be able to provide for us to do more things.  He was always wanting more for us.  That's just who he was!

Anyway, the night of the 28th, we ate dinner and he took his usual 2 mile walk.  He went earlier than usual so I decided to put E down early so that Dillon and I could spend some quality time together because I knew that he was trying to get in bed earlier to catch up on some sleep.  I put E to bed while Dillon was in the shower and he came out, said, "Where's the critter?" and was pleasantly surprised he was in bed.  We watched some shows and he tried on some new shirts we'd bought for work and we matched up ties to go with them.  He took all the tags off, asked me if I would please wash them while E was in school the next day and if I could also find out if it was ok to wear brown shoes with navy pants.  Ha! Only Dillon.  He said he had been Googling about it but wasn't coming up with anything but he'd noticed some guys at work wearing brown shoes with their navy pants.  I was cracking up.  So funny!!  We talked about Disney and how Ethan was going to do the Jedi Training Academy (and he WAS going to do it, by golly!  Dillon was determined!) and then he said goodnight and went upstairs.  He had been sleeping up there to be closer to E's room, because he now was getting up so early for work and also because he is an aerobic sleeper- all over the place- bed to floor and back to bed and just...yeah.  Crazy!  I hate to say it, but Ethan is JUST like his Daddy!! Ha!!

In the middle of the night, Ethan came and got into bed with me.  Our bathroom door was still open (Dillon always closes it before he leaves for work).  Strange- strange that E was in bed with me and not Dillon b/c, obviously, it was still too early for him to have left.  My alarm went off at 7:50 (Dillon always left by 6am).  The door was still open but I didn't think too much of it.  I got up to get ready to take E to school and Ethan went to the kitchen to get his milk and juice.  He came back in to say, "Mommy, I think Daddy forgot to go to work today."  Sadly, he didn't forget.  He just never woke up.  :-(

My sweet son has had to endure more in his 5 years of life than most kids.  He is a champion and is so amazing.  He is the reason I am still living and breathing today.  When all I want to do is crawl in a hole, he is there, needing a hug, to go to school, play or whatever a 5 year old needs.  So many have said they are amazed by my strength and grace.  My reply?  I do it for him.  It's so hard.  We thought we had everything figured out.  The only question revolved around kindergarten next year.  We were mulling a couple options over (two have now been nullified due to our circumstances) and then also trying to figure out when I would return to work.  We had concluded that, due to the "school schedule" and Dillon no longer working from home, that I would stay home another year until we figured some more things out.  In 9 hours I went from a stay-at-home-mom to Mom and Dad and not quite sure what in the world to do.  God has a strange way of answering prayers....I didn't want this to be the way.  I still don't know what I'm going to do but I can say that the prayers of many are carrying me.  They are carrying us.

Ethan is amazing- I can't say that enough.  If you were at the visitation or on Facebook afterwards, you saw his handiwork as they allowed him to draw on Dillon's casket.  He asked matter-of-fact questions (Death is such a hard subject!) and I did my best (and I'm still trying) to give matter-of-fact answers.  We went to visit Dillon's grave yesterday at his request.  He doesn't ask when Daddy is coming back.  He asks, "When am I going to die?  When are you going to die?"  He knows his Dad is in Heaven.  God has put that peace into his heart, yet the thought of death just won't get out of his head and I hate it.  Last night, though- listen to the maturity in my sweet son:

"Mommy, are we going to die tonight?"

"Sweetie, if we die, where will we go?"

"Heaven."

"Yes, and who is in Heaven?"

"Daddy."

"Yes.  We will be with Daddy.  We will be happy again."

*he thinks a minute and gets teary again*

"Mommy, when you die, I'm going to call people."

"Um. Ok?"

"No, Mommy.  How do I call the people like you called for Daddy." (911)

"Oh, Ethan.  Let me show you.  What a brave and smart thing to want to know."

We then had a little instruction time on how to use the house phone and when it was appropriate to call for help.  Oh my goodness, y'all.  He is wise beyond his years and I couldn't be more proud of him.  What 5 year old has to spend his birthday at a holiday memorial service?  That kid.  That kid who was all, "Ok. Whatevs. Where are the cookies and how many can I get away with eating?"  Yeah.  He's a rock star.

