Stormproof Faith: When Weeping Meets God’s Goodness

Listen Above to my Verbal Farewell to Judy

Opening the Valley of Praise

Tears gently slid down my face, my head bowed, hands humbly raised as an outward sign of holy surrender. “I'll praise in the valley. Praise on the mountain. I'll praise when I'm sure. Praise when I'm doubting. As long as I'm breathing, I’ve got a reason to… Praise!”[1] The voices of hundreds of women filled my ears, as each voice combined to create a mighty chorus of worship. There was a holy anticipation in the room. There was a wondrous awe as the majesty of God filled that sanctuary.

In those moments, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander. This was just a taste of what is to come; the moment when all tribes and peoples will bow down before Jesus, the Christ.

“After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!’ And all the angels were standing around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, saying, ‘Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen.’”[2]

“Judy, is this a little bit like what you’re experiencing right now?” I whispered into the holy moment.

Tears now dripped from my chin, as the weight of loss washed over my heart. Yet, the loss was held in a blanket of worship.

A Friendship Forged in Sorrow

My friendship with Judy was a unique one. We never met in person. Our friendship grew through texts—and one priceless phone call that I’ll never forget.

In the fall of 2023, while on a two-month RV adventure with my family on the southeast coast of the US, I texted Judy, “Hello hello from the South! This is Sarah-Marie.” And thus began a relationship forged in common sorrow that changed my life unequivocally.

“I don’t think I have much of a story,” Judy texted in the early days of our friendship, “except that through God’s love and grace I am surviving a disease. And still have joy in my life.” I remember reading her text and wondering who could honestly say that about their life? I was “Hooked on Judy” from that moment forward! I knew that her story of living with daily grief would be part of my personal survival guide.[3]

You see, Judy had Lou Gehrig’s disease, also known as ALS—a cruel illness that slowly weakens the muscles, stealing movement, speech, and even breath itself. By the time our paths crossed, Judy was years into her diagnosis and already mask ventilator dependent. When positioned on her side, she could use one thumb to text me. Over the 21 months that Judy was in my life, she taught me how to love someone else well, how to find Jesus in pain, and how to live in the tension of ache and awe together.

Peace in Pain

While Judy stared death in the face every day, enduring severe pain and daily loss, she always made a point to reach toward me. She kept up with my health, offering prayers and words of encouragement. But most of all, Judy held space for my grief. In the midst of her own overwhelming sorrow and pain, she offered me a heart willing to hold my pain.

“I want you to know how I have grieved each time you’ve had a crisis,” Judy texted one spring 2024 day. “You have gone through so much. Your events have been life threatening. You really have more stress than me. You have a sweet child to care for and I know you worry about your health events causing her stress.”

After picking up my grief and acknowledging its weight, she moved to encourage. “She is already a strong believer so you can be so thankful for that. I pray for you often as you and your family come to my heart often. We are so blessed that through Christ we can have empathy for our siblings in Christ and love and nurture each other. I heard something recently. ‘If Christ is in your boat, it doesn’t matter about the storms.’ I feel that. I pray that you have joy and peace today.” Judy later shared, “I literally cried when you got Covid. I knew what could be ahead. When you bounced back, I knew God had done what probably no doctor could do. I truly felt like I’d seen a miracle in our midst.”

I asked her one day how she maintained such peace with such a life-altering diagnosis. She shared, “My peace was pretty instant even though I still often get frustrated. When I was diagnosed with ALS, my world was crushed. I figured I’d live a year or two. I never was angry at God or asked, ‘Why me?’ But I knew God could heal in an instant if it was His will. I knew if my child got a disease and I could heal them, I’d do it in an instant. I’ve realized that God’s plan is so much broader than we can see or feel. I always want God’s will first even though I don’t understand.”

As Judy continued to share her story of God’s grace, she texted, “I was totally miserable upon diagnosis. I cried all night. In the morning, I told God that I was miserable, but I didn’t want to make everyone else’s life miserable. I asked for the grace to go on and to please give me joy in my remaining days so that my family didn’t suffer. That day, I wasn’t happy but I had peace that God would meet our needs and He would give me joy.”

Judy had the ability to praise the Lord in pain without belittling the suffering. She shared both in beautiful harmony. “My challenges have been many. This [diagnosis] ruined any plans we had. We’ve had so many crises that we have depended on God more than when our life was rosy. How, in this world, could we do this without Jesus? How?”

