Leslie A Lamb/Sifted Wheat

Category: testimony

  • Dave Ramsey called me “STUPID”

    I will never forget that day. I found myself in a tough financial situation, and needed some advice. Who better to get financial advice from than Dave, right? I called the number, I waited for what seemed like hours (but was more like 20 minutes), and an operator asked me my problem. “I don’t have health insurance and my daughter was recently hospitalized, I need some advice.” I couldn’t believe my blessing when I heard her say, “Hold on. We will patch you thru.”

    What? Deep breath. (Okay, a few deep breaths and a quick prayer.) “Hello, you’re on the air…” It wasn’t an all together big thing to be on the radio, I cohosted a local radio show, mostly it was the knowledge that I was talking to THE Dave Ramsey. I began to share with him my problem, stating that my husband and I had been without health insurance for a little over two years, and we were suddenly stuck in a situation with medical bills that we weren’t altogether prepared for. I didn’t get much further. “What!?” He was appalled. I don’t remember the exact next few words, but he finished it with “Of course you are in a bad situation, you are stupid!” He rattled something off about finding an endorsed insurance provider right away and to never make that stupid mistake again. No time for response, the music played, the endorsements started and the show was over.

    It was my turn to be dumbfounded. And then, I was angry.

    Stupid is one of my least favorite words in the world. You can call me ignorant, unwise, naïve, but don’t call me stupid! I wanted to call him back, not in a fit of anger exactly, I was biting back tears of explanation. It wasn’t stupidity that led us to make that decision. It was faith!

    My husband and I have never been in debt. We learned early on that you only buy if you have the money. You never borrow what you can’t pay back. Even then, we lived on a budget and were frugal; money wasn’t something we were stupid with. We weren’t living in “envelopes” but we were very aware of our expenditures. My husband was offered a new job, he had crunched numbers and looked at our present income compared to the adjusted income, it was driving him insane, almost literally. He was trying to figure out how I could stay at home with our kids, a priority for us, and him still take this job that would eliminate a 45 minute commute that he felt was wasted time that he’d rather spend at home.

    One Sunday he was in that same state of mind, crunching numbers, a constant calculator running digits through his brain, but he was on stage at church singing with the praise band. It bothered him that he couldn’t even worship without numbers cropping up, so he prayed, “God, what do you want me to do!?” He says the answer was practically audible, “Don’t take the insurance. I will take care of your family, but invest in My House.” Weird, right? Absolutely. But any responsible child of God doesn’t hear that message and say, “Nah.” In His heart he replied, “Yes Lord,” and IMMEDIATELY the numbers stopped.

    So we began a journey of faith. Two kids aged two and four and we opted out of health insurance. Stupid? According to Mr. Ramsey it was and by no means something we would haphazardly recommend to others, but we were absolutely convinced that God would take care of us. And He did, for exactly two years.

    My husband admits that at the end of that time he felt that God was leading him to be insured again. He began looking and talking to people but procrastinated in making a decision on acquiring insurance for our family. Then, one of our daughters got really sick with double pneumonia and was hospitalized with white blood cell levels that the doctors were convinced were fatal. We were told we’d be in there for a week at least, probably 10 days. Even as we filled out admission papers, I trusted and believed that God would to take care of us. Three days later, to the doctor’s documented and utter amazement, my baby was healed and discharged. Three days and $6,000 dollars later, we had accrued debt that we weren’t prepared for, slight as it was compared to what it might have been!

    It was that debt that led me to call the debt guru. It was that debt that God used to show us that it was time again to be insured. It wasn’t a fear thing. It was just very clear that our provision was shifting. And, in those two years, we had done as we promised by investing in His house.

    But that isn’t the end of the story… this is the part that I want to tell Dave, “God used that debt to show us what our next steps should be financially, and in less than 6 months time, we not only had paid off every bit of that debt, but my husband’s employment changed and our income increased and that additional amount we were having to pay separately for the girls’ and my insurance didn’t seem to dent our budget!”