I just want to thank each and every one of you who have offered prayers, food, money, love, and anything I have needed in this past month.  Yes, we did take our Disney trip, by the way.  It was November 11-19, much like last year. My oldest sister was able to stay and go with us and we wore her out (Dillon was planning on us going full-force and we did our best to honor that crazy man).  Ethan defeated Darth Vader and met all the characters he wanted to meet, he was sprinkled with some sweet Pixie Dust the first night we were there (poor Cast Members were always commenting on the button I was wearing "Celebrating Dillon" or the picture of Dillon we laminated and brought with us).  Ethan was treated to longer meet and greets with a few of his favorites and VIP seating for the Christmas Parade as well as s sweet stuffed Mickey from one of the extremely thoughtful CMs named Mark.  Another named Ben brought us cookies and hot chocolate while we waited for the parade.  For that night, it was nice to have people stop and honor a little boy who had lost so much.  It helped this mama's heart because all I wanted to do was stop and scream, "He lost his father!! Give him the world!" Ethan had a fantastic time.  FANTASTIC! Of course, memories from last year and what should have been flooded my heart a lot of the time but I was able to smile and watch the magic of Disney through my precious boy's eyes again and it was awesome.

The outreach from those around us has been nothing short of wonderful.  This weekend, barring any crazy ice storms that are predicted, Ethan will have his first "big" birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese.  Icing Smiles is providing the cake, another awesome friend is footing the bill for the party and another took the time to put together goody bags for his guests.  I have another friend who has made cookies for me to take to Ethan's class today- not just any cookies, but star shaped ones with LIGHT SABERS on them!

I love each and every one of you.  Please continue to pray for us. Know that your prayers are powerful and are sustaining us.  It's really really hard.  It was always the 3 of us (and Giggs).  We were a team.  I miss him SO much and being in this house without him hurts.  I'd give anything to have him back.  Anything.  One thing that is of comfort is, he didn't suffer. He simply went to sleep and awoke in the arms of Jesus and I have to say, what an amazing way to go.  It could have been while driving to or from work or driving E to soccer or.... God's mercy is good though I don't begin to understand why He had to take Dillon away from us so soon.  He was my rock, my provider, my best friend.  He was the BEST daddy in the world to Ethan.  He loved him SO much.  The awesome thing is, we both know how much he loved us.  I know there are some who aren't as fortunate.

Love fiercely.  Make sure you have a plan for the unthinkable (we didn't).  Keep up with your checkups (Dillon had only just begun in the past few years and having his heart checked was next on his list).  Make your moments count.

We love you,

Amy and Ethan

Picture by Amy Durham. Used with permission.

Saul Meets His Gilboa

We ended the class with a ghost story from the Bible, which was right at the place we were in the story anyway, and so near Halloween. Since ghost stories need to be told around a campfire, and I didn't think it would be a good idea to have a real campfire in church, I found one on YouTube, and we moved to a darker room. To get the full effect, play the video while you're reading the blog post.

Saul Meets His Gilboa

Have you heard people say that someone met their Waterloo? It means that they lost their last battle. Maybe a president was defeated in an election and never ran again. After defeating enemies over and over, French Emperor Napoleon was defeated for the last time in the Battle of Waterloo in 1815. This story is about Saul’s Waterloo.

David was young when God rejected Saul as King, but it was probably somewhere around 15 or 20 years more that Saul reigned after that. God gave him lots of chances to turn his life around, but he just couldn’t get over his pride and jealousy.

Samuel had grown old, and while Saul was busy chasing David, his time came to go. After Samuel’s death, he was buried, and the people of Israel mourned for their last judge and prophet, who had anointed their current king and their next one. Saul and Samuel had had their disagreements, but Saul still respected him.

