A woman’s trust in God’s plan for her is challenged by a difficult-to-diagnose disease. 

Darla Nagel 

I had no hope, no idea what to do now. Why are you letting this happen to me, God?  

I sat on my bed in my college-town apartment and let the tears loose. Holding them in seemed like a poor way to spend the energy I had left.  

I’d just received a brief phone call from my dad. He passed along the results of a sleep study I’d had at the University of Michigan hospital. The sleep technicians had initially had a difficult time assessing my breathing with their equipment. My hopes soared; maybe sleep apnea was the cause of a host of debilitating symptoms I’d developed two years earlier, at age 19. I have been experiencing crushing and gradually worsening physical and cognitive exhaustion. It threatened my pursuit of a degree in English and of a career in publishing, possibly even Christian publishing.  

The news was not good: the sleep study results had been negative. They could not find the cause. 

The darkness 

I can’t take this. How is this going to be good for me? I was thinking of a usually comforting Bible verse framed in my bedroom at home: “For I know the plans I have for you . . . plans to give you hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11). I felt my frustration with the lack of a diagnosis. It began transforming into anger at God. I knew I’d regret that anger later, so I tried a different tack.  

I grabbed the box of tissues out of the bathroom, blew my nose, and grabbed my journal to vent by writing all the questions I wanted answered. My head felt pressurized from trying to control my crying and streaming snot. I asked whether God really was perfect, really cared about me, and really would help me through this. I knew I surely didn’t deserve his help, after all I was doubting and criticizing him.   

For the next two days, anger at God darkened my thoughts. It didn’t seem loving for him to allow me to hope about the sleep study and then not to give me any idea about where I should go to find a diagnosis. I feared that I’d never know what was wrong and end up bedridden.  

While walking through God’s beautiful autumn creation and gazing at it from the fourth floor of the college library reassured me of his perfection and power, I wasn’t sure about his love. The love of Jesus in redeeming me was forgotten. If he didn’t love me, I was heading for disaster in this life and in eternity. If a perfectly wise and powerful God wouldn’t make a good plan for me, how could I make one with my limited intelligence and strength? That would be harder than assembling a puzzle while its picture was still being painted.  

I didn’t share what I was wondering about with anyone because this situation seemed between just God and me. But as hours passed, I sank into despair at the thought of handling life with a chronic illness.  

The light  

I sat on my bed that Saturday evening, gazing at the greasy-haired, frowning girl in the mirrored sliding doors of the closet because I couldn’t do anything productive. Then it hit me—or God hit me with it. Jesus loves this girl in the mirror. If I couldn’t trust him, I couldn’t trust anyone or anything.  

So I needed to trust him. I’d have nothing at all if I didn’t have him. My burden was too much for my family and me to bear alone. It was clear that I’d fallen into an inaccurate, negative thought pattern. Just because I thought that I’d never have a diagnosis and that no treatment option would succeed didn’t make either true.  

After a few more days and many prayers, I decided not to give up and decided to get a referral to Cleveland or Mayo Clinic. I scheduled an appointment with my primary care physician to get that referral.  

The day of the appointment, my 22nd birthday, my prayers and my family’s prayers for a diagnosis were answered. My doctor diagnosed me with the illness that deep down I’d suspected I had. Having a name sparked a surprisingly bright light of relief, given the condition’s unpredictable prognosis. I have a multisystem disease that has no cure, no Food and Drug Administration–approved treatment, and about a dozen recognized specialists for more than a million patients nationwide: myalgic encephalomyelitis (pronounced my-ALL-jick en-SEEPH-uh-lo-MY-eh-light-is.). It’s also called by the wimpy name “chronic fatigue syndrome.”  

Light shared 

I continued my college studies, trying treatment after treatment that failed or even intensified some of my symptoms. As my physical health worsened, my mom’s spiritual health also worsened. 

One day two weeks before my graduation, she saw me suddenly sit down in exhaustion. She sat down next to me and said, “I’ve prayed and prayed about you, but God doesn’t do anything. A perfect God wouldn’t do this to you.” She seemed to forget about Jesus too. 

