Bruce's Travel Journal
 2006

 

And so I stand today in mid-August looking back on a summer that was pretty much spent in my father's hospital room and in his doctor's offices - a summer spent on my knees and on my knees even more, perhaps like I've never been on my knees in all my Christian life.  I don't know how many nights I fell asleep in this very uncomfortable hospital chair as I prayed by my father's side all through the night.  I don't know how many other mornings I jumped out of my own bed and raced to the hospital at 5 a.m. to make sure I didn't miss the doctor who makes his rounds first thing in the morning, discussing treatments, even fighting him now and again as I saw the effects of the treatments beginning to do more damage than what they were trying to treat. 

 

It was at the end of May that Dad got diagnosed with some filthy thing right out of the pit of hell that causes his white blood cells to attack his blood platelets.  There were drugs and two surgeries, there were more drugs... nothing seemed to work.  Then, miraculously, one morning they took a blood test and his platelet count was rising.  The next morning it had risen even more, and then even more... all the way to "exceedingly and abundantly above and beyond" any count any of his doctors ever dreamed of him ever having.  God had "done it," and I could only praise His Name!

 

But then, just as suddenly and mysteriously, the platelet count dropped to a critical level and dad was back in the hospital, doctors throwing more "treatments" at him.  They came to the end of their bag of tricks and that meant the most serious treatment - the one that seriously knocked him down and sent him home in terrible, terrible condition. 

 

You might think I was confused about that "healing," and maybe I was for a moment.  But in my prayer life I knew God had healed my father and that even so, this was a battle - a ferocious battle.  Yes, I got tired and yes, there were times when I was dragging my faith like a wet blanket behind me.  But deep, deep inside, as Dad and I continued to be surrounded by a great company of saints who prayed and prayed even more (thank you all so very much), at the end of the day I just knew, knew, knew what I deep inside knew, and so I battled and battled even more, not accepting anything less that "all of God" in every corner of this situation.

 

Maybe it's just me but there was no way I was going to carry on with my life and let Dad linger and fight this fight by himself.  There even came the day when I sat on a bench outside the hospital talking on my cell phone  to Sharon, my incredible right arm, saying, "If this persists and comes to the point where I can no longer effectively serve as the head of MarchMin, I've already thought this over - I want to hand the ministry over to you."  Yes, I was "dug in" and nothing was going to get me out of the trenches.  This was a battle royale', and I was not going to settle for anything less than complete victory.

 

And then it happened again - the platelet count, out of nowhere, rose and rose to that "exceedingly and abundantly above and beyond level."  We were celebrating all over again, but at the same time my father was so beaten up.  And then it happened again - the platelet count just as mysteriously fell.  Dad was back in the hospital and just a shell of a man in every way.  "Oh Father, have mercy!" 

 

Those were the very dark days.  There's that look on all the doctors' and nurses' faces.  There's the way their mantra turns from "when" to "if."  But worst of all there was Dad, who seemed to have just "gone someplace" - a place where there was no more poking and prodding, no more pain and disappointment, no more trying against all odds... The battle was wearing him down, people were labeling him with terrible words and diagnoses - things that I just will not repeat. 

 

I've used the following phrase so many times over the years.  I remember writing it in Footsteps over and over... "All I could think to do was pray."  During that time (that feels like 100 years ago) things were looking very sour - yet again I knew, knew knew... what God had spoken - that this would end well and Dad would be 100%- and that at the same time it would be a battle.  So along with "the company of saints" who stuck with me and stuck with me, I just prayed and prayed.  Night after night in that hospital all over again... and I prayed.

 

Brother, sister, this may knock you over and well it should, but as of 21 days ago my father is not only out of the hospital and recovering well, but yesterday I took him out driving for the first time since May - something that I-don't-know-how-many people said would never happen again.  Oh, the foul curses that come out of well-meaning people's mouths - people who know no better than to speak death over situations in which God is trying to give life.  People who exalt what they see with their eyes and plaster it high and lifted up on the throne of a situation where only God should preside.  Oh, Father, forgive us!  Oh, Father, have mercy!  The driving concluded at the local donut shop for a celebratory chocolate milk.  Then Dad got in front of his computer for the first time since May - something else that many said he'd never do again. 

