Trust His Heart

 

Dealing with death is not easy for any of us. Whether death is sudden and unexpected or whether it is the culmination of a long illness, we all struggle with letting go of our loved ones. In 1986, four tragic deaths tested my faith and alienated me from the Lord.

My cousin, Ray, was a fun-loving young guy in his 20s. He and his wife, Debbie, had a little boy who was nine months old. Ray was driving home from work in the wee hours of the morning. As he descended a hill, the entire electrical system on his car went out. A giant truck crested the hill behind him, but its driver never saw Ray’s car until it was too late. Ray was killed instantly. He left a young wife, a baby, and no life insurance.

Andy Boggs, at 21-years-old, was an extremely gifted musician and composer who was being treated at Mayo Clinic for a rare type of brain cancer. Andy seemed to respond remarkably well to the treatment, and despite the low survival rate of this cancer, doctors were hopeful. I invited Andy to be a guest on my radio program, and my producer and I both felt an immediate rapport with this brave young man and his family.

Early that year, he went to Mayo for a routine checkup. The doctors were shocked to discover the cancer had spread like wildfire. His parents were told to take him home and make him as comfortable as possible. Andy Boggs died with the promise of musical greatness still in him.

Ron Jones owned a hair and makeup salon in Chicago and was my personal friend. When we met in 1972 he helped me prepare for each level of the Miss America Pageant. We stayed in touch regularly over the years. Ron was a kind man who gave generously to others without thought of cost. When he was diagnosed with brain tumors, I was stunned and filled with dread. I watched those tumors destroy him a little bit at a time. It was a slow, terrible way to die. Ron’s family helped him do that with dignity.

Linda Jorerres, a mother of four in her 30s, and her husband, Tom, were friends of ours for a number of years. She was diagnosed with cancer that, because of medical error, had already spread to her liver. She endured chemotherapy, radiation, and unbelievable pain at the same time she was sending her youngest off to preschool for the first time.

She wasn’t doing well, and I called her husband to see if she was open to visitors. I had such a burden to pray for her. He called back to say that Wednesday would be good. On Wednesday morning my husband called from his office and said, “I think you’d better sit down. Lind Joerres died this morning.” I hung up the phone without speaking.

I was so angry with God. I couldn’t pray. I couldn’t read the Bible. I did not want any pat answers or easy Scriptures. Unresolved pain burned inside me. Then one day in my car I could no longer stop my tears or questions. “Why God? Why? Why? Why?” Alone in my car, in the quiet of my heart, came a response so clear it seemed almost audible. I am sovereign. Silence.

I knew what God was saying. Either He is God or He isn’t. If He is, I needed to trust His will in all things – and not just in the things I understood or agreed with. If I was willing to let go of my hurt and my anger and offer it all to Him, in return He would give me His peace and comfort.

Letting go, relinquishing, releasing – give it all to Him. It’s a day-by-day, moment-by-moment challenge. It is never easy to do this, but when we do, it always leads us straight to the heart of God.