This has been one of the more difficult blog posts for me to write … in part, because it feels very vulnerable, and in another part because it’s really still “in process.” As Christians, we often understand or at least believe that our faith requires us to “feel” a certain way. And I’m going to talk about one of those times I didn’t “feel” the way I think a “good” Christian should.

I’m really hoping there is someone out there who can relate to this! But whether or not, here goes.

I Realize I Made a Big Mistake

I know that you’re not supposed to handle live bats with your bare hands. Here in the Pacific Northwest, I’m told we are never more than 100 feet away from a bat. And I also know that there are dozens of them (possibly hundreds) living beneath the cedar shingles that form the sides of our home.

I understand the reason it is dangerous to handle them. Bats are primary carriers of the rabies virus (though fewer than one in 100 bats do). If you are scratched or bitten by a rabid bat, the virus can be transmitted to we humans.

There is a treatment, if you get it early (before symptoms begin), but it is fairly complicated and expensive. But rabies is BAD … once symptoms commence (which can be anywhere from a month after exposure, to more than a year), there is virtually a 100% chance that you will die within a week or two.

The rabies virus travels from the site of the infection to the brain, where it causes one of the worst forms of encephalitis known to man. Symptoms start with a fever, headache, nausea and vomiting, and get steadily worse from there. Rabies sufferers become delirious and dehydrated, but their thirst cannot be slated because the brain somehow becomes terrified of water and it is almost impossible to swallow. (Hence, rabies is also referred to as “hydrophobia,” or “water-fear.”)

In animals, the madness of rabies drives them to bite. Most rabies transmissions to humans worldwide are from infected dogs, but bats are the second-highest source of transmission, and most of the rabies cases in the U.S. come from exposure to bats.

In humans, rabies is basically treated with comfort regimen. In other words, heavy-duty drugs are given to keep the sufferer sedated, until they die. I’ve read that only one recorded person in the U.S. has survived rabies, once symptoms began, and that was a young woman who was put into an intentional coma and her body chilled. This bought her enough time to develop the necessary antibodies to survive. But after this, she was in bad shape for the rest of her life, having to re-learn with great difficulty such simple things as how to swallow.

Now, to my mistake: First you need to understand that I have been raising pollywogs in a water cistern on the side of our home. Once they turn into frogs, they release themselves out of the cistern and into the wild wetlands around our house. I like frogs because (like bats) they eat mosquitoes, and also create a pleasant symphony at night. And, I enjoy watching the pollywogs develop.

Pollywogs’ natural food is algae. But once they’ve cleaned all the algae out of the inside of my cistern they need more, so I feed them boiled spinach, and this helps them grow healthy and strong like PopEye.

One day I had introduced a small wad of spinach into the cistern, and a few hours later as I was walking by I was surprised to see it matted and stuck to the side of the cistern, just above the water line. Without thinking much about it, I grabbed it and tossed it back into the water.

And as I did so, I was surprised to hear this “wad of spinach” hiss at me with a strange, buzzing sensation I could feel in my fingers.

Once in the water, the “spinach” transformed into what was clearly a bat. Bad mistake!

The bat flopped around in the water a bit, and in pity I fished it out using a plastic container. It hissed at me as I carried it out into the forest behind our house and placed it on a small platform on the side of a fir tree. It slowly began climbing up the fir tree and was soon gone from sight. But I never saw it attempt to fly.

I wasn’t sure why the bat would be on the side of the cistern in the daytime. Was it attracted to the pollywogs? To mosquito larvae in the water? Was it getting a drink? Or perhaps it was sick? (I’ve read that bats typically aren’t about in the daytime unless they are sick.)

I gave my hands a good washing and inspected them carefully. It hadn’t appeared to have either bitten or scratched me, so I didn’t think much more about it.

Entering the Valley

It was about a week later, and one night I was having a little trouble sleeping. I woke up about 4 a.m. and lay there in bed. Suddenly I began thinking about the bat. And about rabies, and my potential close brush with a fatal disease.

The more I thought about it, the more I felt my anxiety level rising. What if my mistake had cost me my life? What if I did have an undetected infection source of rabies even now rising toward my brain? What if a descent into madness and death was in my near future?

Soon, unable to go back to sleep, I arose and went to my computer and began researching bats and rabies. Normally knowledge helps, but in this case what I read didn’t reduce my anxiety level at all. So, after some time, I logged onto the portal for my medical provider and shared my concerns with my M.D. I asked if he thought I was at risk. I half expected that, out of caution, he would advise me to get the set of rabies vaccinations. But even so, I wondered if it was too late. Earlier in my life (once when I was bitten while trying to rescue a stray bag of kittens someone had thrown off a bluff, and later when I traveled to Africa where rabies is much more prevalent than here in the U.S.) I had been told that if you don’t begin treatment within a day or two, you are at risk for contracting the disease. (Although my research led me to doubt whether that might be an exaggeration.)

The unfortunate kittens were euthanized and determined not to be sick, just hungry. And I never did get the preventive immunizations for my Africa trip, and of course as it turned out I didn’t need them.

My doctor got back to me quickly and reassured me that he didn’t think I had anything to worry about, unless I had indeed been scratched or bitten. Which was reassuring. But over the next few days, I continued to wrestle with the anxious thoughts that had filled my mind with fear during those early morning hours of that day, a week after my incident with the bat, that I had reached out to him.

Fear of Death?