 

It's so comical, but when I checked Dad out of the hospital they asked me if I wanted to be referred to some home care people.  "No, thank you," I said.  "Can we arrange for a wheelchair?"  "No, thank you."  "Does he need a walker?"  "No, thank you." (I cheated a bit there - I'd already gotten him one).

 

Across the board they looked at me as if to say, "This guy is not dealing with reality."  They kept asking me if I was sure.  They sent others in to try to convince me.  "No, thank you."  "No, thank you."  "No, thank you."

 

Then there was the time when they wanted to pump my father full of some ugly chemical that I'd seen him react poorly to.  I stopped it.  The doctors confronted me big time.  It was tough but I looked the one in the eye and said, "I am convinced that God is healing my father, so he doesn't need it."  You can imagine the reaction that got.  Then I said, "I'll make you a deal.  Your goal for my father is a platelet count of 50,000.  If tomorrow morning's blood test shows less than 50,000 then you can do whatever you want to him.  If it's over 50,000, you don't touch him."  Hey, I gulped hard and prayed even harder.  The next morning's test showed a remarkable 54,000 - doubled from the morning before.  Hey, that got the doctor's attention!  Glory to the Name of Jesus!

 

There are so many stories - and the stories keep coming.  But needless to say it's been a summer and a half - and needless to say, I'd dig in in the same way all over again.  People keep saying what a good son I am, but they don't get it.  This guy gave his life for me for decades - there's no telling the ways he rescued me and poured his blood, sweat, and tears into me.  When I was a kid he even took a night job as a janitor in a Suzuki plant so I could go to a high level private school.  My Dad cleaned bathrooms so I could have a good education... so there was no way I was going to leave him when he needed me most.  More than that, God was more than capable of tending to the matters of my life as I poured myself into my father.  And again, I can only thank those who stood by both of us in prayer.  Glory to the Name of Jesus.

 

So yes, everyone who knows the situation intimately is in shock - Dad drove for the first time yesterday.  Soon he will be back behind his desk, doing the MarchMin shipping that he's always done.  Dad platelet count is high and he is whole, entirely by the mercy and power of God.  As hard as the docs tried - and I am so thankful for them - at the end of the day it was God - as it always is God.

 

And man, don't Dad know it.  If you ask him how his challenges got sorted out he will use this one phrase - I've heard it drop from his lips over and over... "By the power of God."  Yes, Dad, you're right.  It was and continues to be one way and one way only - by the power of God, glory to His Name.

 

The battle continues and there is much recovery to come before Dad is fully back in the saddle.  None of that stuff the hospital and doctors wanted me to get for him was ever once needed - the wheelchair and all.  And that walker I got him?  What a waste of good bucks.  He's used it only once - the day we brought him home from the hospital (Mom's birthday coincidentally) he used it to get from the car to the front door.  Since then it's been collecting dust in the garage.  I laugh every time I walk through and see it.  Poor thing - nobody wants it.  Glory to the Name of Jesus!

 

On the aside, as I tell this story I am well aware that many of you have lost your Dad or Mom, or possibly another.  Maybe you went through the same kinds of challenges and met them the same way, but then there came the day...  The worst thing in the world would be for anyone to read this story and think, "Why not me, God?"  Hey, we've all been "there" at one time or another.

 

I really have no answer - and I apologize for that.  Sometimes we can think things like, "Maybe I didn't have enough faith," or other (forgive me) nonsense that only serves to keep us awake with condemnation.  You must never forget the Scripture: "There is therefore no condemnation in Christ Jesus."  It's not where He wants any of us to go, and any teaching that gives birth to condemnation needs to be seriously examined.

