Peace After The Storm

A Midnight Thoughts Reflection

Welcome

Welcome to Breath By Breath With ALS.

There is something about the quiet hours of the night that causes us to think about things we often push aside during the day.

When the house becomes still and the distractions fade, the questions we have been carrying seem to grow louder.

Tonight, one question keeps returning to my mind.

What happens when you pray for the storm to end, but the storm continues?

We have all heard stories about people overcoming tremendous difficulties. Stories about perseverance, recovery, and miraculous healing.

We love those stories because they offer hope that, no matter how difficult life becomes, everything will eventually work out.

But what about the stories that do not end with healing?

What about the person who receives a diagnosis that cannot be reversed?

What about the family watching someone they love slowly slip away?

And what about those of us who must learn to live with the knowledge that our time on this earth is coming to an end?

These are not comfortable questions.

But they are honest ones.

And tonight, I want to share what living with ALS has taught me about suffering, the promises of Jesus Christ, and a peace that reaches beyond this life.

When the Storm Arrives

I have experienced storms before.

As a pilot, I understood the importance of watching the weather. I knew that conditions could change quickly and that ignoring warning signs could have serious consequences.

But nothing prepared me for the storm that entered my life in 2022.

At first, the symptoms seemed insignificant.

Muscle twitching in my arm.

Changes in my speech.

Problems with my balance.

I knew something was wrong, but I had no idea how dramatically my life was about to change.

In August 2023, the answer finally came.

ALS.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis.

A progressive disease that attacks the nerve cells responsible for controlling voluntary muscles.

I had spent much of my life working, building things, flying airplanes, and enjoying the independence that most of us take for granted.

Suddenly, the future I had imagined was disappearing.

The disease moved quickly.

I lost my ability to walk.

Eventually, I could no longer speak or swallow.

Then, in December 2023, my diaphragm failed.

Breathing, something I had done without a thought for my entire life, was no longer possible without mechanical assistance.

Today, I depend on a ventilator to remain alive.

Looking back, the frightening part was not simply how much ALS took from me.

It was how little control I had over what was happening.

I could not work harder and make the disease disappear.

I could not solve the problem through determination.

And I could not bargain with ALS for more time.

For someone accustomed to solving problems and being independent, that was a difficult truth to accept.

For the first time in my life, I was facing something I could neither fix nor escape.

Learning What Peace Really Means

Before ALS, I rarely gave much thought to the meaning of peace.

Like many people, I associated peace with the absence of problems.

When the bills were paid, the family was doing well, and life was moving in the right direction, there was a sense of comfort.

But comfort and peace are not necessarily the same thing.

Comfort depends heavily on circumstances.

True spiritual peace rests on something much greater.

That distinction became important as my physical abilities disappeared.

There came a point when I realized I could spend whatever time remained wishing for the life I once had.

I could remain angry about everything I had lost.

Or I could begin asking a different question.

Instead of asking only why this happened, I could ask how God wanted me to live through it.

That did not mean I stopped wanting to be healed.

It did not mean the grief disappeared.

And it certainly did not mean I suddenly understood God’s purpose.

It meant recognizing that my relationship with Jesus Christ could not depend upon receiving the answer I wanted.

If I trusted Him only when life was good, what kind of faith would that be?

I began to understand that Christian peace is not pretending suffering does not hurt.

It is trusting Christ even when the suffering makes no sense.

Scripture for This Reflection

There is an account in the Gospel of Mark that speaks directly to this struggle.

Jesus and His disciples were crossing the Sea of Galilee when a violent storm arose.

The wind was fierce.

The waves were crashing into their boat.

And the disciples feared they were going to die.

Meanwhile, Jesus was asleep.

They woke Him with a question that reveals just how frightened they were.

Mark 4:38 (KJV)

“Master, carest thou not that we perish?”

Think about that question.

They were not simply asking Jesus to help them.

They were questioning whether He cared about what was happening.

I wonder how many Christians have asked a similar question during a time of suffering.

I know I have struggled with questions of my own.

Why ALS?

Why did it progress so quickly?

Why must my family endure the burden of this disease alongside me?

And why, when I believe God has the power to heal, has healing not come?

The disciples received an extraordinary demonstration of Christ’s authority.

Mark 4:39 (KJV)

“Peace, be still.”

The wind ceased, and the sea became calm.

But Jesus did not stop with calming the water.

He turned to His disciples and questioned their fear and lack of faith.

That detail matters.

The lesson was not simply that Jesus could control the weather.

It was that the disciples needed to understand who was in the boat with them.

The same Lord who commanded the sea would later go to the cross, die for our sins, and rise from the grave.

His authority reaches far beyond the storms of this earthly life.

And that brings me to the most difficult part of my story.

The Hard Truth

I am dying from ALS.

Those are not easy words to write.

They are even harder to accept.

There are no comfortable ways to describe what it means to know that a disease is progressively destroying your body.

I have lost my ability to speak.

I can no longer swallow food.

I cannot breathe without a ventilator.

And I depend on other people for nearly every part of my daily care.

I see the sacrifices my family and caregivers make.

I know how much my condition has changed their lives.

Sometimes that weighs more heavily on my heart than my own physical limitations.

I have prayed for healing.

I believe God has the power to heal.

But I also know that faith is not a guarantee that every prayer will be answered in the way we desire.

The Apostle Paul understood what it meant to ask God to remove suffering.

He pleaded three times for the thorn in his flesh to be taken away.

God’s answer was not what Paul had requested.

2 Corinthians 12:9 (KJV)

“My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.”

I have returned to that verse many times.