Sometime after the incident with Saul’s spear and water, Saul and his army prepared to fight the Philistines on Mt. Gilboa, and as he watched the enemy getting closer, he could see the Philistine army was terrifying. What could he do? He tried asking God, but got no answer. He tried asking the prophets who were still alive, but still no answer. That left one option, which should not have been an option. Earlier in his reign, Saul had told all the fortunetellers to leave Israel. Now, he decided he needed one, and he found out that the nearest one was in Endor (which was not a forest moon). Even though the Law of Moses included strict commandments against consulting fortunetellers and using witchcraft, King Saul disguised himself and went to Endor.

The woman was scared. Fortunetelling was illegal in Israel, punishable by death! She was afraid this man she didn’t recognize was setting a trap for her after Saul had deported them, but the mysterious man told her she wouldn’t be punished. He just wanted her to call up a dead spirit. So, he told her to call up Samuel. The woman saw Samuel’s spirit coming up, and suddenly she realized the truth. “You’re Saul!” she said. Now she was really scared.

“Don’t worry,” said Saul. “What do you see?”

“I see an old man in a robe,” she said.

Saul was glad to find out that this had worked. Samuel’s ghost didn’t seem too happy about it, though. He wanted to know why Saul had called him up. So Saul explained his problem. “God has left me. The Philistines are threatening us, and I can’t figure out what God wants me to do, no matter where I turn or how hard I try. I’m getting desperate!”

So Samuel gave his last prophecy. “Why are you asking me? God has left you and become your enemy. You refused to obey His commands to completely destroy the Amalekites, so He has taken the Kingdom of Israel away from you and given it to David. Tomorrow, the Philistines will defeat the Israelite army, and you and your sons will be joining me!”

Saul was so shaken that he didn’t want to eat, but he did after the people who were with him convinced him that he needed food.

Meanwhile, Achish, King of Gath, was still very impressed with David. Unfortunately, the other Gittites (people from Gath) didn’t trust David. So Achish sent David back to Israel. When he and his men arrived in Israel, they discovered that the Amalekites had attacked the region where they were. So David did what Saul had refused to do so many years earlier. He led his band of fugitives against the Amalekites and defeated them. Only 400 Amalekites survived.

On Mount Gilboa, Saul led his army against the Philistines. It was a terrible battle. Three of his sons, Princes Jonathan, Abinadab and Malki-Shua, were killed. The Philistine archers shot Saul, and he was injured. When his armor bearer refused to obey his order to put him out of his misery, he drew his own sword, and King Saul fell. When the Israelite army found out their King and three Princes had died, they turned tail and ran. Saul’s son Ish-Bosheth survived. When the remaining family learned the news, the nurse Jonathan had hired to take care of his 5-year-old son Mephibosheth picked up the young prince and ran. She was so desperate that she dropped the boy, and he broke bones in his feet. They never healed right, and he had trouble walking for the rest of his life. More about him in a couple weeks.

Meanwhile, David was just getting back to Israel after his victory against the Amalekites, when a messenger ran up to him with a very sad story. According to him, Jonathan had been killed in battle on Mt. Gilboa. The messenger knew that Saul was David’s enemy, so he came up with a lie to try to make David feel better. He said that Saul had been mortally wounded, and had asked him to kill him. This man claimed to have obeyed Saul and killed him. Wrong thing to say to David, who was loyal to the King who was not loyal to him. No matter how Saul had treated David, David knew that Saul had been God’s choice of King, and nobody would get away with killing God’s choice. The messenger didn’t live to retell the tale.

David went from best day ever to worst day ever in a few minutes. He wrote a song and lamented the loss of the great King and Prince. “How the mighty have fallen!” he cried. “Don’t mention this in the Philistine strongholds of Gath or Ashkelon, or they might be happy about it! Let the Mountains of Gilboa be cursed, because Israel’s greatest died there! Saul and Jonathan were admired and loved in life, and they fought bravely. Daughters of Israel, weep for Saul, who gave you so much! Jonathan, my brother and best friend, you were very dear to me. How the mighty have fallen!”

So Saul met his Waterloo, and David became King, in extreme grief for his family that he had lost.

