On Sparrows and Serenity
They flit around the feeder, sometimes six of them. I smile watching them peck at the seed and each other. They stake their claim and will broach no trespassers. It is as if they doubt a continued food supply. I wonder, “Don’t they realize I have a twenty-pound bag of seed—a vast supply—and that another bird or two won’t diminish their provision?”
They don’t. How could they?
Regardless of their ignorance I resupply the feeder daily.
I wonder if God doesn’t occasionally smile at my tiny efforts to maintain control and to stake my territory in life and ministry. Does He shake His head and ask, “Doesn’t David know I desire the best for him and will provide his needs?”
Unlike the birds around my feeder, I know who provides for me. At least intellectually. Yet, Biblical knowing is more than the accumulation of facts and memorized verses. It is relational intimacy and growing trust that God will indeed change me into the person He wants me to be.
One of the interesting words in Scripture is to know or knowledge. I have grown accustomed in my information-based society (and academic world) to view knowledge as acquiring facts.
And yet the Bible has a much more expansive understanding of knowledge. For in biblical use, knowledge is an experiential relationship. It is not just knowing the mechanics of changing the car to a tire on a vehicle. It is the experiential ability. The longer I continue in my spiritual journey the less dramatic the progress becomes and at times I wonder how much progress I am actually making. Is my relational knowledge of God growing?
In 2025, God gave me a glimpse of the current state of my spiritual development. In preparation for my annual physical test results showed I had a urinary tract infection, the third in 12 months. Initially I considered it part of the aging process and took the antibiotic. But my wonderful wife, upon learning this, suggested I speak to my urologist at my upcoming visit. If there is a miracle in these circumstances, it is that I took her advice and I did!
My urologist seemed unconcerned. “It’s probably nothing, but let’s run some tests to rule out anything organic.” That was fine with me. I took the tests. It did NOT rule out anything organic.
The first test revealed I had two spots (masses) one in my bladder and one in my urethra. The CT scan found a third spot on my kidney. My doctor didn’t use the word—cancer—he didn’t need to. It was the unspoken elephant in the room. He scheduled surgery for the bladder and a referral for the kidney procedure.
I sat with the news: A potential, and from the doctor’s demeanor a probable, cancer diagnosis. I felt oddly calm. Enough so, it was as if I stood on the other side of the room observing myself and asking, “David, you're facing multiple surgeries. Why aren’t you freaking out?” A few days later similar thoughts came. “How can you sleep so well? Why aren’t you worrying and obsessing over the future?”
From a year’s distance I can ponder my situation. Twice before in my life in 1985 and 1999, I faced crises which potentially could have ended my ministry and my marriage. God brought me through them not just to survive, but to become more reliant on His grace. And it dawned on me that I knew, really knew, that God works everything out for my good. And that I could trust him.
I experienced an ongoing peace, which continued through the process of meeting the kidney surgeon at a teaching hospital. Melodie was unable to accompany me to the consultation, so my son sat beside me as a second set of ears. The surgeon explained that the spot on my kidney could be one of two cancers; either the same as the bladder/urethra or a kidney cancer. If it was the same as my bladder then that would indicate the cancer migrated from the kidney and the kidney would have to be removed.
Internally I shrugged. “Good thing God created me with two kidneys.” Apparently, my son engaged in worrying for me. He requested urgent prayer from his church family that I have kidney and not bladder cancer. (I wouldn’t find this out until well after my surgery.) I find it ironic that my son prayed I have another type of cancer.
In May, my doctor performed the bladder/urethra surgery on an out-patient basis and I returned home the same day. A few days later, the doctor called me with the good news that the cancer was surface and we’d removed it early. I needed neither chemo or radiation follow-up treatments.
I should have felt greater relief but I had my kidney surgery set for July 1. I wasn’t out of the woods yet and I felt good enough to attend the Central Region Tri-ennial convention in June. At the convention I found it odd that people seemed surprised I was there and expressed greater concern at my upcoming surgery than I did. They even “ambushed” me when I attempted to leave the minister’s breakfast (I had a business committee meeting to attend), pulled a chair out, sat me down, and prayed for me.
My kidney surgery was a little more extensive than the bladder and required an over-night stay at the hospital. Once home I felt comfortable only when I lay flat on my back. Then the call. They’d removed it all. It was surface and I, like with my bladder surgery, I needed no follow-up treatments. The doctors would simply need to monitor me for any recurrence.
Once again, I experienced a quasi-out-of-body experience, as if I was sitting across the room again. This time I asked, “David, you just received wonderful news. Why aren’t bouncing off the walls? You should be ecstatic!” The peace I’d experience since finding I had another UTI, throughout the tests and surgery remained post-surgery.
For as long as I can remember I’ve known Philippians 4:7 “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (NIV). My response to my cancer diagnosis and treatment was not something I generated by forethought and determination. God’s peace operated in me doing what I could not do by myself. Today I know, experientially know, the truth of Philippians 4:7. I may not understand it, but I value the lesson as a gift from God.
And it is a confirmation that God is as work in my life. What I've come to see is that I experienced the peace of God which passes any ability of me to comprehend. Indeed, the only way to experience God’s supernatural peace is to through turmoil in my life.
I am grateful for this lesson. It confirms much of the truth I’ve believed and confirmed God’s ability to keep the life I have entrusted to Him until the day of Christ’s return.
Maranatha!