Our first son Luke was born prematurely in the United States.  It was a hard pregnancy.  After long weeks of bedrest and medication, late-night trips to the hospital to stop labor, and the prayer support of countless friends he arrived safety.  Our second child, we knew, had a 50% chance of also being premature.  His birth, however, would take place in rural Uganda where even the basic medication and equipment, like oxygen and an incubator, were an arduous day's journey away.  We had to consider the real possibility that we might not be able to stop early labor.  If that was the case, he most likely would not survive.

What does faith mean in this situation?  Is faith the confidence that God would give us a healthy term baby?  Certainly I prayed and hoped for that, but should I expect it?

Well, Caleb Scott Myhre made his way into the world in the spartan surroundings of a mission hospital in Kenya.  Let me share two insights gleaned by struggling to be faithful to our calling as missionaries to Uganda and as responsible parents at the same time.

THE RISK IS REAL 

The risk we incur with our children is not theoretical.  Living in primitive and isolated conditions in rural Africa, it is disturbingly, palpably real.  This goes against the deeply imbedded American cultural norm of expecting a risk-free life.  Does faith mean the assurance of protection from that risk?  Does God guarantee health and life and happiness for His children?  I had confused faith with a presumptive optimism, a confidence that God would work all things for the good I deeply longed for.  Then I lost three children by miscarriage and had to reexamined my understanding.  

As I prayed for Caleb within me, I was tempted to feel that God owed me the favor of saving my baby.  After all, I had given up family, friends, material comforts, medical career, all to serve him here in Uganda.

In Hebrews 11, a long list of believers are commended for their faith.  Yet not all of them fit our conception of "triumph" -- they were beaten, jeered at, imprisoned, mistreated and misunderstood, even killed -- in spite of their faith.

If this is true, then I must accept the reality that serious illness and death are possibilities for my children here.  The risk is real, and faith does not erase it.  

THE ULTIMATE GOAL

If the hoped for object of faith is not a healthy baby, what is it?

The author of Hebrews points to Abraham as an example.  In one of the most disturbing stories of the Bible, God commands Abraham to take his only son, Isaac, whom he loved and offer him as a sacrifice.  Abraham obeys, and as he raises the knife God stops him, satisfied that Abraham's commitment to his Lord is so all-encompassing that he would not withhold even the one thing most precious to him, his son.

What could be worth risking the life of my son?  Only that for which God risked, even lost, the life of His own son -- a life lived in the incomparable joy of His presence.  A life that never ends.

Jesus is the object of our faith, not health or success or happiness or even life itself.  He endured greater suffering that I could ever know, for the joy of saving me.  Following Him must be the absolute priority of my life, even if it means putting my precious, irreplaceable children at risk.  He gives me a glimpse of how much He loves the Babwisi of Uganda by showing me that their lives are worth even losing Caleb.

In the final accounting, there is no risk to obedience -- not even death will separate Caleb from the love of God.  He promises that our apparent loss is truly eternal gain.

[Editor Note:  This article was written by Jennifer Myhre in July 1995 for World Harvest News.  Jennifer, her husband Scott and their four children are faithfully serving the Lord as medical missionaries at the medical mission in Bundibugyo, Uganda.  Many thanks to Jennifer for her permission to use this article,  May 2001.]

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