Mom had brought me up in the Lutheran faith and for two years had been my Sunday school teacher. To hear her doubt God’s perfection was worrisome and shocking enough to keep my brain from generating a response—until I remembered doubting God after hearing the sleep study results. Then I knew what I could say that might help her. 

“There was a time when I doubted that God loved me,” I began. “I finally realized that if I can’t trust him, I can’t trust anything or anyone. I’d have nothing at all if I didn’t have God. Life would be completely pointless and hopeless.”  

Mom sighed. “I suppose.” 

At a time when my disease often scrambled my words or made my mind go blank when I needed to make a decision or a response promptly, the words my mom needed flowed. The words and the delivery maybe weren’t perfect, but both were guided from above.  

I didn’t know that many dark days were yet to come—days when I couldn’t stand up unassisted to greet my parents when they came home from work. We waited and prayed for a brighter future. 

Six years have now passed since I shared my epiphany with my mom. I have the blessings of a job that uses my English degree, a Christian myalgic encephalomyelitis specialist within driving distance, and an inexpensive off-label drug that completely lifts the fog of my cognitive exhaustion and somewhat lightens the physical exhaustion.  

Shadows remain: The job could be lost, the specialist could retire, and the drug could stop working. There’s nothing like illness to remind us of the imperfections of our bodies and nothing like doubt to remind us of the imperfections of our understanding of God. I still face the darkness of an uncertain future with my chronic illness, but I trust that my Lord not only holds but also is the light my family and I need. 

Darla Nagel is a member at Emanuel, Flint, Michigan.

This article is adapted from Nagel’s memoir, Lightening the Shadow: Diagnosing and Living with an Invisible Chronic Illness.

Author: Darla Nagel
Volume 105, Number 12
Issue: December 2018

Copyrighted by WELS Forward in Christ © 2021
Forward in Christ grants permission for any original article (not a reprint) to be printed for use in a WELS church, school, or organization, provided that it is distributed free and indicate Forward in Christ as the source. Images may not be reproduced except in the context of its article. Contact us

Christmas can be a dark time. We need to share the light of Jesus so all can see what their Savior has done for them. 

Nathan W. Strutz 

Christmas. The day is supposed to be filled with such happiness. Who doesn’t love gathering with family? Who doesn’t love seeing a tree with presents that fill the living room?  

A time of darkness 

Maybe you don’t. Maybe your family is not a happy gathering. Grandma’s place at the table is dark because Grandma isn’t there anymore. Your nephew Jimmy will be there, but not with the wife and kids after their recent divorce. Uncle Joe hasn’t come in years, because he’s been estranged so long. Maybe there isn’t a room full of presents. 

Instead there’s a heart full of fear, a darkness that there won’t be enough money to pay the bills. Maybe the lights don’t brighten your heart because all you can see is darkness. 

Sadness spikes in the winter time. Suicide rates go up around the holidays.  

Too many think, I’m supposed to be so happy, but I’m not. I’ve done my share to make the family gatherings awkward or haven’t done anything to reach out to Uncle Joe. Maybe it’s my fault. I could have worked harder and been nicer to the boss. Then money wouldn’t be so tight. If I had just made better choices, just worked a little harder at being happy, I could really enjoy Christmas. 

Jesus is the light 

There is hope. Jesus is the light for that darkness, especially at Christmas. He said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). 

Jesus brings light to lighten your eyes beyond your earthly troubles. Jesus loved you so much he made you part of his perfect family. The holy God is your Father, loving you so much he sent his Son into a manger, to a cross, to rise from the dead to give you the light of life. Jesus is your perfect brother, the brother who took all the blame for all your sins. What other brother would do that? Jesus did! Jesus, our perfect brother, piled all the darkness for all the guilt of everyone on himself. That means your guilt is gone. Your darkness has become light. 

Jesus provided your greatest need: forgiveness. Jesus will take care of all your other needs as well. 

Jesus has given you a heavenly mansion, monogrammed with your initials, already waiting for you. He signed it with his blood, sealed it with his empty tomb, and delivers it to you in water and his Word, “You are baptized! You are my child!” 