    This isn’t a story about health and prosperity. This is a testimony of faith and faithfulness. A confession of being weird (never stupid!), and realizing afresh that God sometimes asks us to do the ridiculous, but in the end, He will give you wisdom and understanding that is like foolishness to the world. We continue to live weirdly. We happily live below our means so that we can do more for His Kingdom and His people. Not because we have to, or because we expect His blessing, but because we have seen that there is nothing in this world that can compare to serving God.

  • The day He swallowed my death

    *WARNING THIS IS ABOUT SUICIDE AND MIGHT BE CONSIDERED GRAPHIC

    “Then the saying will come true: Death swallowed by triumphant Life! Who got the last word, oh, Death?” 1 Corinthians 15:51

    In our community we have suffered the loss of 5 teens through suicide in the last 6 months. That’s been almost one a month. So, in an effort to share encouragement and to speak life into broken hearts, we are choosing to make May Suicide Awareness Month and having a huge, free concert this Thursday (June 2) with Building 429, Royal Tailor Band, and Hayley Masters!

    I have a vested interest in this venture. Eighteen years and about a couple months ago, I was convinced that I would be better off dead. The heart-wrenching and overwhelming fear of my future, years of bearing the guilt and shame of a past that I couldn’t come to grips with, and the feelings of isolation and “no one will understand”, were all climaxing to a point where suicide seemed like the best choice.

    Unlike some might think, one very rarely just wakes up one morning and decides to take his/her life. It’s a very deliberate murder of self. Much thought goes into this – the hows and whens and wheres actually are very well thought out. I wrestled through all of those options, and luckily for me, I lived in a foreign country where handguns were not easily accessible, so a blade or a knife to the wrist seemed to be my best bet. I had thought it through and was well aware of the “failure rate” of that type of suicide so I studied my arms and wrists intensely so that I would know exactly where to drive the blade, what blade would be best, and whether or not a knife was necessary. I chose a weekend where I knew that I would be alone in the dorm, because honestly I didn’t want a peer to walk up on the scene and be traumatized. (Strange. I thought I was being thoughtful.) I chose the community bathroom, because there was a large sink drain in the floor and I would run the water so that it would drain away the blood more quickly so I wouldn’t have to endure the sight of blood for long. I knew it would hurt my parents, and come out of nowhere for them because I had worked so hard to disguise my depression and my anguish, but I also figured that they had two other daughters that would fill that void for them. They would be fine. It was the best plan for everyone.

    I remember the walk down the hall. The blade was securely in my hand, and my tears were blinding me. It felt very much like a march to the gallows…even if I was my own executioner. I turned on the light to the bathroom and made my way to the sink. I said my goodbyes in my head, I cried for each of my family members and wished my friends life’s best, then just as I was about to jerk the blade into my flesh, I saw something in the sink faucet. I was crying so I wiped away the tears thinking that I was mistaken, but then I saw that it was a face. I leaned in to take a closer look and noticed it as the precious face of my then toddler niece. Funny, I didn’t think I was going crazy. It was a welcome sight. Then I heard the following words, “For her.” The moment freaked me out. I pulled back and got angry and became once more resolved with the blade when I heard, “NO! You must LIVE for HER!” I know it sounds crazy, but I knew exactly Who was speaking to me in that moment. The Power and Authority in that Voice was so strong. I dropped the blade and fell to the floor, “God, help me! I beg of you, help me!” I heard the door creak at the end of the hall down from the bathroom. I pulled myself up from the floor and wiped my eyes. I was a master pretender. If someone were coming, they would never know what was about to happen. But, no one came. In that moment that I stood and waited for the door of the bathroom to open, all I could hear was my heartbeat, and with every beat of my heart those words echoed, “For her, for her, for her, for her…” I looked at the blade, where it had fallen just about two feet away from me, and I stared at it. I looked at the faucet, where I had seen her face. I looked at my wrists. Then, I remember, squeezing my hands in a fist, dropping them to my side, and walking out of that bathroom.

