the voice of Truth

Let me begin with this: There is nothing like the voice of Truth from the mouth of God when you are standing before a giant named Fear.

Today, that voice whispered precisely in my ear as I sat in the bathroom of the emergency room at Western Wake Hospital. He didn't speak in a sentence but in a short phrase--a Scriptural reference to be exact.

"John 14:13......14."

This phrase was in response to my plea: "Lord, please silence the voice of the enemy, because he is loud, and I am afraid. I need to hear You speak." Instantly, as if He were waiting on bated breath to say it when I would finally be still enough to really hear Him, He responded. It wasn't the first time He had spoken this night, and it would not be the last.

I quickly made my way back across the ER to room 27 where my precious nine-year old boy lay so still in a hospital bed. Yes, our sweet Anderson was very sick.

It all started on Monday night with vomiting, followed by a fever, and then diarrhea--the same symptoms Bennett had just days before. Bennett was healthy once again, so to be honest, I just prayed Anderson would soon be well while allowing him to sleep all day Tuesday, assuming this, too, would pass. Around 11 pm that night, I was going to bed so I tried to wake him to go to the restroom. He woke up, but as I mentioned in the previous blog, he had been a bit loopy from the fever, and he was very out of sorts at this moment. I decided to let him sleep, but within five or ten minutes, I heard him call out, "Help!" He was urinating on himself and on the sofa, but it appeared he was confused, unable to determine how to get to the bathroom. I woke Paul from his sleep, and the two of us took him to the restroom to clean him up, and when Paul told him to use the restroom, he didn't. He stood there, frozen. Paul repeated the command, and he mumbled, "How do I do that?"

Thinking he would soon have his wits about him, we put him in the bathtub. We would give him simple commands such as stretch out your arms, but he would seem to freeze, confused, unable to follow through. We asked him who we were, but he wouldn't answer. He had a confused, vacant look in his eyes. It was as if he couldn't formulate a thought verbally but could only repeat what we said to him. He was hot to the touch, but my oral thermometer was broken, and I did think at that point that he was dehydrated. We bathed him, talked to him, pleaded with him, even commanded him to come out of his stupor, but he seemed lost. Gone. He was there, but he wasn't. And that is when the giant, Fear, entered the room.

And simultaneously I heard it: "He's going to be fine."

I didn't know it at the time, but Paul heard those exact words in his spirit, too. Not audibly, but assuredly. And no matter how confident we felt that it was the Lord Who owned those words, that confidence would soon be put to the test, and those thoughts of "that was just what you wanted to think" and "he may end up fine, but what are you going to have to go through to get there" tried to settle into the spaces of our minds.

I called my mother who told me to call the doctor, but I knew that it would take time to get through the emergency line, so we loaded Anderson into the car to head for the ER. We buckled him in, but he continued to try to buckle himself even after I told him that he was buckled. He was clearly confused, acting as if he was asleep with his eyes wide open. I kept talking to him, not wanting him to go into some type of a coma, and he would respond, but usually his answers did not make sense. In fact, at some points it seemed as if his history and geography lessons were ravaging his brain with answers to general questions like, "Who am I?" or "Who is this?" being "the United States", "the governor", "the first lady", "rivers".

My mom graciously offered to ride with me as Paul was at home with Bennett, who was of course sound asleep in his crib, blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked with his "Bubba".

Within an hour, Anderson lay in a hospital bed, with an IV containing fluids flowing into his arm, which he was by no means happy about. He cried and screamed as they stuck him with needles, with me hoping that this would snap him out of his stupor, but it didn't. He only seemed afraid and more confused, and so was I. And when the fluids and Tylenol and Motrin hydrated his body and reduced his 103.5 temperature and he still was not responsive, everyone--including the doctor and the nurse--was concerned and confused, too. No one but God knew exactly what was transpiring in his athletic, weakened body.