We must share the light 

This light needs to be shared. Just as the shepherds shared it on the first Christmas, just as a parent or friend shared the light with you, so you get to share this light with others. Who wouldn’t like to hear, “Your guilt is gone!”? Who wouldn’t love to hear, “Your sins are forgiven!”?  

We’ve set a goal as a church body to reach one million people this Christmas with the good news of great joy that is for all the people: A Savior has been born to you; he is Christ, the Lord. One million sounds like a lot of people. But 35,000 people get this magazine. They—you—are today’s shepherds. I encourage all of you to do what the shepherds at Bethlehem did: “Spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child” (Luke 2:17). If each one of you would share the light of Jesus with 10 neighbors, friends, or relatives, we would be on our way to reaching one million.  

What a merry Christmas that would be!

Nathan Strutz is pastor at Resurrection, Verona, Wisconsin. 

Learn more about the goal to reach one million people with the gospel message this Christmas at wels.net/c18. 

Author: Nathan Strutz
Volume 105, Number 12
Issue: December 2018

Copyrighted by WELS Forward in Christ © 2021
Forward in Christ grants permission for any original article (not a reprint) to be printed for use in a WELS church, school, or organization, provided that it is distributed free and indicate Forward in Christ as the source. Images may not be reproduced except in the context of its article. Contact us

Memory, strength, and balance all fade slowly as we age, but one things remains: Jesus’ love. 

Eric S. Hartzell 

On Saturday afternoons, we visit some people in our town of Globe, Arizona, who don’t know their own names anymore. Their minds and their memories are going away.  

These people stay in one of several homes that take care of those who can’t remember their names and have other related ailments and afflictions. When they are taken to those homes, everyone knows that the chances are good that they won’t get well and they won’t go home again. They have a room where they stay, and many of them have a roommate. They move carefully around the hallways in their wheelchairs, or they walk slowly and uncertainly with walkers. 

A song for all ages 

Even though they may have trouble remembering their names, there is something that many of them do remember. They remember the words of the song “Jesus Loves Me.” They gather with us in little informal groups by the nurses’ station or in the gathering place of the facility where, in our case most of the time, the TV is mercifully silenced. Business is going on as usual, but something wonderful happens when the song begins. Listless eyes look up. Lips start to form words. Smiles sneak across features that were blank. And sometimes down the hallway you can see people in their wheelchairs backing out of their rooms, looking our way because they hear the sound of that song. 

We just sing the first verse of the song. That’s the one everyone knows: 

Jesus loves me, this I know,
For the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to him belong;
They are weak, but he is strong.  

Then we sing the refrain:

Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
The Bible tells me so. 

Anna B. Warner wrote the words of the song around 1860. She wrote her song for children, and maybe that’s why we like to sing it so much on Saturday afternoons. Its friendly familiarity is a comfort when the world around us gets foreign and strange—and when we forget who we are and where we are.  

Jesus tells us all that unless we believe like little children we won’t enter the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 18:3). In these places where these dear people are, they don’t need any “big or famous” people in the room or erudite people or clever, sharp people with intellectual acumen. We are all just children singing that Jesus loves us! We are certain of that fact because the Bible has told it to us.  

Our mothers taught us to sing this song when we were little. All those years ago things were different, but this one fact wasn’t and isn’t: We know that Jesus loves us. Even in the places I would not choose to go, my Jesus loves me! There is no disconnect between the place where I am and Jesus loving me. Even though my memory is going, this much I know: Jesus loves me! You can’t sing that song and not believe and know that Jesus loves you, regardless of what has happened to you or to your memory. The Bible tells you and me so, and we know it. Our singing right now is proof that we know it.  

A song for parents and children 

It is possible to visit your own mother in one of these care facilities and realize that she doesn’t know you anymore. She who gave you your name all those years ago doesn’t remember your name anymore. On her bad days, she doesn’t even know her own name anymore. But try singing “Jesus Loves Me” to her just as she perhaps sang it to you and see what happens. Maybe her eyes will tell you what happens!  

