Читать книгу Miracle Out of the Mud - Cleon Dewey - Страница 6

I could hardly wait to get out of the bedroom and tell everyone in the house what my heart knew: I had a promise from the Lord! Levoy and the family needed a positive report. Just enough grace to take that next step...that’s all I had. All I could handle was one little baby step, and its discovery was pivotal in transforming my state of mind. The assurance from the Bible on my nightstand was enabling me to cope. God’s Word was giving me courage to face the circumstances. The disease no longer loomed like an ominous threat. The promise was bigger than the problem.

A glance in the mirror prompted a quick touch-up. The distraught face looking back was that of a stranger. I grabbed a hairbrush, ran it through my rumpled hair and fumbled in the drawer for some lipstick. I found my drugstore eyelashes stuck to a pillow, and back they went on my swollen eyelids. Rachel was only six years old...too young to comprehend all this cancer stuff. It was time to see her “Mimi” with a happy face.

Isn’t it amazing what a word from the Lord can do? I stepped out of the bedroom on wings of fresh hope, with head held high, clinging to Psalm 119:116. I shared that promise from the Psalmist David as a declaration of my trust in Him. My family stood with me, according to the scripture:

I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. (Matthew 18:19 - NIV)

We claimed the promise! Tears of joy flowed down our faces and praises ascended. We laughed and danced about the room in the face of the storm, because we believed the promise in His Word. For the rest of the afternoon, we reminded one another of other storms...other uncertain times when our backs had been against the wall. God had never failed. He was literally upholding me according to His Word, as in times past. Anticipation of God’s intervention surged within my spirit.

I chided the girls, “Y’all can stay out of my stuff. Your Mama’s not going anywhere.” Cindy and Suzanne were never shy about going into my closet and borrowing anything they needed—well, almost anything. My girls and I have exchanged everything except shoes. All three of us are really glad we don’t wear the same shoe size. My teasing comment was music to their ears. Everyone in the house knew I was back and in usual form.

Never shall I forget the next day, when I awakened on the brink of the greatest storm of my life. It was not one of those welcome thunder clouds that rained new life into the thirsty ground and made the skin tingle when the hot lightning bolts streaked across the big sky. I was living the real life experience of being caught in the midst of a killer storm that would seem overwhelming in days to come. The forecast was frightening and bleak. Fierce winds would blow against my vessel and would seem to be unbeatable.

Instant healing did not happen and I was disappointed. Although I had support of family and friends, I felt isolated. It was my personal storm and I had to go through it. No one could take my place. God’s providence had allowed it to come and, by His grace, I would find the strength to rise above it.

I have experienced healing many times; sometimes instantly, and sometimes through a long process. The timing and outcome are God’s business. Tongue in cheek, I used to say, “If you have a choice, take the quick one.” I expected a miraculous healing that would astound the medical community. Then it came to me: God does not need my creative ideas to write my testimony. I knew that my prayers were not unanswered, only delayed.

Dr. Fisher pressed hard to schedule treatments. He put forth a precise plan of simultaneous chemotherapy and radiation. For the next week, precisely at 10:00 a.m., I received a call from his office. The message was always a solemn reminder that time was of the essence. Treatments must begin! I stalled. Making the choice to undergo chemotherapy and radiation was monumental.

God, I thought Psalm 119:116 was a promise that I would be healed! What am I to do?

Pressure to make a decision mounted, and so did the confusion. I thought submitting to medical solutions would negate divine healing, and I did not want to miss a great blessing by getting ahead of God’s plan. Impatiently, I waited for signs that the situation was turning around. There were none. Meanwhile, my condition appeared to be declining. My body still had all the symptoms of cancer. The bleeding and pain were not going away.

Dark clouds were hanging low and the storm was encroaching upon the boundaries of my existence. It seemed that all the praying in the world would not change the inevitable. I knew the scripture:

...the effectual fervent prayers of the righteous avail much. (James 5:16)

My human reasoning got in the way. I doubted. There were so many questions and so few answers.