The next few hours consisted of Anderson resting as the fluids refreshed his weary body, Mom and I watching HGTV and praying, making phone calls to Paul at home to give him an update, and us coming face to face with the giant when the doctor and nurse revisited Anderson's bedside. Words like "very concerned", "spinal tap", "meningitis", "we'll have to put him under" flew into the air like huge stones, landing like thuds with their enormous weights. I called Paul with the update, and the giant revisited him, too. In some respects, we were buckling under the weight of the giant, but for the most part we were clinging to the quiet Truth that had been whispered in our minds and that was written deep in our hearts, ready to fight that giant, and refusing to give in.

By 5 am, Paul was at the hospital with me, and Mom was at home with sleeping Bennett. Finally, I felt like I could take a break in the restroom, and that is when I quieted my thoughts long enough to hear the One Whose voice I most needed to hear.

I returned to the room to find Paul seated by his bed with the Bible opened, reading it aloud to his sleeping son--a tradition we have, by God's guidance and resolve, maintained since his birth. As soon as he finished a particular passage I asked him, "Can I read something?" He handed me the Bible. "Sure."

I was raised in a Christian home reading and learning the Scriptures. I am blessed to have had it sown deep into my heart, so while I can quote many passages, I am not nearly as competent at "chapter-and-versing" them. I flipped to John quickly, I scanned for the passage I had heard, not audibly, but clearly, in the bathroom. I read it silently to myself. Tears spilled, and I read it to Paul as I relayed my experience to him.

"And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Son may bring glory to the Father. You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it."

A promise. From Jesus. Right there in front of our eyes, God was making us a promise. Could it be that simple? Absolutely. I exhaled, at least for awhile.

We placed our hands upon our child together, and we agreed in prayer that God was going to heal our son, that there would be no remnants of disease left in his body, and that he would "live and not die and declare the works of the Lord." We began to speak with the authority granted to us and to tell that giant where to go and how to get there, reminding our enemy that he had no right to not only our son but to God's child who had been sealed in a covenant with Him by the blood of His Son the day Anderson first recognized Him as "Savior". We declared that God had great plans for Anderson and that every one of them would be fulfilled. And for a time, we rested from our battle with the giant.

We allowed Anderson time to rest, to give the fluids and medications time to do their respective jobs. But when the desired result never came, and Anderson seemed more comatose than ever, the battle ensued again. The doctor and nurse (Linda, who was a strong Christian who became a nurse because her three year old son was diagnosed with cancer 22 years ago) were a God-send in that even though they were clearly very concerned, they reminded us to not worry until we knew we had reason to worry. In fact, as the night progressed, Paul and I were surprised that the doctor began to have faith that seemed to contradict what you would have expected from a medical perspective. Anderson seemed even more "out of it", but she decided to postpone a spinal tap and began to say that she thought that maybe he really was just struggling with the virus Bennett had. Not long after, she informed us that if around 6 am he could wake up and seem more like himself, she would discharge him.

We wanted to be hopeful, but things didn't look like they merited a lot of hope. I even told my mother-in-law that I couldn't look at him and have the faith that I wanted to have because it is too easy to "walk by sight" rather than "walking by faith". He looked so sick, so lost inside his body.

Six a.m. rolled around. Anderson had been having evidence of an upset stomach throughout his sleep (this, if anything, is a clear indication that he was "out of it"). The nurse changed his bedding for maybe the fifth time, and Anderson opened his eyes. In the natural, healing still seemed like a distant destination and the path of discouragement was calling me to it. He couldn't talk. He couldn't communicate at all. For fifteen minutes, he said nothing. Nothing. His tongue even began protruding and his mouth looked very awkward. The giant sent words like "stroke" and "cat scan" pounding into my brain while my conscious thoughts combated them with "NO!" I continued to try focusing on what the Lord had told me, clinging to the Truth while the lies of fear pulled at me.

