Her hands were deformed, bent, and gnarly. Her body broken and confined. Pain and anguish wracked every moment of her life. To simply pick up a fork to eat took will and courage. Yet, through all the suffering she never gave in to the pain; to her she had a life filled with hope and joy that was succumbed to an existence of a wheelchair.

Music had dominated her family for generations. Her father, John Wesley Brooks, and her mother, Mary Ellen Eshelman Brooks, encouraged her as a young girl to play the organ. She had so desired to continue the family legacy of music, yet, the Master, had other plans for her. As she inspired to fulfill her parent’s wishes and become an organist, her dreams were soon cut-short as she was hijacked by that dreadful crippling disease called arthritis.

Her name was Myra Brooks Welch and to many she remains an unknown. She was more than a mere woman who was confined to a wheelchair since the early 1920's. She was a writer who wrote beautiful poetry that captured the hearts of thousands. Her life story is a story of being an over comer of situation and struggle. Once, while believing she was being pitied by a close friend, she told him, “And, I think God for this.” as she patted the arm of her wheelchair. But even through her triumph in tragedy and her beautiful writings she is still an unknown to the world.

Welch was a prolific writer and poet even at an early age. Later in life she was given the reputation of being “the poet with the singing soul.” Often she would wheel herself over to a desk, pick up two pencils, one in each hand, then with the erasers down she would fight through the pain and type out wonderfully heartfelt poems that reflected the joy that touched her heart. Never bitter from the confinement, she went on to write three volumes of poems that were published by Brethren Publishing. But it is the anonymous poem that she wrote in 1921 that has touched almost as many lives as Amazing Grace.

It is said that she wrote the poem in thirty minutes after hearing a speaker address a group of students. Not wanting to take credit for the work, believing it was a gift from God, she submitted it anonymously to her church bulletin and later to the Gospel Messenger, who published it on February 26, 1921. For years the poem was read in churches and other gatherings, but always with the credit, “author unknown.” It would be like hearing the first movement of Symphony 5 and never knowing it was composed by Ludwig van Beethoven. Then one day, at an international religious convention the poem was once again read before a large audience, yet this time there was an unanticipated surprise. As the custom had become, the reader would finish the poem to a teary-eyed audience. Their sniffles echoing around the room yet with a smile on their face as their hearts were blessed by these beautiful words. Also, as the custom, the reader, with tears in his own eyes, would bestow the credit, “author unknown.” However, this time the ending would be different. This time the answer to everyone’s question would be answered as a man slowly stands from the side of the audience and says, “I know the author, and it is time the world did too.” As every eye turned on the man with hearts pounded in anticipation, the great mystery is solved, “It was written by my mother, Myra Welch.”

Finally the author of this blessed poem was known. No longer would the poem The Touch of the Master's Hand be tainted with the words “author unknown.” It is a poem that has inspired so many; that has touched the hearts of the destitute and needy. It is a poem that brings hope to a tragic life. For me it will never be read the same way as I heard it read one Sunday evening at the old church on Santa Paula; that with the raspy old baritone voice of David “Davy” Crockett.

Three trees stood in a forest: one was rushed through his life; one was scarred, abused, and stained; one was insulted and was never given the chance to be someone. All three represent some part of us. Not all of us are scarred, abused, and stained, but some of us, because of a decision we made early in life, are destined to play a part of life we do not wish to play.

Then again we might be living a life of contradiction. A life that we live only because we were never given a chance. We were called names and told we would never amount to anything. We were told this so often that we finally believed it was true and have given in to the lie.
Then there is the life that shows the marks of anger, bitterness, and rage. This life does not diminish the other two lives, this life simply shows the scars, the battle wounds, and the ugliness of life. All three lives are scarred and abused. All three carry with them the hurt and anger of years. All three touch each of us in some way. But it need not end there.

My Mother's Day Salute

The Day After Pentecost

Questions?!?

How the redemption of man could not be effected by any other being but God.

Discovering Hope for Today

All or Nothing

It was the bottom of the 4th inning with no one on base. The pitcher looked over his left shoulder with a snarl. He took the first signal the catcher gave him and shrugged it off. The second signal came and then a pause. After a moment he shrugged that signal off also. Finally, the pitcher nodded his head and the catcher bounced into position. His legs spread apart into a catchers squat. His glove extended just below the bat. The umpire arched forward over the catcher-then everything seemed to pause, that is, except for me. All I thought about was what I was going to do if I hit the ball. I watched the first baseman standing by his base acting as if I would be lucky to see first base. The shortstop actually went into his stance ready to charge a chip ball. The outfielders merely swatted flies as they waited for me to strike out. My heart began to pound as the pitcher hurled the first pitch.

"Strrriiiike!" the umpire yelled as the ball whizzed by me and slammed into the catcher's mitt.

"Keep your eye on the ball!" my coach yelled from 3rd base. "You can do it!"

I can do it. I thought to myself. I cam hit this ball and win this ball game.

"Strrriiike two!" were the words I heard next.

Strike two? What happened? I looked back at the umpire in confusion, I wasn't ready, and I surely didn't know the pitcher was ready.

