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Both of my parents were people of strong Presbyterian faith, but it was my father who had a big influence on me. I was very tuned into my father. When he was worried, I was worried. I did not like to see him upset.
My father was a doctor in the days before health insurance. (Yes, there was a time before health insurance.) It meant collecting payment from patients who might not be able to pay their bills. He worried over caring for his patients without regard to payment, while also paying bills, meeting payroll, and his tithe to the church.
I didn’t understand his stress but I could tell he was upset. On one particular occasion I plucked up the courage to ask him why he was worried. He explained that he didn’t have quite enough money that month and he was trying to figure out how to pay bills and his tithe to the church. “What are you going to do,” I asked him. His reply was quick and without hesitation: “God will provide. He always does.” If relying on God satisfied my dad it seemed good enough for me.
During my teen years, I wrestled with my faith and questioned my father’s. I understood more about his stress and the depression he struggled with. I was less convinced by his faith in God as he seemed so unhappy. In college, I began to experience my own stress and struggled with depression. I felt far away from God and wished I had the kind of trust and belief that my father had. It would be many more years on that rocky path before I began to find that faith.
A year after I moved back home, my father retired and my parents were planning a wonderful trip to Europe for the month after his retirement. Sadly, it wasn’t meant to be. My father went for his 5 year follow-up appointment to a previous cancer diagnosis only to find out his cancer had returned and had spread.
The prognosis was short, and in our shock we wanted to know how long he had. Dad’s response was, “No one can tell you how long you have. Only God can do that.” There it was… that pesky unflinching faith in light of terrifying news.
As the months went on, dad followed doctor’s orders: surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. I knew he was scared but he was oddly serene. Gone was the stress and the depression he had long battled. He was actually peaceful.
Eureka! During these stressful days I could now see that faith, his faith, as real and tangible - not some platitude or quaint expression but real, strong and binding. The rubber was hitting the road and he was unflinching. I could see he was really walking with God and more importantly, I could see God was walking with him.
Dad got 2 1/2 years out of a 6 month prognosis. While not the best way to spend your time, it wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to him or us. He and mom said it was the best 2 1/2 years of their marriage and we were grateful for the extra time with him. I described it as a lesson in Grace. No matter how miserable we might seem to others, no matter our struggles, God abides with us always.
As Psalm 121 says:
I will lift my eyes unto the hills. From whence cometh my help?
It comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth….
The Lord will keep you from all evil, he will keep your life.
The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in
From this time forth hand forevermore.
Thanks be to God.
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