I spend a few nights each month sitting on my porch, sharing the stars with my old hound dog Jake and a bottle of Southern Comfort -- because of nightmares and thoughts about things I've seen, things I've done, and things I've lost. God could fix this by giving me amnesia, but he hasn't done so, yet.
I stood at the end of a bed in '72 and watched as Frank, my Dad, gasped for almost an hour before he took his last breath. He was a man who had taught me many wonderful things, including how to sacrifice one's self for the sake of his family. I loved and respected him more than any man I'd ever known. God chose to not cure him of prostate cancer, in spite of my many prayers.
I watched helplessly as Joretta, a kind and wonderful sister, died from complications of her pneumonia in '74. She was only 37. God took her in spite of my prayers.
In '97, I held my first grandson (Tanner) in my arms after he died at birth. As I held that little dead boy in my arms, my son saw me cry for the first time. God chose to not save that little guy in spite of my prayers.
In '99, my family was hit by the most powerful tornado ever recorded. God didn't make that tornado miss -- (but he spared our lives).
A short time later, my second grandson (Tyler) was found to have leukemia. I'm sure God knew I did not want that, but it happened anyway. (However, Tyler is doing great. Perhaps God has chosen to answer my prayers for him. )
I lost another sister in '01. God did not cure her cancer -- or the animosity we held against each other at the end -- that I now regret. I can only wish he had.
In '02, I lost my dear 92 year-old mother. My wife and I had cared for her in our home for over 20 years. For the last five of those years, she had Alzheimer's. I would go to bed, hearing her pray to Jesus for relief. She got to where she sometimes forgot who I was (but she never forgot Jesus). I would hear her cry because she thought I was Frank. She thought that I (as Frank) was sleeping with another woman (my wife). God didn't fix her mind before she died, although I prayed daily.
I live with chronic pain from old surgical scars and adhesions. God hasn't fixed them yet.
I live each day in dread of the hammer falling again, and I know it has to sooner or later. What will it strike next --my dear wife, my wonderful children, my precious grandchildren?
I get this mental picture of someone leaning back in their chair and asking the question, "Then why in hell does he still worship such a God?"
I've asked myself that question many times. I'm educated in the sciences and know how illogical much of "religion" is -- so, why don't I just give it up and throw my Bible and my faith in the dumpster?
Is it because of my conditioning? I doubt it. My childhood church-going was kind of hit-and-miss, although both Ma and Pa were Christian (in the real sense of the word).
Is it due to a fear of Hell? Nope -- but not because of any merit on my part. I've done some pretty bad things. I just don't believe in what my Cherokee/Choctaw ancestors would have called, "The White Man's Hell". Punishment, yes -- eternal screaming, no.
Is it because I want to live forever? Absolutely not. I'd like to see my loved ones again, but life has not given me a desire to live forever-- quite the opposite. Like that old Blood, Sweat and Tears song goes, "If it's peace you find in dying, well then let the time be near." Just bury me with my old dog Jake and let us both rest in peace.
So what's left? Only thing left is the evidence -- personal, mostly subjective -- but real as rain to me. Real enough to keep me defending Him, even after He chose to sit back and allow me and my loved ones to suffer. Real enough to keep me from just flipping Him off as either a sadist or a figment of my imagination. I could discuss some of this "evidence", but such evidence is mostly subjective and some of it so personal it would embarrass both of us.
- Do I know there is a God? No. I do not have the empirical evidence required to know He exists.
- Do I have faith there is a God? Yes. Faith is a choice to accept something as true -- based upon hope and available evidence. I hope He exists, and I have enough evidence (for me) to accept His existense. I choose to do so.
A preacher asked my dad on his deathbed if he "knew" he was "saved" and would go to Heaven when he died. My dad's answer will be the only one I'll have -- "I hope so." God has not given me all that I asked for. However, there is one thing He gave for sure -- He gave me hope.
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