I stepped out of the batters box and looked at my coach. His head nodded forward with his chin slunk into his shirt. I could see the disappointment on his face. This game meant a lot to the team and I was going to lose it for them.

I never was all that great at sports. I had played baseball since the seventh grade. Now I was a sophomore in high school and the team was hoping to go on to the state tournament. I never minded being a bench warmer; often it was fun just keeping up with stats and cheering on the players. But for some reason, I started developing at that time and the coach thought I should come off the bench and play in the game.

Sure my coordination had improved and I became stronger, but I had one very big weak spot-I had no confidence. I had warmed a bench for the past three years and now, out of the blue, my coach believed I should play in one of what I considered the most important games of our season. I had already been up to bat once in the game and I struck out. I didn't believe it would be any better the second time at bat.

"Watch the curve ball!" someone yelled.

Curve ball, what's a curve ball? How do I know what one looks like? Boy, was I pathetic!

I stepped back into the batters' box and again watched as the series of events repeated themselves. The pitcher looked over his left shoulder and took the signal. The catcher bounced back into position. The umpire arched over the catcher and braced for the call. And, at that very moment I made up my mind. I was going to swing.

What do I have to lose,and I thought to myself. It is all or nothing. I was going to strike out swinging or I was going to hit the ball ...

You are probably wondering what happened at the ball park in Roosevelt, Oklahoma, that fine fateful day as I stood in the batters box watching the pitcher play out my life with his final pitch? Well it ended something like this:

. . . the pitch was thrown and I braced for the swing. I kicked my left leg up to give the bat as much power as I possibly could. I briefly watched the ball not knowing if it was a curve, straight, or whatever; all I knew was I had to swing the bat, and swing the bat I did. As the ball approached the plate I did as I always had done; I closed my eyes. I never understood why I closed my eyes when I swung the bat, but I did. I believe it might have something to do with the anticipation of an object hitting another object. This is one reason I was never a good catcher, although I did try.

Anyways, all I remember after closing my eyes was hearing a tank.

It was somehow different than any other time I had hit the ball. This time it was the sweetest sound I had ever heard. I opened my eyes and began to run, but at the same time I found myself doing exactly what my coach told me never to do. I watched the ball. I couldn't help it, the ball was flying high and it had distance. It was as if there was something mystical between the bat and the ball that made this ball fly farther. And then like magic, or because the center fielder was playing too far in, the ball dropped right over the 300 feet sign. That's right! I hit a home run! The only one I ever hit. Sure I had hit a couple of base hits, a few doubles, and I think I might have hit a triple in Lone Wolf, Oklahoma, but now things were different. Now I had joined a club like no other. I joined in the ranks of the home run hitters club. I hit a home run! And not just any home nun, I hit one dead center over the center field wall (well, fence for that matter).

I remember rounding first base and watching the ball land just outside the fence. I could not believe it, as neither could anyone else on my team, especially my coach. But as I rounded third base my coach did what he did to all home run hitters, he stuck out his hand to shake my hand and swatted me on the rear. I had entered the club! It was all or nothing, and I took the all, and that has made all the difference.

Does God Send or Allow Suffering?

There was a man in the land of Uz, whose name was Job; and that man was perfect and upright, and one that feared God, and eschewed [avoided or deliberately stayed away from] evil .... Now there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the LORD, and Satan came also among them. And the LORD said unto Satan, "Whence comest thou?" Then Satan answered the LORD, and said, "From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it." And the LORD said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my servant job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and escheweth evil? (Job 1:1-8)

Commentators differ on the reasoning behind why God "pointed-out" Job to Satan. Some believe it was an honorable position to suffer for God. Others believe it was well worth Job's suffering to expose the Satanic fallacy. Still others, however, believe it was a cruel side of God, and they title the book "The Cruel God." Whatever the case may be, the fact is that even though Job was considered a righteous man, even by God's standards, God gave Job over to Satan for testing. Why? For what purpose was there in a man suffering to prove a point? Although the test did go forward, one point that must not be avoided is that Job was not present at the council that took place in heaven. You see, Job did not know Satan was testing him at the bequest of God. Even at the end of the book God did not give Job a reason for the trials. No explanation was given. No council was offered. Merely a statement, "I am God!"

In the New Testament early church leaders often found themselves in a position of suffering, yet this time it was with full knowledge for what they were suffering for.
They took his [Gamaliel] advice; and after calling the apostles in, they flogged them and ordered them not to speak in the name of Jesus, and then released them. (Acts 5:40)

Even Jesus predicted the anguish of his church through the endlessness of the violence that would besiege it:

And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force. (Matthew 11:12)

It would appear in this statement that what Jesus said is still true today. It is as true today as it was during the days of the first church. But why would God allow His newly established church, His very first church, to suffer so much in the beginning? Why not later, when the church would become stronger?
Then what about Stephen, a man "full of faith and power, [who] did great wonders and signs among the people" (Acts 6:8). Yet he was taken by the Sanhedrians (the religious leaders) and falsely accused of blasphemy against the Temple. He was then taken outside the Temple and stoned in front of the people.