Would I survive the fierce winds of this disease?

...When the enemy comes in like a flood, the spirit of the Lord will lift up a standard against him.

(Isaiah 59:19 - NKJV)

Isaiah was translated from Hebrew to Greek. A comma, which had initially been placed before the phrase, “like a flood,” was instead placed after the phrase. Changing the placement of that comma altered the verse. The present-day Greek translation, “When the enemy comes in like a flood...”, emphasizes the negative forcefulness of the enemy. The original Hebrew version, in which the flood becomes a positive force, is powerful: “...like a flood the Spirit of the Lord will lift up a standard against him.”

If ever I needed the flood of the Spirit, it was the day that cancer slammed my world. I was cast down, but I was not destroyed.

We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed; Always bearing about in the body of the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body. (II Corinthians 4:8-10 - KJV)

In 2005, during Hurricane Katrina, a renegade barge slammed into and breeched one of New Orleans’ levees. The ominous, unseen danger was floating in the dark waters, but no one knew it was coming. Only God knows the renegade forces that threaten lives.

At first, a storm cell can hardly be seen with the naked eye. It might be a small abnormality, far away in the atmosphere. The small cell starts turning in a counter clockwise rotation and it continues to grow with every passing hour. The barometric pressure, water temperature, and other conditions determine the strength and size of a hurricane. These storms furtively maneuver through the atmosphere, gradually and steadily gathering momentum. The same is true with cancer. One little cell becomes two...two become four...four become eight. On it goes until it becomes catastrophic, like a hurricane. When the time is right, it unleashes a deadly fury.

As a hurricane approaches, forecasters can pinpoint its track and the exact location of landfall. The latest technology is utilized to warn the population of impending danger. There is usually a tiny window by which escape is possible. Those who heed the early warnings and evacuate, escape the brunt of attack. Others, not willing to comply, often pay with their property...and even their lives.

There are early warning signs of most diseases, including cancer. The percentages of those who observe early detection guidelines have a better outcome when disease is detected. Modern medicine has discovered many excellent measures of preventing some of the extreme ravages of cancer and even death. My victory over cancer proves that both medical intervention and faith in God work hand in hand.

What does one do when the Heavens are brass and God is silent?

I tried to read the Bible, but it was difficult to concentrate. I was clinging to a promise. The God I loved and served promised life, not sickening chemicals and burning sores from radiation. In the midst of that turbulence, something profoundly simple settled my spirit. According to His Word, He would not—He could not—forsake me, even though I was confused and disheartened. The knowledge of His Word was still embedded within my spirit, though my flesh was weak. It’s amazing! The promise that I received, alone in my bedroom, continued ministering to me and calmed my anxiety. Still, my feelings vacillated wildly, because the sequence of events did not comply with my faith-plan. My soul remained anchored to the rock, even as the storm was raging.

The prayers of countless people ascended to the Father on my behalf. Only eternity will reveal the significance of prayer. I depended upon my family’s spiritual insight and unwavering faith. They were united in wanting me to follow Dr. Fisher’s plan. Still, surrendering to chemotherapy and radiation was appalling to me.

There is an old saying: “An idle brain is the devil’s workshop.” Fear of the chemicals and radiation was overwhelming. All of the horror stories I had ever heard about their side effects haunted me. Thankfully, fortification against the evil imagination of the enemy came by the daily renewing of my mind. Every page I read in God’s Word encouraged me to seek higher ground...to run to Jesus. By His grace, I would rise above the fear.

And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God. (Romans 12:2 - NKJV)

One week, following the diagnosis of colorectal cancer, I was at home alone. My mind was consumed with one thing: what to tell the doctor. I started reading about Jesus’ miracles in the Gospels. It became so clear: the growing cancer in my body was only part of the problem. Deadly chains of doubt and fear must be broken. The Bible says, “the truth will set you free” (John 8:32 - NIV).

The story of a blind man and the mud captured my imagination.