    I felt two things as I made my way down that hall – “I’ve failed”… and “Now what?” I got back to my room, turned off the light, laid on my bed and waited. The next morning, there was a knock at my door. My friend, Joy Conrad, had made something for me. She brought it to my room. She laid it in my hands. It was a picture album. She had hand-stitched the front with the words “Cast all your cares upon Him, for He cares for you.” But, instead of pictures, this book held about 20 3×5 cards, and written in hand on each one of these cards was verse after verse of God’s promises to me, His love for me, His desire for me, and His purpose for me. She had no idea, but that was the beginning of a long climb out of a dark pit.

    It began with that book. I found the energy to move one step into life. I acted the part of the perfectly healthy teen while I was at school or with my friends, but when I got back to my room, I would sit on my bed, facing the window, and I would sit in silence…letting my heart speak to it’s Creator. The next week, the silence turned to words. I would read those scripture verses out loud and let their power fill the room. The next week, the words were replaced with songs, simple heart-felt songs that echoed my Father’s heart back to me. We stayed in that place for a long time, singing to one another. It probably sounds crazy that I knew He was singing to me, but I knew that He was…He was singing through me and to me… and as we sang, life began to grow brighter. Slowly but surely, I began to write…my feelings, my fears, my heart, my life song…whatever I was thinking. Never knowing that He had given me my purpose in that.

    Last night, as I watched and listened and my heart grieved for those lost and those desperate and those considering, I wept. But mingled in with those tears of sorrow, were profound tears of joy as I nuzzled my husband’s cheek and thanked Daddy God for rescuing my life. It’s no wonder I’m passionate about teen girls…and for the heart of broken women of all ages…it was more than for my niece that He saved me that day. He saved me for every her that He would allow me to meet…and in time He has filled me with a powerful love for them, that refuses to let them believe that they are anything less than worthy! He saved me so wonderfully that year that even the pain that came after that time, and the pain that I recently endured, and the pain that I have yet to endure, in the end, all seem worth it, because with each revelation of frailty, I’m reminded that He is Strong and He is with me, and in those moments of stillness, He is still singing over me.

  • Spirit, Opportunity, and Destiny!

    I think that the church could stand to learn something from NASA. No, really! I was diligently searching the web for a recipe of something healthy and tasty for dinner..ok,ok…I was taking a break from writing and wondering how on earth I devoured an entire Almond Joy without realizing it! Anyway, the title of an article on my homepage caught my eye. NASA: Mars rover, phone home after yearlong sleep. I decided to investigate the story behind the intentionally vague title. I clicked on the story link with visions running through my mind of E.T. holding his (E.T. WAS a HE wasn’t he?) glowing finger in the air and saying, “E.T. phone home.”

    The article was about the attempts of NASA to contact the stuck Mars rover Spirit. Spirit became stuck in a sand trap in April 2009 causing it to be unable to fully tilt its solar panels towards the source of its life, the sun. NASA has continued attempts to contact Spirit on different frequencies and at different times of day in hopes of somehow reaching the rover to find out what happened and how to fix it.

    It is fascinating to me that even though Spirit’s twin rover Opportunity has continued to operate without problems, NASA still cares enough about Spirit to keep searching for that which has been lost. I know another well known “astronomical observer” that cares about the lives of lost explorers, His name is Jesus Christ. In Luke 15:4-7 Jesus tells us how heaven rejoices more over one sinner repenting and accepting salvation through Him than it does over 99 righteous people who are secure in the faith!

    Many people would have already given up on Spirit after a few days or months. Most after an entire year. But not its creators! They have remained faithful to their creation! There have been many, many people who I am quite sure wanted to give up on me. Daddy God who is MY Creator and Savior has NEVER given up on me! He, like NASA, is constantly helping me to free myself from the sinful sand traps of this world. He uses every “frequency” around me (media, dreams, other people, prayers, etc) to try and illicit a response to His Call to serve as I was created to.

    But what about the church? Have we become too joyous over being one of the 99 that we forget the 1? Do the lost get our words and thoughts of pity but nothing else? Do we give up too easily? Jesus encourages me daily to remember why I was created (to serve and please Him), what my primary mission is (to do my part of the Great Commission), and to see Him in EVERY face that turns my way!

