Miracle Out of the Mud. Cleon Dewey
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the outcome be?
A restless nap in the recliner did not take away the familiar heaviness of heart. I desired so much for God to show me what to do about the chemotherapy and radiation treatments. I was ticked-off at HIM for being silent.
Have you ever been in that predicament? You may as well admit it. The Lord already knows all about it.
Deep inside, I longed for a marvelous testimony of healing that would knock the socks off the entire medical community in Nashville and beyond. Some of my conversations with the Lord were somewhat comical.
God, You are really missing a golden opportunity to be lifted up in this town. Don’t You know that I’m running out of time?
What a merciful God, so tenderly mindful of those human anxieties and frailties.
As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust. (Psalm 103:13 & 14 - Amplified)
The ringing of the telephone interrupted my restless thoughts. On the other end of the line were our good friends, Missionaries David and Doris Godwin. These seasoned soldiers were in Mexico for another crusade. Their son, Don, had once traveled with us and played the bass guitar in our band. Our history went way back.
News of my battle with cancer had reached Mexico. We spoke briefly about the “three-month death sentence.” It was odd, hearing those words come out of my mouth for the first time. We exchanged the normal niceties and I thanked them for taking time to make the call.
Then, David said, “Wait just a minute. Before we hang up, let’s pray. But first, I have a little story to tell you. We believe God is going to heal you, but you may not like the way He does it this time.”
Oh David! You could have left out that part about not liking the way God “does it this time.”
He continued, “In the ninth book of John there’s an interesting story of a blind man. Jesus could have healed him on the spot, but He didn’t. Instead, the Lord spat on the ground and made some mud. Then he anointed the man’s eyes with the mud and sent him to the pool. I can’t tell you why it happened that way. Wish I could. In the end, he got his sight and God was glorified.”
David and Doris prayed a short prayer and the conversation ended.
There I was in Nashville, sitting in my chair with my Bible opened to that very scripture. The phone call was not mere coincidence; David’s reference to John 9 was a divine appointment. God spoke to me in an unexpected way. Oh yes, He heard my cry. By His mercy, He prompted someone in Mexico to call. Doesn’t God often surprise us in the way our prayers are answered? Indeed, the answer to my question became obvious. It was time to be still and listen.
How could I be ticked at such an awesome God? I would no longer question the timing of the Creator of the Universe. But still, there were things about the actual story that I wanted to know. What was the significance of the mud? Revelation gradually dawned in my clouded spirit. The understanding that God gave was profound and undeniable.
Mud was all the messy stuff I did not want to encounter. It was the cancer, the inconvenience, the treatments, the pain, even the mocking humiliation. The obvious losses and those yet to be suffered were part of the mud. Deeper insight would come in due time; nevertheless, it was already shining like Heavenly sunshine on the mud of my confusion. The darkened corners of my spirit were growing brighter, and the scriptures that were written thousands of years ago were illumining my soul. The mud was not a dark mystery anymore. Absolutely not! I was created from mud. I had even been protected by mud. The mud of life was all around me. Better still, the mud no longer frightened me. The washing of the Word cleanses it every time. Mud kills only when one stops moving through it. I would never give up and allow it to overwhelm me. I made a conscious decision to embrace the mud.
Insight about the mud was right on time. It was revealed to me by the phone call and the way God spoke to me earlier that day through His Word. Most of all, I was enveloped by the sweetest peace I have ever known. I surrendered to His will, although it meant going through chemotherapy and radiation. Nothing had changed, except my obedience.
When standing at the crossroads, seek the will of God. No one can tell another individual how to respond to chronic illness. I don’t give advice. My desire is to simply offer hope...and faith. Hope and faith supersede medical science. God is not limited by medicine, nor is He dependent upon it.
I finally understood what the mud was all about. My decision was to go forward with treatments in peace and reclaimed assurance. All He required of me was obedience.
When Levoy returned home, he found his wife with a new mindset. My first words were, “I’m ready to get started on those treatments.”
His jaw dropped in total disbelief. He had a question: “What in the world happened to you?"
I detailed the fascinating scenario about the phone call from the Godwin’s and about my Bible being opened to the exact chapter. I also confessed my frustration with waiting on God.
Quickly, before I could rethink, I dialed the number. “Hello, my name is Nelva C. Dewey. You guys load up your biggest guns. I’m ready now.”
I thanked God for the telephone call that reminded me of a man called Jesus and a miracle that involved some mud. Jesus reached into the mud of my circumstance with His nail-scarred hands and got involved with my mud.
Life is full of contradictions. A flood is horrific, while a cool rain on a summer day is refreshing. A fierce wind is destructive, while a gentle breeze is pleasant. The same sun that melts the snow hardens the mud. The obstacle of cancer had created horrendous mud, but a cleansing pool was waiting.
The scary West Texas storms I experienced as a small child are unforgettable. The little cattle town of Lamesa was home to about 6,500 mostly good folks, built against a backdrop of open skies, with tumbleweeds blowing across the prairie. I became accustomed to the twisters that descended on the high plains and, in a strange way, I was addicted to the excitement that accompanied them. I’ve seen tornados drop out of the sky suddenly, without warning. The atmosphere would be eerily transformed beneath a black, boiling sky. No public warning system was in place to alert those in harm’s way of the dangerous weather. We sought shelter from the terror of the insidious funnels that marched their unspeakable destruction across the plains, in the safe haven of Papa’s earthen cellar across the street. I can still close my eyes and feel those worn dirt steps on my backside as I slid downward into the cool musty earth.
There have been times when dark clouds blocked the light of hope. The same storms that assail your life, assail mine. The adversary will never lie down and forget about the seeker who is following hard after God.
The more committed one becomes for the cause of Christ, the more intense the opposition.
With each advance we made in the ministry, we felt the sting of hostile winds. They blew upon us, but they did not blow us off course. We persevered through financial deficit and discouragement. Advancements were made and triumphs were celebrated in spite of the difficulties.
Victories never come without conflict. There is a place on the top of each mountain where the sun is shining. One never rises to the next level without experiencing the struggle of the climb.
Living on a mountain top, exempt from the struggles of life and its difficulties, may never happen. Yet, the sweetest flowers bloom in the deep valley shadows. Their fragrance long reminds the sojourners of God’s sustaining grace during the pressing trials.
In our travels, I’ve been awed by the fascinating palm trees along the coasts. Their flexible trunks bend down to the ground as they’re hammered by the seasonal hurricanes and cyclones. These mighty trees are extremely resilient and their leaves remain green year round. The palm trees withstand because of their deep