Just Breathe

 

I placed my hand on Isaac’s chest, palm directly over his heart, fingers splayed out around his ribs. He responded with a deep inhale. I felt his chest rise and then fall as the long, slow exhale followed. Quietly, I asked, “Do you remember when I held you like this?”

            “Yes.”

            “What were you doing when I held you?”

            “Crying.”

            “Why?”

            “They just take the mask and push it tight on my face.” He shaped his fingers into a little cup over his mouth, and then made a push against his face, holding it there with force.

            “Did it hurt?”

            “No.”

            “Were you scared?”

            “No. They just push it too tight.” He made the pushing motion again.

            “They need to push it tight to help you sleep. Do you remember the silly medicine?”

            “Yes.”

            “The silly medicine will make the mask okay; it won’t bother you.”

            “But it taste gross.”

            “I know. That’s why we let you pick. You can say no silly medicine, but then you might cry with the mask.”

            “No silly medicine.”

            “You are okay when you cry?”

            “Yes.”

 

            That morning the alarm had gone off at 5:15. I stumbled around the room, coming to grips with the task of dressing both silently and in the dark. Peeking out the window, I saw that a few inches of snow had fallen overnight. Nicole was nursing a broken foot and couldn’t chance a slippery surface. I’d have to clear and salt the sidewalk and driveway before leaving. I should have woken earlier. Now there would be no time for coffee and breakfast. There was a release with the realization. Isaac hadn’t eaten since dinner, and likely wouldn’t eat again until Noon. I always feel guilty, waking up before him on these days to eat without him seeing.

 

            Isaac, clad in a miniature purple gown, watched a movie, while a nurse anesthetist ran through a series of questions with me. For those trying to keep Isaac asleep, but alive, the specific details of his cerebral palsy are important. This nurse had never worked with Isaac before. The conversation went longer than usual.

            “Has Isaac ever had issues with anesthesia?”

            “Never.”

            “Has he ever had problems waking up? Nausea?”

            “No.”

            “How many times has he had anesthesia?”

            “Goodness, I’ve lost count. . . for this procedure? Seven, maybe. Overall. . . ten?”

            “How do you think he would do with a pre-med?”

            “He can struggle with the mask, but hates the taste of the pre-med. I’d skip it.”

            “Okay.”

            The nurse made his way to the door, where he met Isaac’s rehab doctor, prompting another conversation. We were there for chemodenervation, or Botox. We were there to destroy the nerves in Isaac’s legs. The anesthetist wanted to know how long it would take. Botox takes minutes, but the rehab doctor would be followed by an orthopedic team, wrapping each leg in a cast following the injections. Isaac’s muscles would be loosened by the loss of nerve cells, his tendons by being casted in a flexed position. In two weeks, the casts would come off. With legs loose and free, Isaac would work through weeks of intense physical therapy, until the effects of the Botox began to fade and the muscles tightened again. He repeats this cycle three to four times a year.

            With the questions asked and paperwork signed, I walked behind the bed as Isaac was wheeled down the hallway and into a room filled with masked figures. A member of the team pulled me aside to run through the plan once more, but our conversation was interrupted by a muted scream, like someone being smothered under a pillow. I looked over and saw tears streaming from Isaac’s terrified eyes, as the mask was pressed against his face. One of the green-clad figures stepped out of the way and offered, “Dad, maybe you want to slide in here.”

            I made my way up alongside of the bed, placed my hand on Isaac’s chest, palm directly over his heart, fingers splayed out around his ribs, and told him, “I’m right here, Buddy. Look at me.” He locked eyes with mine. “Deep breaths, Buddy. Nice and easy.” Under my fingers, I felt him fighting, trying to obey and bring his breathing under control against the panic.

            From behind, someone assured me, “We are in the window of amnesia, Dad. He won’t remember this.”

            I vaguely nodded, but didn’t turn. “In and out, Isaac. Nice and easy.”

            The muted crying faded. The tension in his chest melded into a steady rhythm. His eyes lost contact with mine and began to drift, then rolled up into his head as his body momentarily twitched and jerked. I kissed his forehead, and whispered “I love you.” He was asleep.