    No brothers and sisters we cannot forget the 1! The one in your life that causes you to turn the other way at work, the one who stays in an abusive relationship because she doesn’t realize there is any other type. The one who finds release through cutting because she doesn’t know that her Savior has already bled FOR her. The one who simply cannot accept that those who look upon his tattoos and piercings with such judgmental disgust without even knowing his name or his story could worship anything other than themselves.

    I think it is time that the Body of Christ learned a lesson from NASA. God’s Beloved should always remember that while NASA’s “Opportunity” will eventually cease to function, OUR opportunities to serve will not, and while the Mars rover named “Spirit” may very well be dead, we do not have to let the Spirit within us follow suit. Thank you NASA for reminding me that Daddy God’s Hand can indeed be seen in everything if we just take the time to look.

    The 99 + the 1= 100% ;~)

  • Wisdom from Pooh Corner

    I was lonely this morning. It happens. So, instead of doing the pile of work that has mounted through the week, I got online to reach out…and I came across my favorite wise bear – Winnie. Have you ever taken the time to go through those books? They are some of my favorites! In fact, long before Dr. Seuss or Sandra Boynton, I introduced my kids to the wisdom of A.A. Milne, in the chronicles of a precious bear and his boy. I felt it was a good beginning. It was the best introduction to love and friendship.

    The story of Christopher Robin and Winnie is one of timeless fascination and entertainment, and as the story goes we learn along the way. We learn that just because people don’t look the same or think the same doesn’t mean that they can’t be loved and appreciated for who they are. We learn that friendship is timeless and love is enduring. We learn that we can be “bothered” for a bit and come back to arms of grace and acceptance that say “It’s ok.” We learn that big or small we have a purpose, and most often it is the things that people see as our weakness that endears us to them. And we learn, that even in those times when we are forced to part, our hearts connect us forever.

    Isn’t that a story of hope and assurance that every child needs, every adult needs, every human needs? I’m not sure that Mr. Milne was a Christian, but he certainly loved his son. He created strong life lessons and padded them with the bodies of stuffed animals, and related them beautifully to his precious young son. In the life of a “brainless bear” we experience loss and fear and heartache and imagination. We see depression and apathy, compassion and amazing love…all from a beautiful place called “The Hundred Acre Woods” – A timeless place of priceless lessons.

  • Perfect Timing

    I feel quite certain if I were living in any other time period I would be tried as a witch and sunk to the bottom of the lake. I’m also quite sure if I’d been born in any other country (say a Muslim one for instance, where women must remain quiet and hidden) I would most likely be stoned in the streets. I’m pretty outspoken. I say what I believe, I stand up for what I believe in and I hold tightly to my convictions. In that same vein, I’m not afraid to challenge the convictions of others.

    I was thinking the other day, what if I had been one of the disciples? It’s an interesting question. The romantic side of me would have most likely fallen in love with Jesus. See, to me character far outweighs looks and to be there to watch Him serve and love and care and heal – well, I’d have been smitten! I might have wrestled Mary for her spot at his feet. I’d have hung on every word He said, probably slapped the men when they got side tracked by who would be greater and no doubt I would have wept at His crucifixion. Begging my heart to remember the Truth that He’d taught but silently fearing the unknown.

    Then there is the leader in me. I almost laugh at that, me? A leader? And yet, more and more I’m realizing that’s what this passion in me is about. Reaching out, teaching, sharing, making a difference and expressing it with a voice of authority, a voice that He has given me. I wonder how I would have reacted to Peter! I no doubt might have been the woman that he warned the church against! “Tell that woman to stay silent! If she shares one more story about her long walks with Jesus and that time He danced with her, I’m gonna leave!” Okay, well, maybe not. But I wonder.

    I might have been seen as a religious heretic. I would have found the woman that was cornered in the street, the one Jesus powerfully stated, “He who is without sin should cast the first stone.” I would have watched, waiting, knowing I sat beholding the only sinless one. I would have clapped and danced when the accusers walked away and I would have run to my savior in light of His beautiful goodness. I like to think He would have smiled, because He knew I was there, and then hugged me and whispered in my ear, “Now do as you do – love her for me.” And I would have. I would have told her all I know and all I’d seen and why I would never regret placing my trust in this Jesus that had saved her.

