Close Call

“I knew you before I formed you in your mother’s womb. Before you were born I set you apart and appointed you as my prophet to the nations.”

“O sovereign Lord,” I said, “I can’t speak for you! I’m too young!”

The Lord replied, “Don’t say, ‘I’m too young’, for you must go wherever I send you and say whatever I tell you. And don’t be afraid of the people, for I will be with you and will protect you. I, the Lord, have spoken!” Then the Lord reached out and touched my mouth and said, “Look, I have put my words in your mouth!”

—Jeremiah 1:5–9 (NLT)

A few years ago, Patty and I spent an incredible evening with a very dear couple we had drawn close to while working together to restore a local pastor and his ministry. While we had known them for years through church, we had never really taken the time to socialize. It had been pretty much a casual acquaintance. This particular evening was all about getting to know each other better.

After dinner at a local Japanese steakhouse, we returned to their house to kick back and relax. It wasn’t long before they began sharing openly about their experiences growing up, how they met, and of course, about their walk with God. It was really cool listening to them as they reminisced and reflected. Both were US Army veterans. In fact, they’d met while serving. She was a former personnel admin specialist. He was a retired helicopter pilot who had flown combat missions in Southeast Asia and the Middle East. Listening to them was more than captivating. Patty and I were absolutely enthralled. Then it was our turn. “Tell us about you,” they said. I remember responding almost immediately with, “Are you sure? Our story reads more like a novel than a real-life biography. You won’t believe it.” And I really meant it. Of course they ignored my hesitation and responded, “Come on, tell us!” Well, I think that night was the first time we had told the whole story—the unedited version of the Wheeler saga. For some reason, this time just seemed like the right time. Why? I’m not really sure. I think it was because we had made a connection we had never made before, and we trusted them. When we were through telling our story, they just looked at us in amazement and said something to the effect of “Wow! You guys have a real story! We had no idea!” It wasn’t until later that night that the reality of all we had been through really hit me. We had endured trial after trial, close call after close call. But why?

When we backed out of their driveway later that night, Patty looked at me with a look I had seen only a few times in all the years we had been together and said, “Mark, you need to write a book!” Of course, I had joked many times over the years about writing a book—in fact, several books. I had even proposed catchy titles for each one of them, titles like Riding Solo on a Two-Man Patrol, All for the Wrong Reasons, and Four Walls and a Utility Bill. But until this particular night, they were never really a serious consideration. Writing a book had been nothing more than a pipe dream. In my mind, writing was reserved for just about everyone but me. Write a book? Are you serious? I could hardly come up with enough words to complete my first essay in English Comp 101, let alone write a book. One after another, all of the “yeah, buts” rolled off my tongue as we drove home. It was obvious that the pipe dream mentality was deeply rooted in my psyche. All of the reasons—or should I say excuses—for why I could never write a book kept playing over and over in my head. Yet I couldn’t deny what had happened. God had given me an appointment and an assignment. He had given me revelation and confirmation. He had spoken a powerful and significant word into my heart. He had given me the “why” and the “want to.” All I had to do was act on it.

Well, I wish I could say I bounced out of bed that very next morning and with a feverish exuberance began knocking out chapter after inspired chapter. But that was not the case. It would be several years—eight, to be exact—before I mustered enough gumption to write the first sentence. It wasn’t until after I was diagnosed with colon cancer and had undergone nine major surgeries that the “why” and the “want to” became real enough to deliver me from what seemed like a terminal case of procrastination. Now, don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t like I had been struck suddenly with some newfound sense of mortality, nor was my change in attitude a knee-jerk reaction to a recent near-death experience. It wasn’t like that at all. My attitude change was, in fact, a heart change—a heart change that had renewed my sense of purpose and belief. A purpose and belief that said, “You are set apart! You can do this! You are called to do this!” In other words, the “why” God had given me had breathed life into my “want to” and had overcome my fears. It was time to go where He had told me to go and tell the story that He had told me to tell. After all, as with Jeremiah, He had put His words in my mouth.