For most of my life, I measured strength by what I could do.

Now I must confront my weakness every day.

Yet Paul’s words remind me that God’s grace is not limited by the condition of my body.

I do not need to prove my strength to earn His love.

I do not need to understand every reason behind my suffering before I can trust Him.

And I do not need to pretend that dying is easy.

There is a difference between accepting reality and surrendering hope.

ALS may determine how my earthly life ends, but it does not determine where my eternal hope rests.

That belongs to Jesus Christ.

Still Here

There is something I want people to understand about living with ALS.

Even though my body has changed, the person inside has not disappeared.

I still have memories.

I still have opinions.

I still enjoy time with my family.

I still think about the things I once did, the places I visited, and the experiences that shaped my life.

Sometimes I miss those things more than I can describe.

But I have also discovered that my life can still have purpose.

Through Breath By Breath With ALS, I can share my experiences and encourage others.

With my eye-gaze computer, I can write these reflections.

I can reach someone who may be sitting alone after receiving a devastating diagnosis.

I can speak to caregivers who are exhausted and wondering whether anyone understands their sacrifices.

And I can share the message of Jesus Christ with people I may never meet.

There was a time when I thought making a difference required physical strength and independence.

Now I understand that God can work through circumstances I would never have chosen.

I cannot tell you how many lives this ministry will touch.

But if one person finds encouragement, one caregiver feels less alone, or one reader begins seeking Jesus Christ, then these words have served a purpose.

I cannot control how many days remain.

I can choose how to use the days God gives me.

God Is Still Here

One of the most important truths of Christianity is that our hope does not end at the grave.

Jesus Christ came into this world to save sinners.

He lived without sin.

He willingly gave His life on the cross.

And on the third day, He rose again.

Because of His resurrection, death does not have the final word for those who belong to Him.

The Apostle Paul wrote:

1 Corinthians 15:55 (KJV)

“O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?”

Those words mean more to me today than they did when I was healthy.

When death seemed distant, eternal life was something I believed in but did not always think about.

ALS has changed that.

I now face my mortality in a very personal way.

And I have had to consider what I truly believe.

Do I trust Jesus Christ only to help me through difficult days?

Or do I trust Him with my eternal future?

My answer is that I place my hope in His death and resurrection.

I do not know what my final days will look like.

I do not know what challenges may still come.

But I believe the promises of Christ extend beyond my last breath.

That is not because of anything I have accomplished.

It is because of what Jesus accomplished for us.

A New Kind of Forward

There is a verse that has become especially meaningful as I consider the time I have remaining.

Philippians 1:21 (KJV)

“For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”

Paul was not suggesting that life had no value.

He understood that living meant continuing to serve Christ.

And dying meant being with Him.

I find comfort in that understanding.

As long as I am alive, there is work I can do.

It may not resemble the work I once performed.

I will not return to operating a chemical plant.

I will not climb into the cockpit of an airplane.

And I will not build another woodworking project with my hands.

But I can share my testimony.

I can encourage someone who is struggling.

I can express gratitude to the people who care for me.

I can pray.

And I can continue pointing others toward Jesus Christ.

There is still purpose in the time I have been given.

My goal is no longer to accomplish everything I once planned.

It is to be faithful with what remains.

That is my new kind of forward.

One day.

One opportunity.

One breath at a time.

A Quiet Invitation

Perhaps you began reading this reflection because you are facing a difficult season of your own.

Maybe your circumstances are nothing like mine.

Perhaps you are grieving someone you love.

Perhaps you are struggling with illness, loneliness, fear, or the uncertainty of tomorrow.

Or perhaps everything in your life appears to be going well, but you have never seriously considered what happens when your earthly life comes to an end.

Whatever brought you here, I want to invite you to consider Jesus Christ.

Christianity is not a promise that believers will escape suffering.

It is the good news that God has provided salvation through His Son.

Jesus said:

John 14:6 (KJV)

“I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”

These are powerful words.

They remind us that our greatest need is not simply an easier life.

Our greatest need is reconciliation with God.

Jesus Christ offers forgiveness of sins and eternal life to those who place their faith in Him.

If you have never trusted Christ as your Savior, I encourage you to open the Scriptures and consider His invitation.

And if you already belong to Him but are facing a storm, remember that suffering does not mean God has abandoned you.

Bring Him your fears.

Bring Him your questions.

Bring Him the burdens you cannot carry alone.

You may not receive every answer you desire.

But you can place your trust in the One who has overcome the grave.

Closing Thoughts

When I began this reflection, I asked what happens when we pray for the storm to end, but it continues.

For me, the answer has not come through physical healing.

ALS remains.

My body continues to depend on machines and caregivers.

And the reality of death has not disappeared.

But something important has changed.

I no longer believe that peace requires my circumstances to return to what they once were.

The peace I am seeking is found in knowing Jesus Christ and trusting His promises.

I think again about the disciples on the Sea of Galilee.

They were frightened because they believed they might die.

Yet the Lord of life was with them.

My circumstances are different, but the question is still relevant.

Do I believe Jesus Christ is who He says He is?

Do I believe He conquered death?

Do I believe His promise of eternal life?

I do.

And that belief gives me a reason to continue, even when tomorrow is uncertain.

One day, my struggle with ALS will end.

I do not know when that day will come.

But I know where I have placed my hope.

Not in my ability to survive.

Not in my own goodness.

Not in anything I have earned.

My hope rests in Jesus Christ.

My storm may never end in this life, but because of Jesus Christ, I know that my suffering will not have the final word.

Until next time, God bless.

.