    I wonder… Am I not doing all of that? Except, in the here and now? Where Daddy God placed me safely. Where I would not be killed or silenced or squashed or quenched. And I am reminded of Gods word that says, “He planned out each day of my life before one of them came to be.” He looked the world over and through the span of all time and He smiled and said, “Leslie goes here.” Isn’t that lovely? And I’m nothing special; He did the same for all of us! Adopted and seeking, saved and unsaved… All of us were placed where we are with a purpose, whether we realize it or not.

  • I Dare You to Move

    On September 10, 2010 while everyone else in the country was preparing themselves for the anniversary of 9/11 and arguing whether or not a Muslim Quran should be burned, we woke to an eye opening tragedy. A young man at a local school committed suicide. The belief is that it was due to circumstances involving his pregnant girlfriend. Another young man, from the same school, killed his parents in cold blood and threatened his girlfriend with a text that she was next. After an hour or so of the school and students being in lockdown, the boy was arrested. The girlfriend was spared, school was let out and parents were called. As teen eyes blinked at the shining sky, they began to understand what had happened. The town was in a panic, the rumor mill churning, and lives were forever changed. This was written in response to the tragedy.

    Our community has come face to face with the plight of this generation. After three people are dead and families are mourning and teachers are confused and youth leaders are embracing and reassuring and young girls are blaming themselves for what was not at all their fault, we can see for sure that satan is on the warpath for this generation. And for some, the spiritual battle began long before the news got out.

    I know that God is with us. I have felt His love and His peace. There are people that know and understand and are impassioned to act out in defense of and in pursuit of this generation. The handwriting has been on the wall, there are signs all around us of a world of young people that are being targeted and greatly destroyed. It’s sad. There are those of us that are burdened for these kids that it takes our breath away. We are overwhelmed and tempted to be overcome but we stand up and we stand out and we beg for them to look our way because we have a message from God. We are trying to communicate the voice that we hear. We are trying to share with them just the tiniest fraction of His consuming love for them. But, we are small in number when you consider the affect that could be had.

    WOE to you parents that have ignored your children for the pursuit of your pleasures.
    WOE to you parents that have neglected your kids for your jobs and your schedules.
    WOE to you parents that refuse to get involved and initiate conversation.
    WOE to you parents that choose to blindly turn away from their problems and dismiss it as “hormones”.
    WOE to you parents that would rather spend the weekends playing golf or sculpting your bodies instead of spending time with your kids.
    WOE to you parents that put everyone else in your lives before your family.
    WOE to you parents that think that if you don’t acknowledge it it doesn’t exist.
    WOE to you parents that abuse your kids and make them feel worthless.
    WOE to you parents that harm and hurt your kids to somehow make yourself look bigger and better and more powerful and strong.
    WOE to you parents that wouldn’t think twice about selling your child’s body.
    WOE to you parents that speak with such anger in your voices that they are scarred for life.
    WOE to you parents who withhold love.
    WOE to you parents that could care less.
    WOE to you parents that put high expectations on your kids that they can never live up to.
    WOE to you parents that are not taking your kids to church, not living like you go to church, not sharing the love of Christ, not protecting your kids.
    WOE to you. WOE to me. WOE to us.

    We are failing this generation. Collectively we take the blame.

    Say what you will: “It’s video games”; “It’s movies”; “Its their peers”; “It’s the music”; “Its the environment.” YOU have the authority to promote, allow, or deny those things.

    Satan is on the warpath. And we are the adults. I think some of us have forgotten that. We’re so busy amassing things that we aren’t treasuring our children. What’s wrong with us? We are more interested in what’s on Facebook than what is on our children’s minds. We are more interested in our kids being popular than protecting them from peer pressure. We are more interested in what’s in it for us, than what we are willing to sacrifice for them.

    I say we because I too am guilty. But today, again, it became clear that this generation is in deep need of a love revolution.

