Lindsay and I walked alongside a good friend two years ago who was diagnosed with multiple myeloma. We watched him survive and celebrate that he is in remission. We trust this same path now for our colleague. Yet we know that the path to remission and recovery is medically intense, physically complicated, and a great stress on a family. This latter reality presses me to tears, for he is a son, husband, and father.
I haven't cried deeply for several years...until today. I cried for my brother; I cried for our community; I cried for the academy, for we will walk the painful road through cancer recovery with him. And most of all I cried (and continue crying) for his wife and children. One never knows how the stages of life will shape, yet the entrance of children into our worlds reforms someone with incredible depth. Today, I experienced the breaking pain of considering another's children and the roads they will walk with their father and mother through these next months.
They have small children, for whom a diagnosis is a mystery, yet the months to come will physically change their daddy, and the procedures will create a physical distance necessary for healing. For this, I cannot imagine. And we weep, for children ought not need to watch their parents suffer, especially at such a young age. This is not the redemptive order.
My heart aches today in ways not before. And the ache is on behalf of another's children and for a friend who is an incredible father. I invite the few who read this to pray for our friend and colleague, to pray for Western Theological Seminary, and most importantly pray for his children and his wife.
We prayed Psalm 62 together today and invite you to join us.