And they stoned Stephen as he was calling on God and saying, Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.' Then he knelt down and cried out with a loud voice, Lord, do not charge them with this sin.' (Acts 7:59-60)

However, even this, as well as the others, were direct acts by the people. The stoning was not physically done by God nor was the flogging of the apostles. These were acts carried out by ungodly men who were nothing more than a worldly group which perceived itself as a religious order. Yet what about when God is the one who is directly responsible for the suffering?

And as Jesus passed by, he saw a man which was blind from his birth. And his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind? Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents but that the works of God should be made manifest in him. (John 9:1-3)

There are some who insist that sickness and suffering are connected to a persons faith or sin. "God wants everyone to be healed!" some will proclaim. Therefore, this man born blind from birth would be blind because of his sin or lack of faith. Since he did not know that there was a "Son of Man" (John 8:35-38) to believe in then it had to be because of sin. Thus, since he was blind from birth, as the disciples pointed out, the sin must be from his parents. Yet Jesus said it was for another reason.
So what about this man born blind? How does his effect us? Is there a direct correlation to parents and children today? Some parents do look at the problems of their children as their fault. I remember when my oldest daughter had her "accident" at 15 months old and I was asking God, "What did I do to cause this?" I wondered what sin I had committed that my daughter was suffering. Despite the fact that there are conducts which do lead to birth defects it does not mean a child has these defects because of the parent's sin. One does not always have to do with the other. Yes, some sins can lead to sickness and suffering in children, such as sexually transmitted diseases, drugs, alcohol, etc. Yet because a child was born with cerebral palsy does not mean the parents were "sinning."
In the face of all this however, this passage, of the man born blind, is in full purpose of God's perfect plan. God's glory was demonstrated and the man was healed of his blindness yet only to face ridicule and torment from the Sanhedrians-what a life. However, the intervention of God and suffering does not seem to end there. God does choose some to suffer for Himself while others He does not.
Paul was a man who faithfully served God; but because of such service and devotion God chose Paul to suffer. At first he was a Christian accuser (or killer) who was struck blind on the road to Damascus. He was then taken to Damascus where Ananias, who is a faithful follower of Jesus, was told by Jesus to go and witness to Paul. Jesus tells Ananias that Paul was a chosen vessel that Jesus "will show him how much he must suffer for [Him]" (Acts 9:16 NLT). Later Paul taught that suffering, presumably that by Christians, "produces endurance or perseverance" (Romans 5:3-4). God even told Paul his own suffering with the "thorn in the flesh" was in the will of God. And God's grace was sufficient (2 Corinthians 12:7-9). So does this demonstrate that God is in control of suffering? Is God sovereign? We must conclude that there is also the point of suffering for the sake of testing and discipline. But even more disturbing is the suffering of God's people because they would not turn to Him:

"I brought hunger to every city and famine to every town. But still you wouldn't return to me," says the LORD. "I kept the rain from falling when you needed it the most, ruining all your crops .... But still you wouldn't return to me," says the LORD. "I struck your farms and vineyards with blight and mildew. Locusts devoured all your fig and olive trees. But still you wouldn't return to me," says the LORD. "I sent plagues against you Eke the plagues I sent against Egypt long ago. I killed your young men in war and slaughtered all your horses. The stench of death filled the air! But still you wouldn't return to me," says the LORD. "I destroyed some of your cities, as I destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah. Those of you who survived were like half burned sticks snatched from a fire. But still you wouldn't return to me," says the LORD. [Amos 4:6-11 (NLT)]

Does God send sorrow? It seems he does. However, sorrow is an invasion into God's good work and has no part in His creative order. God created a perfect order in which sin has invaded and brought with it suffering. Yet at the same time suffering is not always understood. J. I. Packer writes that suffering is used to mature God's children; whereas John R. W. Stott feels that suffering as pain (physical and emotional) allows us to function in society. Suffering is often misunderstood in its form, as is evil. The Bible gives no solution to the problem of evil nor to why some suffer and some do not. Suffering is not of the natural created order, yet it is used by God. So to the original question, "Does God send sorrow?" it appears the answer to that question is, "Yes" and "No."
It is obvious God sends sorrow and suffering on his chosen people as well as those who are in rebellion against Him. Nonetheless, finding the answer to the reason of the sorrow is not always clear. For Job it meant fourteen years of sorrow before God restored him. For the blind man it meant he could see, but only after years of being blind. For Paul and the Apostles it meant persecution and death. For the children of Israel, in the days of Amos, it was a horror they brought on themselves.
Some theologians make list for the reasons of suffering. Suffering can be retributive or punitive. Suffering can be disciplinary as a sonship of God. Suffering can be probationary in the form of testing. Revelational in that God's purpose and nature is manifested vicarious or substitutionary in the death of Christ. Testimonial in being obedient to God as Stephen was and the life Paul and Peter lived out. Or simply eschatological because of the time and season (Systematic Theology 1, James Leo Garrett, p. 391, 392).

But what does this mean to me?
What about today?
Which one of these reasons am I suffering?
Can I find answers to my suffering?
And if I can find an answer, or if I cannot, what do I do then?