“When it is all said in done, I just hope that I don't get in the way. I have spent my entire life trying to stay out of the way.”
This was John Weber’s “about statement” on his Facebook page. The statement came out of his mouth a lot. For a big guy, getting out of the way wasn’t the easiest task. But for John, he reminded himself frequently to do this- get out of the way. While size had something to do with this statement, he had a bigger reason for the reminder- John wanted to share Jesus. He wanted to remind all of us that Jesus loves us.
A year ago, John wrote a post encouraging waiting (https://mrwebersblog.wordpress.com/2020/11/04/just-wait/comment-page-1/#comment-103). This isn’t an anxious waiting- the type we have when we are unsure of news. This isn’t our frustrated waiting when we as a driver in Fort Wayne wait at road construction projects. No, this waiting is a faithful waiting. It’s a waiting of certainty; a confident waiting of looking forward to what God has in store for us.
What was John’s confidence? He knew he was a winner, and wanted everyone to know the same - and that meant getting out of the way. He led with Jesus - because it’s Jesus’ love that moved John to be out of the way.
John shared, “And the only thing I can do, the only cure, is love. That’s all I can offer you. I wish I had more to give, I wish I could solve our problems. I wish I could make you all happy again. I wish I could laugh with you. But these are not things that I can do or give. They are not my job. And so, broken as I am… I can do nothing except try to rest in the arms and love of my savior, Jesus. Friends… LOVE… the LOVE of Jesus, is the only cure. For all of this.”
John had hope in Christ. John trusted. He wrote, “I know that my redeemer lives (as Job once said.) And that has made all the difference. I trust the promises of God. I trust that He will see me through all of this. I have no doubt that I will get angry, cry, have my moments of fear… but I will be safe. In the end, after the pain, after the horrible side effects, after all of this eventually–even if not from this cancer–comes death. This marks an ending. But it also marks a beginning. And that beginning is something in which I hope and trust.
Someday, I will be done with chemo. Someday, I will be done with cancer. It may be on this side of heaven. And if so, GREAT! I can refocus on losing weight and getting healthier. I can take Hannah fishing. I can go to Naomi’s performances. I can build stuff with Gideon. I can take Sarah out. We can go on family vacations and trips. I can get back to my incredible school and to my amazing students. I can work with a staff that I have nicknamed “The Dream Team.” I miss them all so dearly. How I would LOVE to do that all again.
But maybe I will be all done with cancer and chemo on the other side of heaven. And if so, GREAT! I will be reunited with family members like my grandparents, my Uncle Jim, my Aunt Debbie; more distant relatives like Uncle Will and Aunt Dorothy. I will get to see heroes like Earl Cotter and Ron Harman. I will get to see friends, colleagues, classmates, and students like Justin Mueller, Al Henderson, Drew Ekart, and Jon Geitz and Kayla Jones. And I will see my twins. I will be free from pain. And I will await for all of my loved ones to join me.
This fight is long, but in the end… I WIN, no matter what.”
John has won and, through our mourning, we can rejoice in his triumph - thanks to Jesus. Oh yes, John, we know - Jesus loves us - we’re winners, too.