    Real LOVE. Pure LOVE. Christ’s LOVE.

    He is the only answer for their longing hearts.

    I have a gift. It’s a strange gift and it is a supernatural gift, but I asked for it and so God has given it.

    I have the ability to feel what the Father feels…and what I feel, no matter what the situation is LOVE.

    When the news of today hit me…His love knocked the wind out of me. He loves everyone of us so deeply. He showed me His heart, and I felt His desire, His passion, His need for us to see and to help minister to a broken and endangered generation.

    This young man that killed his parents. God can use him. Has a plan for him. Longs to reach him. Yes, he did the unthinkable, but Father God loves him.

    The young boy that killed himself. God loved him. His heart aches for what might have been. His heart is moved for a family that misses him and feels acutely the loss. He hurts for the parents that will bear the guilt no matter how often He tries to tell them it wasn’t their fault. He longs to make something beautiful out of tragedy that seems to have no purpose. He loves them.

    The young girls that are even now blaming themselves, separately but the same, for something that they had no control over (despite the taunting of the enemy), who do not deserve this, who are not responsible, who must not believe that they are evil or guilty or unworthy or anything else the enemy haphazardly shoots to the heart. God longs to speak truth to them, His Truth, His Son. He longs to embrace them and tell them over and over they are precious to Him, they are special and they will survive. He loves them.

    The educators and leaders that saw these kids, knew these kids, struggled with these kids. You did what you could. Feel no guilt, shame, blame for what has happened. You had no part in the work of satan. God needs you to keep doing what you are doing. One tragedy doesn’t mean a ministry that failed. Two tragedies does not require you to throw in the towel. He loves you and can use this to teach you that some, sadly, will not be reached. It was their choice, free will took its stand.

    The students and friends that are left in shock over this. You are not alone. The fear that you feel surfacing, the tears that you cry, the confusion that you can’t shake, He sees, hears, and knows it all. He loves you so much and wants you to see that life is not guaranteed. Eternal life is, in Christ Jesus. His Son that He gave up for you because HE LOVES YOU SO!

    Parents, yes, this generation is different. They have to be. It’s a rougher world they are living in. That rebellion that refuses to conform can be a good thing if shepherded. They are creative and inspirational and entertaining and charismatic. Their music is different. They like tattoos. They experiment with hair styles and funky clothes and they find our generations fads worthy of repeating! Let them be who they are, but instruct them in the ways of wisdom and self control. Wait. On second thought. Just lead them to the CROSS. Jesus can handle the rest. I’m pretty sure He likes them being different. It sets them apart, and isn’t that what He desires from all of us?

    Community, we are all in a state of shock, I think…but now it is the time for Christ to take center stage. It is time for us to win back this generation for Him, with His power, in His strength, and overwhelmingly share His LOVE.

    Youth… Stand up. Stand out. Be counted. Live. I dare you to forget this day ever happened and go about your daily lives as if we are not on the battle field. Your apathy or your defeat will affect more than you…it will fail the next generation that is desperate for help, hope, love and instruction. And that my friends, in the words of your uber cool and anointed generation, is what we would call an EPIC FAIL.

    Matthew 19:14 (Amplified)
    “But He said, Leave the children alone! Allow them to come to me, and do not forbid them or restrain or hinder them, for of such is the kingdom of heaven composed.”

  • The elephant in the room

    Cancer.

    That word is ominous, foreboding.  It very literally scares you to the core.  Suddenly that afflicted body part is bigger than life, and you are a little kid in a dark room, looking for the smallest source of light.  It takes your breath away and zaps you of energy.  Suddenly your world that was larger than life is very small.  Your family and loved ones take precedent, and all other “issues” don’t seem to matter.  You find yourself not thinking about that grocery list or home chores that just minutes before consumed your mind, but instead you are thinking about making a will, brainstorming about writing letters or making a video, anything to preserve a piece of your life and leave a legacy for your loved ones.

