Foreword
Ted Cook
Like an infinitely dark drape settling over the noontime sun, like an icy blast of subzero wind in the middle of July, like trying to catch your breath in the emptiness of space…
Smells usually are the most prominent stimulators of memory, but for the life of me I can’t remember the smells that day. The breathless EMT’s rushed in, rapidly compressing a baby’s chest. I had been praying on the way to the ER that God would give me wisdom and grace for this—and as I looked at the perfect little baby, I knew it was dead, its spirit had already left. “I’ll do everything I can—to bless the parents.”
Checking for pulses, listening for breath sounds, checking the depth and cadence of compressions, watching the rate of ventilations momentarily engulfed my focus. The team was working well, every effort quick, measured, and in synchrony. I moved the mask away from his face and inserted a breathing tube in his throat, then checked to make sure it was well placed. Satisfied, I held the tube against the top of his mouth to steady it and again looked at the organized chaos that marks a baby code.
“Dr. Cook, your pastor wants to talk with you.” Vicki, the nurse manager interrupted my focus with a simple statement. Internally I thought, “Come on, can’t you see I’m in the midst of a crisis here?” but externally I heard myself say, “Please ask him to wait until we get this better under control.” She was strangely persistent, though. “He needs to talk with you, now...” Not pushy, but firm; not anxious, but urgent—and there was something in her eyes that made me agree. “Ok, but you need to guard that breathing tube. Are you ok with that?” “Yes, I’ve got it.”
I stepped away to my pastor, Lynn Bond, a man tremendously gifted with compassion. I had enjoyed and admired him since his arrival in our small town. Nothing could have prepared me for what I heard next. Lynn wrapped his arm around me and simply said, “Ted, that’s Corban.”
It was as if I’d been struck in the belly by a board. The air was gone from the room.
I turned back to the code, letting the reality of what I was watching begin to seep in. Time slowed down. Sounds came back, people moving quickly—but I was all by myself in a bubble, watching from the outside. Suddenly a voice, one that was familiar, yet I’d never physically heard before, interrupted my thoughts. “You aren’t the only one to lose a son on this day.”
God, the only One that I knew who had lost a Son on Good Friday, had just spoken to me out loud! Corban had been found breathless and pulseless at about 3 in the afternoon—the same time Jesus died on the cross. Many years later, while memorizing Psalm 91 I realized that God’s first response to our cries for help is to BE WITH US (Psalm 91:15 NASB), then to rescue us and to honor us.
The chaos continued, with no change in Corban’s condition. No heartbeat. No breathing.
“This did not surprise Me.”
“Wait a minute, Lord. How is THAT supposed to comfort me? If you knew it was coming, why didn’t you prevent it? Why didn’t you warn me?” Immediately it was as if someone had started a set off a series of videos in my head. I relived trainings on child resuscitation, walking with couples who had lost a baby to SIDS, medical trainings on dealing with families losing a loved one, church trainings on supporting families losing a loved one, spiritual teachings that God is ALWAYS good, no matter what the senses tell us; and more. It was like leaping down a path of steppingstones all in a few seconds.
His response, “I prepared you, I just didn’t tell you”.
My head was spinning a bit. How could a loving God know that bad was coming my way and not do something about it? I had committed my life to Him. He was my shield, my bulwark never failing. My protector, my confidant, and my friend. Doesn’t a friend share what’s in his heart? Where is the protection? This hurts so badly!
But then my thoughts turned—to what if this event, defined as ‘bad’ by my heart, actually would lead to much good? What if my definition of ‘bad’ was messed up? Could I trust God to be good when His actions were beyond explanation? When they surely didn’t appear to be good?
Could I trust a God who would lovingly prepare me for an unseen, nearly inconceivable tragedy? What if He didn’t warn me—to protect me? Could I still love Him? What if He knew that there was no way I could have done what I needed to do if I had known who I was working on? What if He knew that I needed to give my son that final gift-- that only his mother or I could give—medically, physically, emotionally, spiritually infusing him with love and telling him that I/we did NOT want him to go? God had given me the blessing of being the first to hold him as he entered this world—and now to hold him as he left it.
“Watch for Me every day and you will see Me showing My love to you. If you don’t look for it, you will miss it.”
God was back again, making His final comments. Just like He promised in Psalm 91:15, he showed me that He was with me and that I was NOT alone. He then rescued me from my fear and laid strong foundations for healing. Lastly, He honored me by giving me a pathway to find Him every day—not by doing something, but by watching for Him. God reminded me that I am not the one that starts the relationship. The One who knew me from my mother’s womb had started the relationship from the moment of my conception. The same One that had known all the days of Corban’s life before he was ever born.
Three things God counted so important that He said them out loud. In the midst of the worst pain I’d ever felt. In a crisis I had NEVER imagined would happen to me. Over the next few days—and then into many years—these would echo in my heart, and in the heart of my wife. Could we—Can we—Will we—trust God above our senses, our intellect, our understanding of how things should work? This is the ONLY way through to healing. To LOVE GOD in spite of what we see. Initially this is only an intellectual decision, but as time passes and His healing develops it becomes a pathway to our healing and freedom. First, He brings us HIMSELF—to walk with us. Through this fellowship He lays foundations for healing—then builds on them. Watch for Him. Every Day. HE LOVES YOU and HE LOVES ME.
And remember—THIS DID NOT SURPRISE HIM…