1 Peter 5:10 says, “After you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen and establish you.”

I’m sure you’ve had that scary question hiding in the shadows if you haven’t already fought with it. Why did God allow Alivia to die? Why did God allow Ian to experience this terrible ordeal? Why would He allow such heartache for the families and close friends? It’s a scary question, because the answer could be that God is either not in control or not kind by nature or not caring enough to notice. I’ve had to do battle with that question by reminding myself of the truth of who God is.

This mushroom grew up in my yard almost overnight, and within a couple of days it was gone again. We’re just as temporary as that mushroom. The right question, then, is the one the Psalmist asks (Psalm 8:4): “what is man that you are mindful of him and the son of man that you care for him?” Why do you care for such a temporary creature when you are eternal and so full of glory that we can’t even comprehend it? Why do you care for creatures who have rebelled against you and gone their own way? Why do you let any of us live at all?

Still, to be honest, the question won’t die. I have to walk away from it with a brash confidence that it won’t take me down and remind myself that I don’t have all the answers. My protection is the truth that God reveals about Himself in His Word. It’s my only hope.

Ian continues to take very small steps toward recovery. It’s good to come home from work, sit down next to him in his wheelchair, and have him turn his head toward me and look right at me. When I think about where he was, it really is amazing to see his progress.

Pray for Ian.

Steve

Ian had a good day yesterday. He smiled in the morning when Frank and I were talking to him about Ben’s dancing at a wedding this weekend. Later is the day he used his voice for me and I didn’t even ask him to. It’s like he just really wanted to say something to me.

Ian has been eating spoonfuls of pudding and baby food – pears mostly. Three times a day Mary feeds him, and he started out slow at first. Now, he’s taking 5 or 6 spoonfuls or more at each “meal.” He swallows relatively quickly, too. Progress.

He’s able to communicate some through blinks, but we have to ask the right questions. Larissa and Mary are better at getting the message than I am. I’m not sure why I don’t get it.

I made a “treatment table” that we’ve been using to help get his balance again and for working him out. He’s been sitting up in his bed working on “trunk control,” but the therapists said it would be better to have a firmer surface and suggested a table like the one I made. It was my 4th of July project.

Steve

Keep working hard, Ian. We’re praying for you.

Each night for so long our daughter Lydia has prayed for Ian, for another friend of hers (Ainsley), and for “Baby Wivvy.” If we missed one of them, she insisted that we pray for them. Sadly, Alivia passed away this afternoon.

Until our experience with Ian, I couldn’t have understood the sadness her parents and grandparents and other family members must feel right now. But, the memories of the sadness we felt those first couple days following his accident haven’t faded. We thought we had lost him, and we thought it was only a matter of moments before the doctor came in with the news of Ian’s departure into heaven. No analogy can capture the intensity of the sadness; no words can express it.

When I got the news this afternooon when I got home from work, I looked straight in Ian’s face and told him again that I loved him. I told him how much I wanted him back.

We’re all praying for Baby Wivvy’s parents and grandparents and family now. I’m praying that they would find rest in the only One who can comfort them.

Steve

Ian really seemed to enjoy the fireworks tonight. Lydia was repeating something over and over like “look at that one, and that one, and that one, etc” and Ian turned his head to look at her with a great expression on his face. It was good to see him awake and really watching what was going on.

I gave a testimony to the kids at youth camp of how God has helped us through this difficult experience. I hope it encourages you. Steve

On Saturday, September 30, 2006, I got the worst phone call of my life. Actually, it was a phone message and not a live person. The caller identified themselves as a social worker at UPMC Presbyterian and said, “Ian Scott Murphy was in a very serious car accident. He’s currently in surgery, and it would be good for relatives to be down here. Please call…”

For a brief period following that phone call fear took hold. But, remarkably, that was the only time I’ve really been able to identify fear in my heart over the last 8 months since the accident. I know myself; no one could convince me that the peace I’ve experienced is anything but the fruit of the Holy Spirit’s transforming grace and the work of His sustaining grace. Over the years as a believer, fear and anxiety have been regular visitors, frequently overstaying their welcome. Don’t misunderstand. They have certainly been a temptation, and grief and weariness have taken turns standing on my chest.

Two days after the accident things looked grim. His brain functions were dying; at one point Ian’s body had failed 3 of the 5 tests for brain death. The doctors had suggested he had hours or perhaps days to live, so we signed the organ donor papers and called a funeral home. But, we were at peace with him going home to be with Christ.

The next day, a doctor we had never met appeared in his scrubs in the waiting room where we were waiting for the news of Ian’s departure into heaven. Unbelievably, this doctor told us that Ian seemed to have gotten over the hump. I said, “I didn’t even know there was a hump for him to get over.” It was so unbelievable we even questioned his credentials – out loud – and he was the medical director for the ICU!

So began a journey down a long, difficult road filled with treacherous twists and turns in Ian’s condition, a fog of grim opinions by the medical staff, and the sounds of our own temptations to fear and unbelief. Scripture says that His Word is a lamp to our feet and a light to our path. The lamps the writers had in mind were oil lamps that literally only lit the few feet in front of them. I found that I had to just focus on the next step in front of me, even the next moment. Every day, it seems, I’ve prayed at some point during the day, “Lord, what do you want me to do next?”

Throughout this journey, I’ve recalled with gratitude so many examples of Ian’s faith and character and of our growing friendship. We’d had so many conversations about sin in his life and in mine and about the kindness of God; I’ve been so grateful for the times of genuine, biblical fellowship. I’ll never forget how grateful I felt when Ian came to me to ask me if I thought he was ready to pursue a relationship with a girl. He had someone in mind, and he came to me before he had approached her about his interest. When I asked why he was interested in this girl (whom I didn’t know), I was grateful to hear woven through his answer how important spiritual conviction and character was to him. Since the accident, I’ve gotten to know even more about Ian’s commitment to Christ as I’ve heard Larissa recount remarks he’d made to her and as I’ve observed her faith and character.

My relationship with Ian wasn’t always so good. Years ago, he wasn’t in a good place spiritually, and there were areas in my parenting where I was negligent. As a result, our relationship wasn’t as strong as it needed to be. There were many times when there was tension between us. I remember the night here at youth camp, though, when Ian came to me after a meeting filled with guilt over his many sins, and I knew the Holy Spirit was at work in his heart. The months and years that followed weren’t smooth sailing, but it was clear that the Holy Spirit was wrestling with him. Eventually, his repentance was genuine and thorough and so was mine. Gradually, as we talked a lot, things improved between us, and following the accident I felt the impact of that progress. I’ve been so grateful.

The biggest surprise on this journey has been the impact of the blog on the lives of so many people. In the beginning, almost 1,000 people a day visited the site. For decades, we’ve prayed for the salvation of so many people or just for opportunities to share the gospel, and the blog has opened up doors. So many who are unsaved have heard the message of the gospel. My son, Ben, said Ian might even have volunteered for this assignment if he had known how it would impact people.

This has been without question the hardest thing we’ve ever experienced. But, I believe the Lord will be faithful again just as he has been so many times in our lives. I believe he will show himself strong and God will be glorified.

Pray for Ian.