As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

“Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

Having said this, he spit on the ground, made some mud with the saliva, and put it on the man’s eyes. “Go,” he told him, “wash in the Pool of Siloam” (this word means Sent). So the man went and washed, and came home seeing.

His neighbors and those who had formerly seen him begging asked, “Isn’t this the same man who used to sit and beg?” Some claimed that he was.

Others said, “No, he only looks like him.”

But he himself insisted, “I am the man.”

“How then were your eyes opened?” they demanded.

He replied, “The man they call Jesus made some mud and put it on my eyes. He told me to go to Siloam and wash. So I went and washed, and then I could see.” (John 9:1-11 (NIV)

When Jesus and His disciples came upon the blind man, they inquired, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Those who walked the dusty roads with Jesus wanted to know the reason for the problem. Human nature wants to affix blame when things go wrong. We want immediate answers. The disciples were curious.

Notice Jesus’ response to the question: “...that the work of God might be displayed in his life.” The answer was simple and to the point. It is a proven fact that much sickness is a result of sinful living or irresponsible lifestyles. There is a price to pay for choices made. Seeds sown will bring a harvest, good or bad. That is no excuse to condemn other people. We should not judge another person or falsely accuse them. The reason and purpose for their mud is God’s business.

The blind man literally came face to face with Jesus, and he was in worse condition than before. He was still blind, and dirty. Jesus told him to go to the pool in that condition. Some historians say it was about a two mile journey. He had to walk that great distance, all the while being harassed by the shrill voices of the naysayers.

Why would Jesus, who was God in the flesh, send a blind man on a journey that was so inconvenient? Getting to the pool was a huge challenge. He could have healed him then and there. Hadn’t the blind man suffered long enough?

His neighbors, the Pharisees, ridiculed him and criticized Jesus for performing a miracle on the Sabbath. Even his parents were afraid to speak for fear of the Jews. The spirit of fear is not a new thing. The devil plays the same old tricks these days. His game is to spoil the works of righteousness. Anything that glorifies the Father is against the enemy of our souls.

The blind man was healed when he washed in the pool. Hallelujah! Forget the mud. Forget the cruel ridicule. Forget all of the inconvenience in making his way to the pool. Forget the embarrassment of his parents. He could see! Nothing else really mattered.

Jesus healed in John 9 and Jesus heals today. The words of the healed man said it all: “One thing I do know. I was blind but now I see!” (John 9:25)

The details of this story left me with one distinct question: what was the significance of the mud? It baffled me that Jesus did not heal the blind man instantly. Spitting on the ground was a strange thing to do. Jesus putting mud on the blind man’s eyes was uncommon, but it stirred me. The Healer’s hands touched the exact point of pain. Jesus zeroed-in on the problem. These impressions were taking form within my imagination as I sat in my recliner. I couldn’t shake the story.

I don’t understand much about this story. I am curious, like the disciples. I wish I could just have a talk with Jesus right now and ask a few questions.

The scenario of the past week played over in my mind like a movie. I recalled the euphoria of discovering Psalm 119:116. Only a few days later the bottom fell out. Doubt opened the door and fear walked right in. By the grace of God, I revolted against that negative spirit. I absolutely would not allow it to rule me.

That poor blind man; all he wanted was his sight. But, Jesus required him to go to the pool and wash. He was such a brave soul and he immediately obeyed the Master. Consequently, he made it to the pool and went on his way...healed.

Waiting was hard. I was becoming very weary in the drawn-out process. Emotions were running rampant and questions screamed.

Jesus, what do you want me to do? Why do I feel sorry for myself, simply because I don’t have an answer? Why is everything so mysterious...so confusing? What will the outcome be?

A restless nap in the recliner did not take away the familiar heaviness of heart. I desired so much for God to show me what to do about the chemotherapy and radiation treatments. I was ticked-off at HIM for being silent.

Have you ever been in that predicament? You may as well admit it. The Lord already knows all about it.

Deep inside, I longed for a marvelous testimony of healing that would knock the socks off the entire medical community in Nashville and beyond. Some of my conversations with the Lord were somewhat comical.