More of Nate's reflections on parenting can be found in Just Breathe

A Very Brief Primer on the Questions of Omniscience, Omnipotence, and Immutability

I recently had a conversation with a friend about what it means that God “never changes.” He was raised in the church, but never really talked through these issues. He knew that God is all-knowing (omniscient), all-powerful (omnipotent), and never-changing (immutable); but really, what does that mean? For him, and you, here is a very quick primer on three ways Christians have answered that question.

These are broad overviews of four ways of thinking. They are generalizations, each of which represents a dozen related viewpoints with their own nuances and variations. Before someone jumps in with a “well, actually. . .” If you have that level of study, this piece of writing isn’t for you.

Also, there are many more answers to this question than the three I present here, but I believe these three answers fall well within traditional Christian orthodoxy. There are folks within each view who think all the others are going to Hell, but I let my umbrella provide a little more dry ground than that. And, yes, each view has a dozen or more Bible verses to support it. These are all “biblical.”

Calvinism

Regarding omniscience, Calvinism argues that God knows everything, because he determined everything that would happen in advance. Every moment of every day, every decision, has been decided ahead of time. God knew what you would have for breakfast today before you were born. God knows everything because he has planned everything to work together toward his end goal.

How does this impact omnipotence (all-powerfulness)? God possess all power, he created, directs, and controls everything. He has all power.

How does this impact immutability (unchanging)? God never changes in any way. His character remains the same, always. God never questions himself, never changes his plans, never changes his mind.

How does this impact human free will? Calvinism asserts that humans have free will to make their own decisions, but – I’ll be honest – I’ve never heard a really compelling explanation of how.

 

Arminianism

This view also affirms that God is all-knowing, but rather than dictating every moment and every decision, God’s knowledge extends to every possible outcome of any decision. While he may not know what we will do, he knows what will happen regardless of what we do. Also, while we have the freedom to choose any path, God’s encompassing knowledge often allows him to predict our actions, while still allowing us the freedom to choose.  For example, I know that my son will never ask for pancakes for breakfast, because he hates pancakes; yet, he has the freedom to request pancakes whenever he wants.

To summarize: God’s knowledge extends to every possible outcome of every possible decision, spanning all of time. His power allows him to work with our freedom to direct history towards his final, decided outcome. All paths eventually lead to him, so we are free to take any path we want. God’s character does not change, nor do his plans. He does demonstrate some flexibility in the way his plans are achieved.

Open Theism

Open theism also affirms that God is all-knowing, all-powerful, and unchanging. God possesses knowledge of all that exists and has ever existed. However, the future has not happened yet. It doesn’t exist. It is impossible to know what doesn’t exist. Therefore, at any moment in time, any decision a human faces, there is the possibility that God will be surprised. As in the Arminian view, God knows everything about us. He is often able to predict what we will do in a given moment, but we still have the freedom to choose. More than that, he doesn’t know where this decision will lead us.

Being all-powerful, God is able to respond to our decisions on the fly. He can adjust and adapt his plans to work towards his goals; but we have the power to resist and frustrate those goals. God doesn’t get what he wants all the time. While I don’t fall into the open theist camp, I think this is a compelling answer to the problem of evil and pain. God has a plan for where he wants the world to go, but gives us the freedom to make our own plans. We are invited to work with God to make this world a better place; but allowed to be selfish jerks, and he works with that as well.

This is a dynamic view of God, his character never changes, but his plans are constantly changing. This is a God who has the knowledge and power to adapt to the situation.

 

Throwing Down My Marker

Because some folks in the world can’t read an author without knowing where they stand, I’m in the Arminian camp, with some sympathy for Open Theism. However, I don’t believe this is a salvation critical issue. While I might have strong disagreements with those in other camps, or even within my own camp, these are all members of God’s family.

Conclusion

The picture attached to this post is AI generated. It's a picture of the sun setting over Bryce Canyon. Bryce Canyon faces east. It's impossible. That's what this post is, a discussion of impossibility. It is fun, maybe even important, to discuss the attributes of God, but in doing so we need to remember we are discussing things we can't understand. A seasoning of grace is vital.