Be very careful about your choices. If you make a bad choice, you may not be the only one who suffers for it. Saul’s choices not only cost his own life, but those of his sons, and David lost his dearest friend.

The Finish Line

I wrote this poem back in January of 2005 in memory of our former pastor Brad Smith, who died rather suddenly from a stroke, but I thought in light of the tragedy today at the Boston Marathon, it was appropriate.

This poem makes reference to 2 Timothy 4:7-8, 1 Corinthians 9:24, Philippians 3:14 and John 14.

~~~

With a firm conviction and a strong faith
He ran the race
With all his heart, he encouraged and challenged many
To press on in the race of life
And to follow God earnestly

With a tender and steadfast love,
He was a wonderful husband to his wife,
A superb father to his children,
And a caring shepherd to his flocks.

A godly man,
He challenged us to remain in God's vine
And to pursue Him whole-heartedly
A humble yet goofy man,
He endured pie in the face and the dunking machine
And he made no secret of his disdain for lima beans.

He ran the race so as to gain the prize
And he guided many along the way
He lived his life in service to God
And sooner than anyone expected,
He triumphantly crossed the finish line.

In one stroke in time,
He finished the course
He has gained the prize
For which God called him heavenward
And in white robes and a glittering crown,
He bows before the Master.

He broke the ribbon on the finish line,
A ribbon we all must break some day
May we learn from the way he ran the race
To fix our eyes firmly on our Savior
And in His power, in His time,
We will triumphantly cross the line
And run straight into the loving arms of God.

"Have you considered My servant Jerri?"

“Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil.” - God, Job 1:8

The past year and a half, my friend and "adopted" big sister Jerri has gone through more pain than I can imagine, including the collapse of her marriage and sudden death of her husband, who I considered a big brother, in addition to losing her mother to cancer. I have watched her go through so much, raising their teen and pre-teen children by herself and suffering more grief than anyone should have to bear. I have seen her work through her pain, yet still cling to her faith in our amazing God.

During this time, I have come to understand that the number 11 and strings of 1s have special significance to her, and God has often used this to remind me of her. I often "happen" to look at the time at 11:11, and it always reminds me of her. Sometimes I feel moved to pray for her and her family when that happens. Yesterday, I "happened" to look at my watch at 1:11:11 (that exact second), and today I looked at my phone at 11:11. Today, shortly after that happened, a modified version of Job 1:8 came to mind, which I believe was from God: "Have you considered my servant Jerri? There is no one on earth like her; she is blameless and upright, a woman who fears God and shuns evil."

Job also lost so much when Satan put him to the test, but he came out a stronger man for it, and God blessed him more richly at the end of the ordeal than before it. He even replaced everyone that Job lost. May the same blessings be true for Jerri.

Update: On the way home, I saw this:

I rest my case.

Mixed Feelings

Last night, I checked my e-mail "one last time" before going to bed and found some significant news. President Obama announced that a small group of Americans had found and killed Osama bin Laden, and they had positively identified his body via DNA tests.

It was 1993 the first time I remember hearing about Bin Laden. A bomb went off in the parking garage below the World Trade Center. Bin Laden took credit, and he was attempting to take the building down by destroying its base. Thankfully, that attempt failed, and the damage was repaired.

The next time I remember hearing of him was that fateful day in 2001. I woke up the morning of September 11, and I was headed toward the bathroom to start getting ready for work. My mom stopped me at the door of my room, and she was visibly shaken. She told me that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. Not being fully awake, my first thought was, "Who cares?" As it sank in, I started to realize that I cared. We hurried into the living room and watched in horror as the news reports showed a huge plume of fire and smoke billowing out of the World Trade Center. Further horror ensued as we watched a plane slam into the second building. At that point, I had to start getting ready for work, as I wanted to be sure to arrive on time. I took a small portable radio into the bathroom while I was getting ready, and I prayed desperately. It was then that I heard on the radio that a third plane had slammed into the Pentagon. I prayed even more desperately, and later heard that a fourth plane had crashed in a field in Pennsylvania, thanks to the heroic efforts of some passengers who had tackled the hijackers and prevented them from reaching their target. Walking to work, I glanced at the newsstands and saw a headline about whales...suddenly such a trivial subject. By lunch time, the papers had been replaced with special editions proclaiming, "ATTACKED!"