We again called my mother-in-law, Ava, who I knew had been praying all night along with other family members. As we talked and prayed, I took my eyes off of Anderson. She continued to declare what was true about Anderson and the situation, dispelling the lies of the enemy, and I joined her. Paul stepped in with Anderson, talking to him incessantly, trying to stir him out of his stupor. This went on for fifteen minutes. And then, a breakthrough. Paul kept snapping in Anderson's face, and this agitated him. A response--a grimace and a piercing look of anger was directed at Paul. A connection! The doctor entered the room and told us to get him walking so that he would be fully awake. So, a trip to the restroom ensued, followed by a walk. As this transpired, words began to proceed from Anderson's mouth. Progress!!

Ava encouraged us to talk to him about things he loved so that he would want to talk about them. We sat together, talking about sports, and this even brought laughter to Anderson. Laughter!!! It was the sweetest melody for two exhausted parents! Anderson would speak for a moment, but that glaze--that blank stare--would quickly return to his eyes. We desperately wanted to keep him from crawling into himself again and becoming unresponsive. So, we talked, and talked, and talked to him to the point that he began to quietly beg us, "Can't I just sleep? I just want sleep."

Paul and I were both surprised when the doctor announced she would discharge him on the condition that we would return if he didn't improve as the day went on. We left on that promise and in faith that there would be nothing but improvement from that point on.

Granddaddy met us at the hospital. I had prepared my dad to come into the room in faith because that giant would be waiting for him as he had everyone else. Dad was ready, and when he greeted Anderson in the waiting room after our discharge, he asked, "Do you know who I am?" Anderson had a quiet but confident response, "My grandfather."

As we made our way back home, we were rejoicing that our eyes were beginning to behold the promise our spirits and minds were clinging to--"You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it." There, before us, HE was doing it!

And as if we needed any more confirmation that God was at work on our behalf, something else happened. Anderson was so exhausted that he began to talk even less, and I was chatting it up with him to keep him awake a little longer. I am mid-sentence when he interrupts me, his attention captured by a song on the radio. His voice was quiet but clear, "Dad, turn that up."

We all listened, and tears again fell as we sang and rejoiced at what God had playing on our radio! It was the song by Casting Crowns, "Voice of Truth", one of our favorites. Can you believe it? A song was playing on the radio that is all about how we have to listen to the truth when the giant is scaring us to death! The words were perfectly in sync with my bathroom prayer just hours before. This is what we heard:

"Oh, what I would do to have the kind of strength it takes to stand before a giant with just a sling and a stone.
Surrounded by the sound of a thousand warriors shaking in their armor, wishing they'd have had the strength to stand.
But the giant's calling out my name and he laughs at me, reminding me of all the times I've tried before and failed.
The giant keeps on telling me time and time again "Boy you'll never win, you'll never win."
But the voice of truth tells me a different story.
The voice of truth says "do not be afraid!"
And the voice of truth says "this is for my glory".
Out of all the voices calling out to me, I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth."

Today was a day of a hundred lessons that we'll carry with us--about trusting, about standing firm in the face of your enemy, about knowing Who we belong to and how He fights for us, about remembering our purposes here on this earth, and about the strength, comfort, and support of family--our earthly family and the family of God. And maybe the most significant reminder is this: that giant called Fear is an illusion. Fear is only as big as you allow it to be. Faith always diminishes it, and perfect love destroys it. Both of those are only found through Jesus.

We have received countless emails and phone calls from people who heard from our family members about what was transpiring. A million thank yous to all of you for your prayers and advice. (Patrick, a special thank you for your advice in helping deal with the diarrhea--that's not a small thing for us right now!) We love you all and praise God for you.

Anderson has only improved throughout the day. He is unhappy with his upset tummy, so thank you for praying for that to heal quickly. He even went outside and played for a short time today and has asked me to take him to get something special to eat. It is truly a complete turn around since the wee hours of the morning.

And if you have managed to make it this far in a very long blog, we pray that through our ordeal, your faith is boosted, your resolve is strengthened to stand firm in whatever place God has you, that your trust is fortified in Jesus, and that you--above everything else--"may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God."