God, You are really missing a golden opportunity to be lifted up in this town. Don’t You know that I’m running out of time?

What a merciful God, so tenderly mindful of those human anxieties and frailties.

As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust. (Psalm 103:13 & 14 - Amplified)

The ringing of the telephone interrupted my restless thoughts. On the other end of the line were our good friends, Missionaries David and Doris Godwin. These seasoned soldiers were in Mexico for another crusade. Their son, Don, had once traveled with us and played the bass guitar in our band. Our history went way back.

News of my battle with cancer had reached Mexico. We spoke briefly about the “three-month death sentence.” It was odd, hearing those words come out of my mouth for the first time. We exchanged the normal niceties and I thanked them for taking time to make the call.

Then, David said, “Wait just a minute. Before we hang up, let’s pray. But first, I have a little story to tell you. We believe God is going to heal you, but you may not like the way He does it this time.”

Oh David! You could have left out that part about not liking the way God “does it this time.”

He continued, “In the ninth book of John there’s an interesting story of a blind man. Jesus could have healed him on the spot, but He didn’t. Instead, the Lord spat on the ground and made some mud. Then he anointed the man’s eyes with the mud and sent him to the pool. I can’t tell you why it happened that way. Wish I could. In the end, he got his sight and God was glorified.”

David and Doris prayed a short prayer and the conversation ended.

There I was in Nashville, sitting in my chair with my Bible opened to that very scripture. The phone call was not mere coincidence; David’s reference to John 9 was a divine appointment. God spoke to me in an unexpected way. Oh yes, He heard my cry. By His mercy, He prompted someone in Mexico to call. Doesn’t God often surprise us in the way our prayers are answered? Indeed, the answer to my question became obvious. It was time to be still and listen.

How could I be ticked at such an awesome God? I would no longer question the timing of the Creator of the Universe. But still, there were things about the actual story that I wanted to know. What was the significance of the mud? Revelation gradually dawned in my clouded spirit. The understanding that God gave was profound and undeniable.

Mud was all the messy stuff I did not want to encounter. It was the cancer, the inconvenience, the treatments, the pain, even the mocking humiliation. The obvious losses and those yet to be suffered were part of the mud. Deeper insight would come in due time; nevertheless, it was already shining like Heavenly sunshine on the mud of my confusion. The darkened corners of my spirit were growing brighter, and the scriptures that were written thousands of years ago were illumining my soul. The mud was not a dark mystery anymore. Absolutely not! I was created from mud. I had even been protected by mud. The mud of life was all around me. Better still, the mud no longer frightened me. The washing of the Word cleanses it every time. Mud kills only when one stops moving through it. I would never give up and allow it to overwhelm me. I made a conscious decision to embrace the mud.

Insight about the mud was right on time. It was revealed to me by the phone call and the way God spoke to me earlier that day through His Word. Most of all, I was enveloped by the sweetest peace I have ever known. I surrendered to His will, although it meant going through chemotherapy and radiation. Nothing had changed, except my obedience.

When standing at the crossroads, seek the will of God. No one can tell another individual how to respond to chronic illness. I don’t give advice. My desire is to simply offer hope...and faith. Hope and faith supersede medical science. God is not limited by medicine, nor is He dependent upon it.

I finally understood what the mud was all about. My decision was to go forward with treatments in peace and reclaimed assurance. All He required of me was obedience.

When Levoy returned home, he found his wife with a new mindset. My first words were, “I’m ready to get started on those treatments.”

His jaw dropped in total disbelief. He had a question: “What in the world happened to you?"

I detailed the fascinating scenario about the phone call from the Godwin’s and about my Bible being opened to the exact chapter. I also confessed my frustration with waiting on God.

Quickly, before I could rethink, I dialed the number. “Hello, my name is Nelva C. Dewey. You guys load up your biggest guns. I’m ready now.”