My job at the time was on the 9th floor of a Seattle highrise. At the time, nobody knew where the terrorists' next target would be, and early in the day, our managers told us we could go home if we wanted. I opted to stay, as the worst that could happen was that a plane would slam into our building, I would be killed, and then go to heaven, never to suffer again. That didn't seem to me such a bad option. Thankfully, there were no more attacks, but one thing I will never forget is the news reports of people dancing in the streets in the Middle East, celebrating the fact that America had been attacked and thousands had been killed. It hurt deeply to see their sick glee.

I never dreamed that nearly ten years later, the same celebrating over a death would be taking place in America. At long last, the perpetrator of these attacks has been caught and brought to eternal justice. Part of me is thankful that Bin Laden will no longer be inflicting his fierce hatred on America. I'm grateful to our brave troops for going in and doing the job that needed to be done, carefully avoiding the killing of innocent lives, and getting the bad guys. This is a great victory, and for that I'm glad. However, it saddens me to see Americans gleefully celebrating a man's death. I don't care who he was or what he did, celebrating any death is a sin. Proverbs 24:17-20 states:

Do not gloat when your enemy falls;

when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice,

or the LORD will see and disapprove

and turn his wrath away from them.

Do not fret because of evildoers

or be envious of the wicked,

for the evildoer has no future hope,

and the lamp of the wicked will be snuffed out.

It makes me incredibly sad to think that a man who had so much potential could go so wrong. He was definitely an evildoer and an enemy, but Jesus gave His life for Osama bin Laden just as much as He did it for anyone else. Whatever evil Bin Laden did, it is truly a tragedy that he now has to pay with an eternity of fire and torment. It is without a doubt what he deserves, but that is a punishment I would not wish on my worst enemy, and it is what all of us deserve.

I think about Bin Laden's sympathizers dancing in the streets celebrating the attack on America, and I am ashamed to think that we would do the same thing when Bin Laden is killed. Yes, victory is a cause for celebration, but death is not.

On the other hand, just yesterday our pastor preached on King David's friends later in life. One of those friends was General Joab. David's reign was threatened by a bitter enemy named Absalom, who was determined to overthrow the King and take over. One catch: Absalom was David's son. David commanded Joab to crush the rebellion but to spare the life of his son. However, when Absalom's hair got caught in a tree and Joab was nearby, Joab took that opportunity to put an end to the threat to the King's life. When David heard the news that his son was dead, he was heartbroken. He mourned so deeply that his army slunk away as if they had suffered a defeat rather than a great victory. Joab then had to go to the King and remind him that the army had saved his life. While David didn't celebrate his son's death, he did realize the need to encourage the army and his subjects, and he returned to his duties.

Another thing that just came to mind was that after the Israelites crossed the Red Sea on dry land, and then the sea collapsed on the Egyptian army, the Israelites sang a song of praise to God for delivering them from the oppressive Pharaoh. They brought out their tambourines and danced in celebration.

All that to say, I have mixed feelings about Bin Laden's death. This is a great victory, and I think we should be thankful for God's protection and that He allowed us to get the bad guy. I believe that this action saved thousands of lives, and the soldiers who carried out the attack on his compound did a truly heroic thing. But the fact that he died without a Savior or a hope of salvation is a great tragedy.

Maybe the thing we should be celebrating is not his death, but the fact that the lives of who-knows-how-many people that would otherwise have been killed by his evil have been saved.

Finally, I will say something that may sound strange at first. I am thankful for Osama bin Laden. I know he was an evil man. He was a perpetrator of genocide, and he probably would have made Hitler proud. But he did what very few people have done in recent American history. His deed on September 11 united America. Democrats and Republicans and people of all religions came together in a way that I have only seen once to march behind a common purpose, and for once, we all agreed on something. It was a beautiful thing. For that, I thank Bin Laden. May we continue in that spirit of unity.