Judy gave me the greatest gift one human can give another—the depth of their heart. “Sometimes when I get weary of it all, I just tell God that I have no words. I know He knows my thoughts and my desires. A few times, I’ve taken ‘mini vacations’ from my disease.” Judy went on to tell of a perfect day—one where she could walk, be with family, and enjoy getting ready with hair and makeup! “It’s fun to take a mental break and do something you used to do. God built us with minds that can be anything for a time.”

Judy also shared how her health gave her a place to “take more time to pray for people that have needs. I feel good about that ability when I can’t physically help anymore.”

As I got to know Judy more, I saw such a depth of peace and trust in the Lord. I asked her how she merged God’s plan with the dreams she had for her life. Her response still echoes in my mind: “I can find a lot of things to be sad about. We all have so many losses. Loss of loved ones, loss of future. But, in this moment, my needs are met. Yes, I’d choose not to be in the storm but God has made me stormproof, I guess.”

I queried further by asking how she reconciled knowing God could heal but chose not to heal. In true Judy fashion, she replied, “Maybe I needed a mountain to climb. Maybe I am more usable in this state. I wish His will was the way of my desires but I can only trust that God is in control.”

Judy’s eyes were always set to her heavenly home. She understood more than most of us how temporal this life really is. “God is keeping me going for some reason. I have joy. Just when I think I’m done, it seems that God isn’t ready for me yet. I sleep more but still have joy in my day. God has blessed me greatly.”

I once poured out my heart, sharing that I was wrestling with feeling abandoned by my God. Judy showed up for me yet again—with her one working thumb to share, “Yes, I agree it’s often hard to not feel abandoned by God in the midst of a long unchanging storm. Several times in miserable moments, I’ve felt abandoned. But I remember Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane had felt the burden of his sacrifice for us but chose God’s will. I’m so thankful that I know in my heart that God never leaves me without the hope of His promise. I don’t understand our earthly grievances, but I know God sees the big picture of a beautiful, healthy eternity. I’m so thankful to rejoice in whatever today brings.”

The Sacred Call

In March of 2024, I was hospitalized due to a rare and life-threatening infection in my brain. I had undergone a craniotomy just three weeks earlier. But the abscess was growing again. I was scheduled for a second craniotomy the following morning. With the help of our caregivers—Judy’s devoted husband, Michiel, and my precious father, Jim—a phone call bridged the miles from Oregon to Alabama.

For those priceless moments, my hospital room became a sacred space. Judy took off her ventilator mask and called to pray for my surgery. Hearing her voice for the first time was a precious gift. And while I cannot quote words from that prayer, I will never forget how close our Lord felt in those few short minutes Judy prayed aloud.

The Cloud of Witnesses

Toward the end of her life, our communication became short but still oh so sweet: “God is with us both every moment. I treasure when I can see you face to face. Stay strong with His promises.”

On Easter Sunday, Judy reflected, “The beauty and peace and depth will surpass all our hopes. God is so gracious to promise us so much. Yes, I’m sorta tired of this body, too. But I have certainty it will be more perfect than it ever was here. God’s blessings and I long to see you in Glory!”

I knew my time with Judy on this earth was soon coming to an end. “My breathing now is so short. I am so ready to see Jesus.”

My last text from my dear friend was a reminder of her love and prayers: “Same love and prayers back to you.”

Judy’s life was a gorgeous picture of 2 Corinthians 1:3–4: “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”

A few days later, Judy joined that great cloud of witnesses cheering me on to my heavenly home, giving me the perseverance to run the race marked out for me.[4]

My Judy is now in the presence of her Father… and one day, I’ll join her among that great multitude. She has heard, “Well done, my good and faithful servant,” and now breathes in the marvelous air of holy worship, joining every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands. She is on her face before the throne worshiping God and saying, “‘Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen.’”

AfterSight™

A holy pause, asking the questions that linger after the words have been read.

• AfterSight One: How does the vision in Revelation 7 (every tribe and nation before the throne) shape the way you view your present suffering?

• AfterSight Two: How can you, like Judy, be honest about your suffering without glossing over it or minimizing it?

• AfterSight Three: Judy described herself as “stormproof.” What would it mean for your faith to become stormproof?

• AfterSight Four: Judy said, “Through God’s love and grace I am surviving a disease. And still have joy in my life.” What would joy look like for you in your own current circumstances?

• AfterSight Five: Judy often held my grief even in the midst of her own. Who has held space for your pain, and how can you do the same for others?

• AfterSight Six: What “mini vacations” (small joys or mental escapes) has God given you to sustain you in hard seasons?

For the Curious

[1] Praise by Elevation Worship

[2] Revelation 7:9–12

[3] “One day, you will tell your story of how you overcame what you went through, and it will be someone else’s survival guide.”  Brené Brown

[4] Hebrews 12:1