Reasons: Part II

“Ah! What did I tell you? 88 miles per hour! The temporal displacement occurred exactly 1:20 a.m. and zero seconds!” ~Doc Brown

We’re back. It’s 1987 (cue the Bangles - Walk Like An Egyptian). I’m twelve. I’m into U2 and other rock bands my parents didn’t like me listening to on my Sony FM/AM Walkman. I kind of like girls, but I don’t know how to talk to the girls I like. I’m active; I spend a lot of time outside with friends. I usually ride my black and gold BMX bike wherever I go. I play pick-up games of flag football, half-court basketball, softball, volleyball and love to hike in the eighty plus acres of woods near our house.

Today, to my shock and horror, I have a corn on my foot. It may seem trivial or even silly, but to this active preteen, this is as close to death as I have ever gotten (well, maybe second to talking to girls). I hobble around for several days waiting for it to go away. A few days later at a weekly bible study my family went to, there was prayer time for any needs. Slightly embarrassed, I asked to be prayed for. The Bible study leader placed his hand on my foot and everyone prayed that God would heal it and that the corn would fall off that night. I went about the rest of the evening not thinking about it while I hung out with my friends playing Frogger and Asteroids and eating copious amounts of Wisconsin cheese. As I was going to bed, I took my socks off, and to my delighted surprise, the corn fell off! Coincidence? Maybe, but I don’t think so. I don’t believe God is a Christian’s personal genie in a bottle, and things are not always rainbows and unicorns, yet I believe nothing is too insignificant for God's concern in my life (and yours too).

To complete this thread in my story, we will take one last trip with ‘ol Doc Brown. This time we head to 1996. I’m now twenty-one and I work two jobs, at Toys Я Us and at Radiant Book & Music Center selling music. My job at Toys Я Us requires me to re-stock the floor inventory. This afternoon, I am in charge of overstocks for the “boys” section. I will have to lift heavy boxes and place them on the shelves eight to ten feet above the aisles. As I’m carrying a box of remote controlled cars up the ladder on my shoulder, I almost lose my balance and jerk to catch myself. After putting the box on the shelf, I can barely make it down the ladder. I had thrown out my back.

I finish work and head home in severe pain. When I get home I decide to sit down and relax my back until I feel better. However, as I sit down I discover that I can’t move and I can’t stand back up. Trying to do so sends sharp pain from my lower back to the base of my neck. Ten minutes or so later, one of my four roommates, Eddie, arrives home. Right when he walks in, he can tell something is very wrong. It’s written all over my face, as they say. I tell him what had happened, and he immediately placed his hands on my back and begins to pray. He simply, but confidently prays that God would heal my back. Almost immediately, the pain slowly starts to leave, and within fifteen minutes it’s absent altogether.

We jump in time to four months later. Today I’m working my second job at Radiant. I love it. I get to listen to music, talk to people about music and sell music. I love music. At this moment, I’m getting ready to stock the shelves with a newly arrived shipment of CD's and cassette tapes (yes, actual cassettes). As I move a large box, it slips out of my hand. I jerk to catch my balance and once again throw out my back. In severe pain once again, I have to leave work early. I spend the rest of the afternoon uncomfortably in pain. I try ice, I try heat, sitting, standing, lying down, nothing brings relief. Evening comes and I head to the weekly young adult service at my church. I can barely keep focused because of the pain. Near the end of our time together, I ask my friends to pray for me. Without hesitation, they gather around and ask God to relive the pain, and by the end of the prayer time, the pain was completely gone.

I believe God is real. I believe He is capable of anything. Many in this day and age don’t. Many think belief in God is a fool’s errand; a delusion to placate some deep seated fear or an unwillingness to face reality, a concoction of men to control the masses. I believe that to disavow what has happened in my life as evidence of God or to chalk it up to coincidence is foolish. But, I cannot convince anyone of that. I can’t explain how or why God chose to heal me when He did. I can tell you that I believe He is willing to meet each human being on this planet where they are, in the middle of any pain, because He cares for us (John 3:16-18, 1 Peter 5:7, Matthew 10:28-30, Psalm 103:13-14).