    Immediately that impatience with your daughter or son about homework or cleaning their rooms or leaving the door open and letting bugs in is laughable.  You’re tempted to run home opening ever door in the house with them, jumping on the trampoline like they’ve been begging of you for weeks, fixing their favorite meal, pulling them out of school just so you have more hours to cuddle and hold them and more memories to leave with them.  You want to seclude yourself to a cocoon of grace and family.  Your perspective on life and living is completely changed.  You forgive any and all offenses.  You cling to God like never before and you hope and pray all the while imagining the worst.  Your life stops.

    This is what I imagine is happening right now with my neighbor and friend.

    Yesterday she got the news.

    It’s rocked our world.

    She’s been our neighbor for 7 years, our children are friends and classmates, they spend the weekends swimming and playing kickball and watching each other play video games.  I’ve known her since college.  She’s been there for me in my bad times.  She brought us food when Maddie was in the hospital, let me cry to her when I was grieving my hysterectomy, and she reminded me of grace at the point of my sin.  We’ve attended conferences together and Bible studies, and we share a common friend.  Her husband is my friend.  I’ve known him longer than my husband.  He was one of the very first to welcome me when I came back to America for college.  We talk about theology and Rich Mullins lyrics and I’ve cried on his massive shoulder a time or two.  Our families, along with the rest of our closest neighbors, carol at Christmas time, dye and hunt eggs on Easter Sunday, and trick-or-treat hand-in-hand on Halloween.  They are more than neighbors, we are family.

    I had a good conversation with her last week, after the doctors told her prematurely that the growth wasn’t a tumor but a cyst and that they didn’t think it was cancerous, but since it was the size of a volleyball, they had to remove it then she would feel much better.  She was hopeful, cautiously optimistic.  She told me this:

    “Leslie, I’ve never had a testimony, you know?  I’ve been a Christian most

    of my life.  I  haven’t really had anything to struggle with.  My husband is

    my perfect soul mate, my kids are healthy, and up until this point, so was I.

    I’ve always wanted a testimony…even to the point of praying for it.  Now, I

    will have a story to tell, a great testimony of the power of prayer and God’s

    faithful people.”

    She was crying as she told me, not out of fear but out of joy that she had a testimony to share!  And, little did we know exactly what that story would be.  Seems crazy that I would say that this is an answer to prayer, or that I would be cold or callous enough to mention that God was involved in this…but I am reminded, “My ways are not your ways, neither are My thoughts your thoughts.”  It doesn’t make sense and yet, here it is.  The elephant in the room.

    Her testimony is just beginning.  The road before her is long, and she will feel every bump that comes.  But, He is faithful.  And just like my stories – my many testimonies (even those I have yet to share) – she will turn back to strengthen and encourage and to help and to intercede because she might not have walked their road, but she’s walked hers….and regardless of how it goes, her story will be His story.  And, He will be glorified.

    How can I say that so surely?  Well, I haven’t heard that frightening word.  But “You’re going blind.” and “We found a spot on your brain,” found me pondering my life just the same.  “Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.”  Honest words from a transparent heart.  And, He healed me.  Completely.  My eyes were miraculously touched much faster than the doctors even fathomed.  My “spot” was merely a bruise from a recent concussion, or was it?  My God is faithful.  I’m not the exception.

    Cancer.

    Yes, it’s hard to imagine, but God is bigger than even that.  I know of an amazing little boy who beat brain cancer, and rides horses and swims and fishes as if  he never got that diagnosis. He shares a story…a testimony of prayer and the faithfulness of a God that heals and offers peace, inexplicable…with so many others. Like the elderly woman, a spiritual giant in our church, that still shakes a little every time she goes to the doctor, whose eyebrows never grew back and whose chemo damaged her tear ducts…but today she praises God with grateful tears Who gave her back her health.  Or, it’s like the story of an incredible young lady that eventually died of bone cancer 15 years ago, and in her death she left behind such a legacy of faith and healing that I still tear up to see her swollen face and hairless body in pictures.  All great testimonies…truly beautiful glimpses of God’s grace.

    Chemo is my friend’s next frightening step, and we’d appreciate your prayers.  The writer in me chooses to call this Chapter One.  His story begins again, in her testimony.