Pop’s Page

Last weekend was one of celebration. Susan & I celebrated her improved medical condition by joining with other friends as we witnessed the wedding of a young couple who are members of our church. That Susan felt good enough, not only to attend the wedding, but also the reception, was itself something to celebrate. For me the most important part of a wedding is the recitation by the bride and groom of their wedding vows. Since it’s been over 37 years since I said my vows “in the presence of God and these witnesses,” I find it’s very helpful me to reaffirm them silently to myself even as the groom does his part. It is particularly poignant in these days when he comes to that phrase: “in sickness and health.” As a healthy 25-year-old when I made these vows to my beloved, I had but the dimmest idea of what this would mean. In fact, as the older “fragile male” partner in the marriage, I secretly harbored the idea that it would be Susan that had to knuckle down to care for me as I became ill later in life. In God’s providence, and undoubtedly for my sanctification, it has come down the other way.

This was all put into perspective for me as a result of two events that occurred within 24 hours of the wedding. The first was actually not one, but three, hail storms that blew over our house Saturday night, separated by about a half-an-hour apiece. The first hail event was noisy, but not damaging: only marble size hail. Then came the second one. Now the hail increased to golf ball size and inspection of my roof showed that it had indeed been scarred (I hope not too seriously) by the great rocks that fell from the sky. But the third hail event was the most terrifying—reminding me of what the ancient Egyptians must have experienced at the hand of Moses. Though the hail size was only again of marble dimension, it came with a fury that can only be compared to a giant dump truck in the sky unloading its hopper all at once. As I stood on the patio watching it, I saw not only the hail pellets themselves, but hundreds–perhaps thousands–of leaves being impaled and sent down to the ground in a waterfall of green. The violent action only lasted a couple of minutes, but by the time it was over our patio was totally covered by the brand-spanking new green leaves that had only just emerged on our Texas ash trees the week before. What I had observed was no less than a Nature pruning event! That hailstorm did what no arborist could do (at least not one that I could afford). In 2 minutes it had trimmed back every branch on every tree in my yard. As I inspected those trimmings I discovered that the leaves themselves were all connected to small branches, each of which had been broken off cleanly from the bigger branch it had once been joined to. Although I am somewhat fearful of what this pruning may mean to my biggest ash—which almost got wiped out by a fungus last season—I reasoned that the pruning could actually be good for it, since now it will put its energy into making its remaining leaves larger. This would be a decided improvement over the pathetic output of last year as it recovered from a total defoliation.

Which brings me to the second event. How providential that on the following morning I should sit in church and hear Pastor Dave preach on John 15, which is Jesus’ discourse about the vine and the branches. Recall that in that passage our Lord talks about how the branches that bear fruit are pruned so that they can bear even more. I had just seen a rather spectacular demonstration of that the night before!

Reflecting on these events of the weekend, I began to see (through a glass dimly) how these last three years of walking beside my courageous wife during her illness had in fact been a pruning process that the Lord was exercising in my life. Before her illness I thought of myself as a hot-shot consultant, dealing with upper management at various corporations, working out intricate process-improvement solutions to difficult product development situations, flying to Canada or France or England to provide training to eager corporate clients (except for the French!). Or even more, as a church leader attempting to reengineer church processes and best practices. Yes, I was even a Bible teacher with a physics Ph.D., plumbing the interaction between science and the Scriptures. But now, my highest calling is pushing my beloved in her wheelchair—her backpack strapped to my shoulders—through the corridors of M. D. Anderson. And you know what, this calling is far, far better than all the rest! These others, although good and important in their own right, have been pruned away so I can focus on what’s really important. It’s hard to describe—and probably even harder for you the reader to understand—but these last three years have been the deepest and most fulfilling spiritual experience of my entire life. After being on the receiving end of so much love—first from my incredible mother, and then from my adoring wife—I have had the opportunity to actually do acts of love for someone who can’t pay me back. (Oh, she does pay me back in kisses—and these are indeed like precious pearls.) But in this simple way I see more clearly, not only how others have loved me as themselves, but even more how the Lord has shown His steadfast love for me and for us through His providential arrangement of our lives, and most of all through His sacrifice for us on the cross: the ultimate instrument of pruning. To Him be the glory!