I cried every day, but not in front of anyone - not in front of my wife, not in front of my daughter. I felt like I was living in a nightmare, and I was terrified of how it might end. The harsh reality that death doesn’t spare beautiful bald-headed little girls crashed down upon us. We prayed for each of them, and four times God said no. My wife and I bonded with and ministered to four other families who were hoping against hope that their loved ones would be healed. ICU and Unanswered PrayerĮvery day I saw children suffering excruciating pain, and at night I heard their unanswered cries for help. Because of our daughter’s age, my wife and I alternated days and nights living in the pediatric ICU and isolation rooms while my daughter underwent treatment. He said our lives might not ever be the same.
After they ran more tests the next day, her oncologist told us that she had a potentially terminal form of cancer. Then our doctor came and told us that our daughter had cancer. My wife and I waited for hours in a cold, dim room. So we rushed her to the emergency room, and I carried her in my arms into the hospital. She said our daughter had tried to go to the bathroom but couldn’t stand up. Our phone rang at two o’clock in the morning. I had prayed earlier that day, “God, please show us what’s wrong with our daughter.” God answered my prayer. Our daughter had said she wasn’t feeling well during a visit to Grandma’s house, so my wife let her stay there overnight. Then one evening my wife came home without her. The problem progressively grew worse over three weeks, and each week we took her to the doctor, but nothing took her pain away. One day my 8-year-old daughter came home from a friend’s sleepover with a stiff neck. But God wanted to deepen my relationship with him, so he brought suffering. I could see God sovereignly working in me and through me. And while he was rescuing sinners and maturing them as his followers, he also was growing my family with children, one every two years until we had six. Then he called me to pastor a church one city block north of the epicenter of the 1992 Los Angeles riots. When I finished, God blessed me with a wonderful wife. I spent most of my time in college in campus ministry, and then pursued training in seminary. Pursuing God became the passion of my life. As I grew, I was exposed to Reformed teaching about the sovereignty of God and learned that he works his purposes in my life and in all things for his glory and for the good of those who love him. So I read and reread my Bible, I prayed, and I prayed more, and I plunged headfirst into the church. God gave me a ravishing hunger to know him.
I eventually repented and believed, and Jesus rescued me from the tragedy of not knowing God. A janitor at my college used his breaks to preach the gospel.