I will never doubt the power of God. He has proved it to me time and time again. If we have the faith, He can move mountains. (Matthew 17:20) Nothing is too great or too small for Him to do. Nothing.

Further reading on prayer: Philippians 4:6-7, James 5:13-18, Mark 11:22-25, Matthew 6:5-15, Psalm 17:6

Reasons: Part I

Lets take a ride in the DeLorean and go back to June 24, 1975. We arrive in front of Sherman Hospital in Elgin, IL at 9:50pm as my parents, Robert and Paula Shreckhise, welcome me into the world. This beautiful moment is dampened by the news that I was born with an inguinal hernia. This is a kind of hernia that sometimes happens during delivery, most common with premature babies (which I was not). Over the following months, every time I had a fever, the area around the torn tissue would swell and fill with water. Sometimes the swelling would be so bad the skin would become almost transparent. The doctor told my parents that if the tear didn't heal by the time that I was eighteen months old, I would need to have surgery to repair it. Great Scott! The thought of having a procedure done on me at such a young age, and the expense it would incur, worried my parents to say the least.

At the time I was around eighteen months old, my dad was enrolled at Trinity Bible College in Ellendale, North Dakota. I had become sick and the area was once again swollen. The thought of surgery weighed on my dad’s mind. That week they were having a series of special services in the college chapel. My dad asked that those present pray for me, and they did. Within an hour after coming home from the service, my swelling had gone down. Within a week it was completely gone. It never came back. My parents’ prayers were answered. I know what you’re thinking - this is heavy… but weight has nothing to do with it.

Program the Time Departure Circuits to 1981 and we’ll head… back to the future! I am now six years old. My family is getting ready to move to Wisconsin, where my dad has taken a job as senior pastor of a small town church. He had to travel from our home in Illinois for several weekends to preach there before we moved. On one such weekend, I had a cold when my dad left. He returns to find me very sick. Since he left, I had rapidly gotten worse. I had a fever that was spiking, my left eye was swollen shut, I was delirious, irritable and I had a rash all over my body. My mom and grandma didn't realize how ill I was. They thought my demeanor was ordinary crankiness from having a cold. I was immediately taken to the doctor and within the hour, I was admitted into the hospital and put into isolation. It was serious.

Tests discovered I had a virus that had invaded my eye socket through my sinus cavity. The virus was heading toward my optic nerve and the doctors feared that from there, it could enter my brain. This was very dangerous, potentially fatal. The virus had also gotten into my blood steam, which caused my rash. They didn't have time to try to figure out what had caused it; they had to treat it swiftly before it spread. I was quickly put on three different antibiotics. Two of them were on a constant drip. One of them was only given to me every four hours because it burned the lining of my veins. I still remember that discomfort.

The first afternoon that I was in the hospital, a pediatric surgeon advised surgery. Squeamish warning: he wanted to take my eyeball out of its socket to clean out the infection by hand. Our family doctor advised my parents to wait and let the antibiotics have a chance to work. My parents were faced with a difficult decision.

They decided to wait and pray. They also called the church and they began to pray. My dad spent that first, very long night by my bedside praying. Morning came and with it, hopeful news. My fever was almost gone, the swelling in my eye had gone down and I was sleeping peacefully!

I spent a week in the hospital and was on antibiotics for a total of fifteen days. To this day, I can’t stand the flavor of artificial strawberry thanks to children’s penicillin. During my recovery, I remember watching a lot of Sesame Street and Electric Company (my favorite part was Spider-Man), I remember not liking the hospital food except for the Jell-O, and, I remember the innumerable people from the church that came by to pray for me. Along with my parents, they had faith that God would be there, and without a doubt, He was. Though I didn’t really understand all that was going on with me physically, I knew that others were praying for me and their faith in God and their dedication to the practice of prayer was a tremendous example to me.


These are just two of the experiences that have helped form my belief in God, but there are many others. If you think these are intriguing, stay tuned, my journey has had many unexpected stops along the way.

See you next time, same bat time, same bat channel…