It’s been awhile since I’ve posted about what’s going on inside of me. I’ve promised myself to be open here, as a therapy. I haven’t been really moved to post more than pictures and video, until now.

Deb and I took an evening to sequester ourselves. It felt good to be cloistered, even for a few hours. We took along a DVD set of Chip Ingram sermons titled “God As He Longs You to See Him.” There wasn’t a guide on the box listing which disc had which sermon, so we had to start hunting through them to find the one we were interested in watching. We longed to hear about God’s faithfulness, but for some reason, we stopped on God’s wisdom.

Chip quoted A. W. Tozer, and the line resonated with both of us. I was about to fumble through it from memory, but I remembered that Google is my friend. The quote is:

Wisdom, among other things, is the the ability to devise perfect ends and to achieve those ends by the most perfect means….All God’s acts are done in perfect wisdom, first for His own glory, and then for the highest good of the greatest number for the longest time. And all His acts are as pure as they are wise, and as good as they are wise and pure. Not only could His acts not be better done: a better way to do them could not be imagined.

This is one that I’m still working through in my head. If this is true, then Ian’s illness was for God’s glory. I can accept that, based on what I’ve seen. I’ve watched the church display Christ’s love over and over through this season. But, this also means that Ian’s tumor was allowed because it has resulted in the highest good of the greatest number of people for the longest time. That I can accept, for the moment, because I’ve heard about and talked with people who have been drawn closer to God through our actions, which has been our desire all along.

I think where I’m having trouble is in a future that doesn’t exist yet. Actually, that’s where I’ve been having trouble for months, since about mid-May. The enemy keeps showing me glimpses and scenes in my mind of a future that doesn’t exist. Right now, I can ask myself, “Is Ian’s condition worth God’s glory? Do you believe that God is still wise?”, and I can honestly answer “Yes.” But from what I know about the progression of this disease based on previous cases, I don’t know how long I will be able to answer in the affirmative. I’m afraid that, at some point, I will be questioned by the enemy “Is what your son is experiencing worth God’s glory? Can you still say that God is wise?” and at best, I won’t have an answer.

If I’m not prepared to give a definite “yes,” then I need to be able to state that I know what is best for everyone who has ever lived, based on what actually happened and what possibly could have happened. Obviously, there is no way for me to know that. So, what am I left with? I could answer “no,” and commit an act of ultimate pride and hubris, by saying that I am wiser than God. Or, I can firmly answer “yes,” and suppress the part of me that is screaming inside.

At this point, the best I can do is look at where we are. Not where we will be, but where we are at this moment, and say, “I believe so.” Then, I look at where we are in the moment to follow, and give the same answer. I find that I do trust that God will give me the grace to answer that question each moment, for that moment. But He doesn’t have to give me the grace to answer that question about the future, because I’m not there yet. And that is Ok.