 

But what I can tell you is that in this situation with my father I never once, in my prayer life, ever got the sense of God saying this was it for my Dad.  There was the one time when they wheeled him in for surgery I wondered if that was what was happening.  But when he came out - and then went back in and came out again all in the same night (why do these things always happen at night?), any sense of this possibly being "it" was no more. 

 

In prayer I constantly felt God assuring me, again, of two very specific things: 1) That this would end well, and 2) This was going to be a ferocious battle.  I remember one time in particular when Dad was lying there and they had just taken vital signs and there wasn't one shred of physical evidence that things would ever change for the better... and it was like in that moment I was flooded with the Spirit of God's whisper, "This will end well."  That was the exact phrase - "This will end well."

 

That is what gave me the confidence to carry on and constantly, unceasingly ask God for "life and life abundantly;" for wholeness by the blood of Jesus.  I can also say that among those who I am accountable to and who seriously know me and pray for me and who I trust in their ear for God's Spirit, they each felt the same thing - that this would end well, but that it would be a battle.  They don't even know each other and I hadn't said a word of what I felt God was saying - but they each came to me with the same thing.  Glory to the Name of Jesus.

 

And so in a few weeks, with Dad making strides toward full recovery, it is off to South Africa for the second Crusade of 2006.  Hey, I can't tell you how many times in that hospital I would think of of being back together with my precious brother, Pastor Martin, serving those people, and just smile.  I tell you, South Africa and its precious people are so deep in my heart.

 

At the same time, I'd be downright out of my mind to just drop the prayer intensity for Dad and presume that all threat is behind him.  If there's one thing I've learned (the hard way, of course) it's that the enemy loves to try to "rob, steal, kill, and destroy..." everything the living God has done - he does everything he can to reclaim "territory" that has been won from his clutches at the hand of an ever-loving, ever-merciful, ever-powerful God.  So the "on my knees" for Dad continues, and not only continues, but actually steps up.  Glory to Jesus!

 

And John forges ahead as well.  I am so thankful for those who have really taken it as a project and worked so hard to create awareness.  It is building and building and John is truly happening.  At the same time my heart breaks for the many I know deep inside to whom God has spoken but they just won't go there.  It is another tale for another day the way God has shown me that it is never His perfect intent for the burden of giving and sacrifice to fall heavily on any one or two of His children, but it is the disobedience of so many who just won't "go there" even though He calls, and His having to get His work done in spite of that disobedience, that causes the burden to fall on the few. 

 

All to say that God has shown me that even though many have taken the vision of John as their own and are running with it, there are multiplied many more He's called who haven't (they haven't yet, anyway!).  Can it be any wonder His work tarries in this and in so many other ways.  Again, Father have mercy. 

 

But John will get done as He has promised, and I praise God for that.  Just the other night, again by my father's bedside at one o'clock in the morning, I was working on small script details.  As I read each scene, scene after scene, I was so flooded with the "wow" that John will be.  I hesitate to make grand statements so forgive me for a brief exception, but may I humbly say that John is going to blow people away with Jesus.  You will see Him in such breathtaking tenderness and, simultaneously, such breathtaking "bigness."  There will be no doubt that this Man truly is "The Great I Am."  Glory to the Name of Jesus!  

 

At the same time there will be no doubt that He is the personification of intimate care, compassion, and love beyond what anyone can even dream of.  Scene after scene is fresh revelation - revelation of Jesus.  And of course the joy - joy beyond unimaginable joy.  Reality, joy, wonder, power; love abounding to thousands, love abounding to the one; the blood of Jesus, the love of Jesus, the wonder upon wonder upon wonder... of Jesus!

 

So again and again, all I can say with regard to Dad, with regard to John, with regard to the coming Crusade, with regard to, well, just about everything as He has done everything He's done so remarkably, breathtakingly, stunningly, awesomely... well...

 

Glory to the Name of Jesus!  Glory to the Name of Jesus!  We stand in awe of You, Lord!  Your faithfulness is beyond comprehension!  We glorify Your glorious Name!  Be glorified, be glorified!  Glory to the Name of Jesus!