Perhaps someday you and I may not know our names anymore—it may come to that. But if we know that Jesus loves us, we know a great deal indeed! We know everything needful. There is nothing better for anyone anywhere to know! Nor is there anything better to share with a parent. 

Sing “Jesus Loves Me” to your father if he is having trouble with his memory. Sing it even if he isn’t! Your strong father, who may not be strong anymore, will be happy when he hears that even fathers can be weak because Jesus is strong. The song is for children and the song is for all those who are weak physically and mentally, yet still children of God.  

Because it really isn’t about their weakness that they sing but about Jesus’ strength. Jesus is strong! Old age whittles away at a father’s perception of himself. He isn’t happy when he looks into a mirror and when he sees his hands shake and his voice quiver. But your father can smile and sing when he knows he is weak because his Jesus is strong. It is good for the former proud and strong father to see himself childly weak and to realize that it really is Jesus who is strong in his life and in the lives of his family. What greater legacy can a man give his children or his grandchildren than that they heard him singing “Jesus Loves Me.”  

So sing the song to him there in his room. Don’t be embarrassed to have passersby or visitors hear you singing. The work staff will be there too, maybe prowling around in the cupboard of the nurses’ station when you sing. You’ll even sometimes see these people who can’t help but eavesdrop mouthing the words and singing along. And sometimes you will see them smile and nod too. 

One more thing we do on Saturday afternoons is read Psalm 23. We ask everyone who would like to join us to do so. It is surprising how many people know the words, even if they say them in King James English. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” And just listen as we get near the end of the psalm, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.” 

This leads us to sing one more song: 

I am Jesus’ little lamb;
Ever glad at heart I am.
For my shepherd gently guides me,
Knows my needs and well provides me.
Loves me ev’ry day the same.
Even calls me by my name (Christian Worship 432:1). 

Eric Hartzell is pastor at St. Peter, Globe, Arizona. 

Author: Eric S. Hartzell
Volume 105, Number 11
Issue: November 2018

Copyrighted by WELS Forward in Christ © 2021
Forward in Christ grants permission for any original article (not a reprint) to be printed for use in a WELS church, school, or organization, provided that it is distributed free and indicate Forward in Christ as the source. Images may not be reproduced except in the context of its article. Contact us

God gives the sword to take human life. He also provides forgiveness and comfort to those troubled by the power he gives. 

Paul C. Ziemer 

The e-mail read, “I think I am losing my soul.” 

It came from a member of one of the very elite groups within the U.S. Armed Forces at the height of combat operations in the Middle East. And it came from a new Christian. 

“I am too good at killing.” 

He had lived apart from God until war had made him face the very real possibility of death. Now he was facing the reality that he was very good at killing others. 

During his second deployment, a buddy shared e-mail devotions with him that were sent out by WELS Military Services. When he returned, he and his wife sought out the WELS congregation near his home. They were welcomed by wives who knew what it was like to send loved ones into harm’s way—and husbands who knew the burden of killing. 

But most of all, they were welcomed by their Savior, and they knew it. 

The warrior eagerly embraced the message of forgiveness in Jesus and adoption into his family. Another person might have used the expression, “I found faith,” or “I found God.” He said, “I found my soul.” 

When his unit was deployed again, he went with the words of “Onward, Christian Soldiers” singing in his heart. Then the music stopped. He was a highly decorated warrior, one of the best of the best. He knew what his superiors thought of him. They praised him. But now, as a Christian, he began to wonder what his God thought of him. 

Thus the words, “I think I am losing my soul. I am too good at killing.” 

Then he did the unheard of. He asked to be removed from combat situations. His primary purpose in life had been to defend his country by killing its enemies. Now he lived to serve his Savior faithfully. He did not think he could do both. 

Surprisingly, he was not rebuked for taking this step. He returned stateside as a hero and rewarded with some choice assignments.  

He was at peace—until further soul-searching found a guilty conscience. In his words, “It burned my heart to think that I was safely in America living the good life, while my battle buddies were still fighting for their lives in the war zone.” 