As a believer who knows and trusts the Scriptures, I have to say that I’ve never really experienced an objective “fear of death” — at least in the sense of being afraid of what comes after death. I believe the Bible’s assurance that Christ’s sacrifice for us has dealt a death-blow to death itself. As Scripture says, “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting? But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1 Cor. 15:55,57 NIV)

I also believe (at least, intellectually) that the goodness and love of God is behind even the seemingly bad things that happen to us. A favorite verse is Romans 8:28 … “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” And this has been the experience of my life: even in the things which seemed bad, I’ve experienced God working good in the midst of those things.

But suddenly, here in the darkness of the early morning as my mind was filled with apprehension at thoughts of the possibility of contracting and dying from something as horrific as rabies, those convictions were being rattled like the bars of a tin cage.

It wasn’t that dying in this manner was something that might be likely in my near future, but it was that it was suddenly a possibility. And if that happened, how could a descent into fear, madness and a painful death possibly be considered good?

That thought led to others almost equally distressing. For as I thought on these things more and more, I began to experience a strange sense of shame. Why?

Because I am aware that many other people throughout our world are suffering and perishing in equally horrible ways as the one I was wrestling with. In fact, as we speak, children are dying of starvation amid the fighting and privation of the war in Gaza. Christians (including children) are being slaughtered with bayonets by Islamic militants in northern and eastern Africa. And millions of preborn children throughout the world continue to be torn from their mothers’ wombs, mutilated and killed by the horrific practice of abortion.

How can these things possibly be “for good?”

What Happens As We Walk Through the Valley?

I haven’t arrived at all the answers in the week or so since I’ve been wrestling with these things. But God has been doing some things in me which I’d like to share with you.

Firstly, even if Christ has ultimately crushed the head of the serpent and overcome the specter of death, like Him each and every one of us will still experience a bruised heel. That is to say, we will all die (and then, thankfully, be resurrected to newness of life!). So, how are we to think about our impending deaths?

The psalmist advises us thusly: First, may God grant me a sober and accurate sense of just how short my life truly is. Psalm 39:4 says, “Show me, Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is.” Why would he ask this? I think it is because of our natural tendency to get “too comfortable,” to think and act and feel as if we have all the time in the world, and nothing will ever change. But it’s not true! Scripture compares our lives to a flower which blooms briefly and then is gone (Psalm 103:15-16). Each of us only has so much time, and God alone knows how much that is. I hope I won’t die until I am in my 90s (and pass away peacefully in my sleep as many of my relatives have!), but who knows the future? Tomorrow I may get flattened by a bus. Or worse.

Second, in Psalm 90:12 we are told that we can gain “a heart of wisdom” by learning (from God) how to “number our days.” What does this mean? I think it means we need to get serious and think strategically about how to make the greatest impact for God’s purposes with whatever time we have left, be it long or short.

And this means thinking carefully about how our lives are affecting the people we love, the people around us. If we knew we would die tonight, what would we say to them? How would we share with them what they mean to us, and how thankful we are for how they have made an impact in our lives? How would we want to spend our time serving and blessing others if we knew we only had hours left?

Next, here is something else God has been showing me, even today. And it also comes from a beloved Psalm, Psalm 23. Verse 4 says:

Even though I walk
    through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
    for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me.

God never promises life will be easy. To the contrary, there will be dark valleys! And even in the very darkest valley, one thing is true: He is walking through the suffering with us! Somehow, in the midst of dementia, or cancer, or victimization, or even rabies … or a host of other really dark valleys … God is walking there with us. His “rod and staff” (a shepherd’s instruments of guidance and correction) will be a comfort in these bad places.

In the meantime, I think the final verse of this Psalm, verse 6, puts it all into perspective:

Surely your goodness and love will follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
    forever.

Note the two different perspectives here: “all the days of my life” (long or short) it is a surety that the goodness and love of God will follow me! And second, beyond this life — in fact, “forever” — we have a very bright future in store for us after the dark valley ends: we will dwell “in the house of the Lord” (the very best and most fantastic place in all the universe) forever! What more could you ask for?

I realize I shouldn’t feel bad about being rattled by the possibility of impending suffering. Even Christ Himself, faced with His impending crucifixion, “sweat great drops of blood” as He wrestled with His Father and expressed His desire that the cup of suffering be taken from Him, if at all possible. But Christ also embraced the “big picture” …

For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:2)

Lord, Make Me More Like Kevin

One of the most courageous people I know is my nephew Kevin. At one year of age, he developed a serious, life-threatening cancer of the brain. Kevin endured years of multiple brain surgeries, chemo, and radiation, all of which (other than saving his life) had a detrimental impact on his quality of life. Few medical professionals thought it likely he would survive his first few years. Today, he is over 30 years old and doing well, though he still struggles with chronic and periodic medical problems related to the disease which beset him as a child. (Next month, for instance, he begins radiation for thyroid cancer.)

I’ve always marveled at the way Kevin approaches his health challenges with seeming nonchalance. He enjoys his interactions with a host of doctors, nurses and other medical professionals, and I believe he is a source of hope and encouragement to them. He learns as much as he can about what is happening and shares it in a very objective way with anyone who will listen. He is very outgoing and really loves people. He is generous with his time and other resources. Does he ever get rattled by what he has to go through? Yes, occasionally he gets nervous about it; but mostly it just seems like he “goes with the flow” and lets it roll off of him.

Kevin is a young man who really takes God at His word when He promises He is walking through those dark valleys with us, and that everything we go through “works out for good for those who love God and are called according to His purposes.”

I want to be like Kevin when I grow up.