A Little Comfort

I attended a wedding a few weeks back and ran into wonderful family that go all the way back to my days on the east side. Although not members of my church, the Comfort family sent four of their children through my confirmation classes in the day school. TJ, Stacey, Megan, and Rachel were not only former students that I was happy to see a few weeks back, but they are the nephew and nieces of our very own Mrs. Ebendick. It is truly a small world.

            Rachel Comfort is the youngest daughter in the family, and she has an amazing story to tell. She is a spirited 24-year-old young woman, standing at the very threshold of the world which awaits... and her mother would have been very proud.

Rachel’s mother was diagnosed with cancer in the early stages of her pregnancy with Rachel. Doctor after doctor urged Mrs. Comfort to put an end to her pregnancy, convinced in their belief that both mother and her unborn child would be harmed if chemotherapy was administered throughout her pregnancy. Few would have objected to her decision. Christians, even the most conservative, agree with this painful reality when the mother’s life is in danger. But the Comforts kept looking, kept searching for a sign of hope, a glimmer of the glory of God working through the most trying of circumstances. They prayed for a miracle, and in visiting their seventh obstetrician, they found one… a doctor who was willing to take the risk with them.

            Eleven years ago, when she was only 13, I asked Rachel to tell the story in her own words. I kept this wonderful testimony…. and I would like to share it with you: “I know that God has a special purpose for me on earth… because I am a miracle. During the nine months of my mother’s pregnancy, she was taking chemotherapy. They thought and prayed about what to do with me. Six doctors were convinced that (the chemo) would deform me, but the seventh gave me a chance. When my mom was giving birth to me, all the doctors in the room clapped when I came into the world. I was a perfectly normal baby. Four years later, my mom died. While I wished I could have spent more time, I am glad that I was able to spend the first four years of my life with her.”

            Mrs. Comfort died four years after that miraculous birth, a courageous woman who succumbed only in this life to the promise of eternal life with her Savior, with a testimony of the splendor of God shining through the heart of her baby, a girl named Rachel.

            I’d like to end the story there, it would be a neat and clean ending. But life and faith don’t always work that way. We’re being presented again- in the first few weeks in August- with the great faith chapter, Hebrews 11, and this repetition of the people of God living, breathing, and acting on faith. “By faith, Noah”, “By faith, Abraham”, “By faith, Moses”. It’s inspiring, indeed. But- in a way- unsettling. Every one of those saints loved the Lord, and did amazing things, but each of them Noah, Abraham, Moses… all of them struggled mightily. Noah with drunkenness, Abraham with cowardice, Moses with murderous anger. You see, faith is not just about awe-inspiring examples of excellence, it’s about coming face to face with the ugliness of living life in a messed up world, climbing out of the muck and mire of it, and relying on the untraceable ways of an omniscient God (Rom 11:33).

            Rachel’s father (Mrs. E’s brother) remarried a few years later, and with his new wife brought two new souls into the Comfort family and into the Kingdom of God, twins, named Caleb and Jacob.

            As the Lord would have it, in my move to West Michigan, I happen to move to a congregation were a member of New Hope was a close cousin to the Comfort clan. On a Sunday evening in mid-October of 2004, after fighting off a sinus infection for the better part of a week, Caleb Comfort, an otherwise healthy 12-year-old boy, was rushed to the hospital, listless and aching. By 6:00pm, he slipped into a coma. By 9:00, he was gone.

            See, here’s the thing… I know the theology of baptism. I know that God provides a means by which He joins us to His family. I know that my children- by God’s gracious gift- belong to Him… and I fully understand that His family and His Kingdom is a much better place to be than shackled to this place of tears and heartache. But when a child dies… when a parent buries her baby (no matter what age), I must admit… I struggle. I struggle with my thoughts. I wrestle with my words. And I come toe-to-toe with very basic issues of faith.

            “If you have faith”, Jesus said, “no bigger than a tiny mustard seed, you could tell this mulberry tree to pull itself up, roots and all, and to plant itself in the ocean… And it would!” (Luke 17:6). And yet, how can we pray with the deepness and passion of a warrior of God, with childlike faith and Christ-like conviction… but the tree doesn’t even sway?!

            So the call came to pray… that late Sunday night for young Caleb. And I did. I prayed hard. And I knew then as I know now, the Lord of life was in complete control. For as little time as we had to work with, for as quickly and as fervently as knees were hitting the floor- God was still God. And faith was still faith. And we weren’t asking for trees to be uprooted and thrown into the sea, but a boy’s life to be spared.

            It wasn’t.

            And I felt as if I was left standing in the valley of the shadow of death to wonder about- to question- one of two things: Either my faith… or God’s Word.

            Since my faith is at least strong enough to believe in and lean on the timeless, unerring Word of the Lord, all that remains- in making any sense out of all this- is my faith. Perhaps my faith fails to fit even into a mustard seed.

            “Lord”, I say with the apostles, “Increase my faith”.

            I look to that verse in Luke 17, about moving trees, and I see that Jesus is not questioning faith. This was not a “ye of little faith” episode. The point- which I think is very hard lesson for us to learn- is this: It’s not so much about great faith in God as it is faith in a great God.

            To understand, as much as Jesus did in the Garden of Gethsemane when His human will and His Father’s divine will went toe-to-toe, to understand that for as hard as we may pray… for as much faith, and hope, and confidence we have in moving mountains and tossing trees, that God still knows what He’s doing. That His will, His design, trumps our meager plans.

            And the faith required in commanding trees to move comes not so much in understanding the dynamics of physics as it is trusting God, rejoicing in God’s “yes”… reveling in His power and strength, but accepting “no” for an answer even when it makes no sense.

            So, if you’ve ever been down in that valley. If you’ve ever struggled with the very basic issues of faith, then understand that much more than the depth of your faith vs. the reliability God’s Word… that God is standing there with you. Unchanged. Unmoving. Completely in control. That beyond faith and hope and prayer, there is almighty God.

            That despite the size of our faith, be it the size of a mustard seed or a mulberry tree… it is the size of our God that matters.

            And if anybody could attest to the greatness of God, who can truly rejoice in the beauty of the promise of Jesus… it is little Caleb Comfort.

            Who- in spite of our prayers to stay here on earth- now understands what we don’t.