This was in the airport in Los Cabos, Baja California Sur, Mexico. It was a long and very miserable day.
Steve Dresselhaus, Spring of 2024
Six months ago I was reaching out to ring the doorbell on the Pearly Gates. My time in this current and wonderful phase of life appeared to be approaching its grand finale. I was about to discover firsthand if the religious zeal of my atheist friends, who place their faith in their belief that they have no belief, or if my trust in Jesus was real and something that made the next phase of my journey something good and wonderful and not to be feared. The ultimate test of truth was just around the corner, and I was almost there.
I was two weeks into a mysterious and undiagnosed illness and was going from bad to worse. The doctors in Baja California Sur, Mexico, where I live, had done all they could but were unable to determine what I had. After an evening video call with a doctor friend in the US, we decided that the very next day I would travel to Phoenix, while I was still able to travel without being air ambulanced out. Ten hours later I was on the road to the Los Cabos airport. My daughter Claire, who had traveled to La Paz to care for me, was my traveling companion. Lois, my wife, was in California at the funeral of her father.
Arriving in Phoenix, a good friend and coworker drove me straight from the airport to the emergency room. The tests began. Lots and lots of them – for several days. Only the insurance company could keep track and count them all.
After one night in the emergency room, I was transferred to a room in the neurological center with no idea of what I had. All we knew was that my condition was deteriorating rapidly. A large team of doctors worked together trying to figure out what was pushing me towards eternity and the next phase of my life. Cardiologists, oncologists, nephrologists, neurologists, pulmonologists, hepatologists and likely a few other ists pooled their collective knowledge and kept coming back to me with “we just don’t know what is causing this.” I asked them if I could be in the next episode of House. They thought maybe so.
I ended up being in the hospital for 11 days, and yes, the doctors did discover my illness. I had a twofer: severe, life threatening complications from bacteria induced ulcers, and the Miller-Fisher syndrome, a one-in-a-million variant of Guillain-Barre syndrome. And no, I never got the MRNA jab which has been linked as an occasional trigger to Guillain-Barre. My case simply came out of the blue. The treatment took 4 days plus a couple of days for things to stabilize. The treatment consisted of antibiotics for the bacterial infection and IVIG (intravenous immunoglobulin), an IV made up of antibodies from 16,000 people. I will be writing thank-you notes for the rest of my life.
I have two main memories of my experience in this ordeal, and both of them are positive. The first memory is how well everything worked. People complain about the health care system in the US. All I know is that for me it worked, and it worked well. I would not trade my experience for all the socialized health care in the world (some of which I have seen firsthand, since I am a missionary who has had the privilege of being all over this wonderful world of ours). Being that I was in the US, my care team was made up of people from around the world. The diversity was simply astounding. But it worked, and it worked well because everyone had the same goal, caring for me, their patient. What kept these people working so well and efficiently was their concern for me. I am not so naïve as to think that dollars were not a motivator; but regardless, what I observed and experienced was pretty wonderful, and here I am, giving testimony that the system worked well.
I look at Christianity, compare it to my care team, and ask myself, what would happen if all of us chose to get along and work together towards the same goal and purpose instead of competing for tithe money and prestige? What would happen if churches could be delivered from the demon of the Three Bs (Bucks in the bank, Butts in the pews, and Buildings in the ‘burbs)? If we could work together with the common goal of serving King Jesus instead of focusing a bit too narrowly on our own congregations, it would be said of us “Look! The people are united, and they all speak the same language. After this, nothing they set out to do will be impossible for them!” This quote is from the account of the tower of Babel in Genesis 11. Building the tower itself was not necessarily wrong or sinful, and it was not what really angered God. What was wrong was the builder’s selfish and arrogant motivation for building the tower. Imagine what the world would become if the 1.5 billion of us who call ourselves Christians actually practiced the unity about which we preach. Instead of recruiting people to help me build my own tower of Babel, sometimes referred to as “my church,” what if we helped each other become as much like Jesus as possible? What would the world become if our evangelism was more a way of life than it was winning an argument? Imagine a world where millions and millions of people, after seeing how we live, began to understand the Colossians 1 concept of the “reconciliation of all things” made possible by Christ’s perfect sacrifice. It would be beautiful.
The second super positive experience was life changing for me. Because of my extreme double vision, I could not read or watch TV or do much of anything else while I lay there in the hospital bed. During the day I would listen to podcasts, mostly about science type stuff. At night, all night, I would listen to the Bible on audio. At times I would wake up in the middle of the night and be impressed with what I was hearing and jot it down as legibly as I could in a notebook. My handwriting is atrocious to start with, but with the handicap of double vision it went from atrocious to whatever is worse than atrocious. The night after I got the news that they might have to take me to intensive care because of my deteriorating condition, I woke up while Philippians chapter 1 was being read. The verses that I heard first were 20 and 21: “I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.” Was this it? Was this a not-so-subtle hint from the Almighty? Was I moving on? As the old timers used to say, was I about to “graduate to glory?” Honestly, I was not bothered by that possibility. I felt no remorse or fear. I was ready and did not dread what seemed to be coming my way. I was certainly curious about the process as I came face to face with my possible departure. What would the ultimate transition be like?
But then the passage goes on to say: “If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you for your porgress and joy in the faith, so that through my being with you again your boasting in Christ Jesus will abound on account of me.” The second I heard this, I knew without any doubt whatsoever that I would be going back to La Paz. It was the next morning that the doctors discovered what I had and began the treatment. I was never transferred to intensive care.
I am now back in La Paz. It has been 6 months since I started this medical journey. I still have some double vision, but it is getting better and I am doing all my work, except for driving downtown or at night, although I have even both a couple of times now. Lois and I are serving the Patio, the church body with whom we meet. I am taking people to sea as part of our sea kayaking outreach, even leading a 5 day kayak expedition in the Sea of Cortez. I am back to SCUBA diving and will soon resume this activity as part of our ocean-based ministry. Leading hikes, doing beach cleanups and taking church families on camping trips are back on track. These activities are all part of how the Patio serves our community as we make disciples for Jesus. Of course, we do Bible studies and teach, preach, and do a few other traditional “Christiany” type things. As we attempt to demonstrate via our way of living what being a disciple of Jesus really means, and as we use words to help people understand all that Jesus did for them, we hope they will “increase in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man.”
It was in 1973 that first I became interested in Baja after reading an article in National Geographic and seeing a book by Jacques Ives Cousteau about the Sea of Cortrez. In 1982 I made my first visit to this wonderful peninsula. It was love at first sight. In 1992 Lois and I moved here full time to serve as missionaries who promote the expansion of God’s kingdom and who do our small part to care for God’s creation. I have loved this place for decades and am grateful that King Jesus used Philippians 1 that night in the hospital to clearly confirm “that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith.”
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