He returned to war with the confidence that he was serving the Lord by defending his country. He had studied through the Bible passages that declared that God had instituted the government to protect its citizens. He knew that St. Paul had written that the ruling powers did not hold the sword in vain (Romans 13). He understood that today’s warriors are given automatic weapons instead of swords.  

“I know I belong here!” he wrote. “If I die here, Chaplain, I know I will see you in heaven.” 

“Why has God turned his back on these people?”  

Once again, his soul was at peace—until something happened that made him question the love of God. 

“Why has God turned his back on these people?” he asked in anguish. Then he explained why his soul was tormented. 

“On my last patrol, a young woman ran up to me and begged for my help. Her nose and ears had been cut off. She said this was done by the man her parents had given her to as a bride. His excuse was that she had not obeyed him well enough. 

“When she turned to her parents for help, they told her she deserved what happened. She needed to obey more quickly. The village elders told her the same thing. 

“When she saw my patrol walking with the American flag patch on, she ran up, grabbed my arm, and wouldn’t let go.”  

He had seen other sad sights in this turbulent country. It had made him shake his head and wonder how these people could live this way. Now he was wondering how God could allow it. 

Once again, the warrior was searching for his soul. He was asking the question, “Does God not care about these people?” 

The answer he received from me was the assurance that the love of God is not limited, and though there have been times in history when he rejected a nation, he had not yet done it to this one. 

“Alan, you are living proof of his love for these people who still do not acknowledge him as Lord! He sent you to be there for this woman in need. Your patrol was his rescue squad. You are not there only to take lives but also to save lives. Now you know one of the reasons you were led to return to this dangerous and desperate land. You came not just as an American. You are there as a servant of the God of grace and glory to carry out his work.” 

“He is the one your soul is searching for!” 

When Baptism brought us into the kingdom of God as infants, we grew up with the Holy Spirit within our soul. As we aged, questions grew within us. Sometimes we wondered about the ways of God, and sometimes we questioned them. 

But many of us knew that we already had the answers. Loving Christian relatives and teachers had given us answers even before we began to ask the questions. We merely needed to remember what we already knew. 

We are an answered people. We know where to look for even more answers. 

Those who come to saving faith as an adult begin with a backlog of unanswered questions. Most don’t yet know those wonderful Bible stories and probably have memorized few of the Bible verses we treasure. Those who have not yet come to faith are in greater need—even if they don’t know it. 

That’s where we come in.  

We might not be on patrol with an American uniform, but we are in the Armed Forces of our God. We have been recruited, trained, and deployed to a place that we describe with the words, “I’m but a stranger here, heaven is my home” (Christian Worship 417). 

We see the misery and trouble of the people who pass through our lives. We want to offer them the freedom we have and the heavenly citizenship we own. But often it seems there is little we can do, and few of them want our help. 

But they are watching us. Our faith is the uniform we wear. It makes some wonder if they could be like us. 

They might be afraid to ask. They may be worried about the reactions of relatives and friends if they reach out to us. Yet, some of them will take that risk. 

The Savior God has not turned his back on the people with whom we mingle. He knows the needs of their souls. He knows us. He has sent us out into this world as his representatives. 

When he leads people to cross our path, we will do what Alan did. We will offer them the protection of the Commander that we serve and of the angels under his command. We will point them to Jesus.  

We will tell them, “He is the one your soul is searching for!” 

Paul Ziemer, a retired pastor who serves as the National Civilian Chaplain for the WELS Military Services Committee, is a member at Abiding Faith, Cape Coral, Florida. 

WELS Military Services offers spiritual resources for those in the Armed Forces. Sign up at wels.net/refer. 

Author: Paul C. Ziemer
Volume 105, Number 11
Issue: November 2018

Copyrighted by WELS Forward in Christ © 2021
Forward in Christ grants permission for any original article (not a reprint) to be printed for use in a WELS church, school, or organization, provided that it is distributed free and indicate Forward in Christ as the source. Images may not be reproduced except in the context of its article. Contact us