I thanked God for the telephone call that reminded me of a man called Jesus and a miracle that involved some mud. Jesus reached into the mud of my circumstance with His nail-scarred hands and got involved with my mud.

Life is full of contradictions. A flood is horrific, while a cool rain on a summer day is refreshing. A fierce wind is destructive, while a gentle breeze is pleasant. The same sun that melts the snow hardens the mud. The obstacle of cancer had created horrendous mud, but a cleansing pool was waiting.

The scary West Texas storms I experienced as a small child are unforgettable. The little cattle town of Lamesa was home to about 6,500 mostly good folks, built against a backdrop of open skies, with tumbleweeds blowing across the prairie. I became accustomed to the twisters that descended on the high plains and, in a strange way, I was addicted to the excitement that accompanied them. I’ve seen tornados drop out of the sky suddenly, without warning. The atmosphere would be eerily transformed beneath a black, boiling sky. No public warning system was in place to alert those in harm’s way of the dangerous weather. We sought shelter from the terror of the insidious funnels that marched their unspeakable destruction across the plains, in the safe haven of Papa’s earthen cellar across the street. I can still close my eyes and feel those worn dirt steps on my backside as I slid downward into the cool musty earth.

There have been times when dark clouds blocked the light of hope. The same storms that assail your life, assail mine. The adversary will never lie down and forget about the seeker who is following hard after God.

The more committed one becomes for the cause of Christ, the more intense the opposition.

With each advance we made in the ministry, we felt the sting of hostile winds. They blew upon us, but they did not blow us off course. We persevered through financial deficit and discouragement. Advancements were made and triumphs were celebrated in spite of the difficulties.

Victories never come without conflict. There is a place on the top of each mountain where the sun is shining. One never rises to the next level without experiencing the struggle of the climb.

Living on a mountain top, exempt from the struggles of life and its difficulties, may never happen. Yet, the sweetest flowers bloom in the deep valley shadows. Their fragrance long reminds the sojourners of God’s sustaining grace during the pressing trials.

In our travels, I’ve been awed by the fascinating palm trees along the coasts. Their flexible trunks bend down to the ground as they’re hammered by the seasonal hurricanes and cyclones. These mighty trees are extremely resilient and their leaves remain green year round. The palm trees withstand because of their deep roots. Though tossed about and brought low, they are seldom destroyed. On calm days they stand tall, proudly bearing the scars of past tempests, ready to face yet another storm.

When the storm of terminal illness struck my world, it was not possible to run to Papa’s dirt cellar. My shelter was under the wings of the Almighty. The faith that had sustained me since childhood had grown deep roots. Like those mighty palm trees, I had been conditioned to stand. My physical body and emotions would suffer a storm that I never dreamed possible one day before it hit. Somehow, I saw the next chapters of my life like the palm trees.

He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water that brings forth its fruit in its season.

(Psalm 1:3 - NKJV)

It takes a storm to know your strength. It also takes a storm to know your weakness.

The tree that’s planted by the water is unmovable. Truly, the water of the Word is the source of strength in my life.

By God’s grace I would rise above the storm.

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RISE!

The eagle spreads its mighty wings and rides upon the storm to lofty heights.

An old cliché says, “It’s impossible to fly like an eagle if you think like a turkey!” Your thoughts determine what you will accomplish in life. Your success in navigating the storms depends upon your ability to get on top of the obstacles along the way.

For as he thinks in his heart, so is he...

(Proverbs 23:7 - NKJV)

The bald eagle’s keen instincts warn him of the coming storm. This amazing bird, sensing peril in the atmosphere, strategically positions himself on top of the storm and allows its thrust to raise him high above the danger. He doesn’t need to struggle. The sun is always shining on top of the clouds.

The secret to rising above the storm is resting in the storm.

...those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40:31 - NKJV)

PRAYER: Lord Jesus, You are in the midst of every storm. I am depending on You like never before. Forgive me for ever doubting You. I long for the time when I am safe and looking down upon the dark clouds that You brought me through. Help me soar on wings of faith to a new level. AMEN.