I Cannot Be Silent

 I was called to preach when I was only 16.  For 56 years, I have proclaimed the Gospel through preaching and teaching.  I had always felt that God blessed me with a good voice.  But back in the summer, I developed a problem.  

I noticed it one Sunday when I was preaching.  I was having trouble pronouncing some of my words.  Words that started with an “S” really gave me a problem.  I did not know what was going on.  

One night when I was eating, I could not form any words.  I was getting very concerned. Sunday was coming and I was fearful the problem would get worse.  It did.

I called Wes, our Minister of Music, and asked him if he would be prepared to lead a hymn if I had to stop preaching.  I remember him asking, “Do you really think you will not be able to preach?”  

“I don’t know,” I responded.  “I guess we will find out.”  

I could tell as soon as I started my sermon that Sunday that I would not get through it.  My words were slurred and garbled.  I’ve had people tell me later that they thought I was having a stroke.  I asked Wes to come and lead a hymn and I walked out of the sanctuary.  I got some water and when I came back I tried to continue preaching, but it wasn’t working.  I had crashed and burned.  

I went to see my dentist and she immediately said, “I think it is your CPAP machine.”  I’ve been using a CPAP for over 13 years.  Maybe she was right.

Then I decided to go see my ENT doctor.  She said, "We need to have you tested for Sjogren’s disease."  When the test came back negative, she said, “Maybe it is your CPAP machine.”  

My CPAP doctor was no longer with Atrium Health, so my ENT referred me to a new doctor.  It would be almost two months before I could get an appointment.  

I had not told my daughter about my problem.  I was assuming it was just dry mouth and I would get over it.  But she was watching our service.  She called me and said, “Dad, this could be serious.”

The next morning, I was in the Emergency Department.  I was being tested for a possible stroke or a brain tumor.  The Emergency Room doctor told me to follow up with my regular doctor.  The first thing she said was, “This could be your thyroid.  We need to have you tested.”

There was another possibility for which there was no test.  Maybe this was a symptom of my grief.  Grief can create physical issues . . . maybe I was just grieving.  

Sundays were not getting any better.  Chad Killebrew told me that if I ran into a problem, he would be glad to read my manuscript.  One Sunday I knew that I could not continue, so I invited Chad to take over.  

I did not tell anyone, but I was scared. My condition was not getting any better and there were no answers.  Whatever was causing it, I knew that I would not be able to continue preaching.  I started thinking about how I would step down.  It was not fair to the church to have a preacher without a voice.

In the last week of August, I traveled to the beach to spend some time with my oldest daughter, Lynn, and her family.  My oldest grandson, Benjamin, is an Infectious Disease Doctor in Spartanburg, South Carolina.  He was there with his wife and daughter.  

When we were leaving to come home, Benjamin told me that he thought I had a condition known as Myasthenia Gravis, a long-term autoimmune disease.  The immune system attacks the connection between the nerves and the muscles.  

 

This disease plays out in many different ways and can be very severe.  In my case, it is attacking my Bulbar muscles that control speaking.  Myasthenia Gravis is not curable, but it is treatable. 

He sent a note to my doctor asking that I be tested.  I was and that is exactly what I have.  My doctor immediately put me on medication that appears to be working.  

I had one more hurdle to clear.  Myasthenia Gravis can be caused by a tumor known as a thymoma.  I made one more trip to the hospital for a CT scan to rule out a tumor.  Almost before I got home my doctor had messaged me to share the good news—all was clear.  

The next day I had a visit with my doctor to see how the medicine was working.  The visit turned into something much more profound.

Dr. Alimena told me that there were two things she wanted to share with me.

She said, “I want you to understand how rare it is to be diagnosed in a clinical setting.  Many times, a patient is on a ventilator in ICU before we find out it is Myasthenia Gravis.” If Benjamin had not sent my doctor the note asking her to test me for this disease, I probably would still not know. 

The bloodwork for Myasthenia Gravis is very extensive. My blood was sent all over the country.  All of the tests came back positive except one.  The last test to return from a lab in California was negative.

 “This tells me,” my doctor said, “that the possibility of this progressing to other muscles is very unlikely.”  

Some people might say I was lucky.  Some would say fortunate.  But I realized that this was more than luck or chance—I was blessed. As my ENT doctor said, “It was meant to be.”

As a tremendous burden lifted off of my shoulders, I realized that God still has work for me to do. He is not finished with me yet.  

On one of the first Sundays when I could not continue my sermon, I recalled a story that I had told in one of my first Easter sermons, almost 50 years ago.  

A minister had lost his voice due to some type of throat disease.  He could no longer speak.  On Easter Sunday he wrote on a pad, “How tragic to awake on Easter Sunday without a voice to shout, Alleluia!  Christ is Risen!”

I remember thinking how terrible it would be for a preacher not to have a voice.  Now, it was happening to me.  The story kept coming back, it was haunting me.

But that is not all he wrote.  He added, “How much more tragic to have a voice and remain silent.”

Through the grace of God, the love and prayers of many people, and the wisdom of my grandson, I still have a voice.

I cannot be silent.