God bless you.
On Saturday night, I covered the 10th championship victory of a Chicago sports team
when the Chicago Slaughter defeated the Ft. Wayne Freedom to win the Continental
Indoor Football League title in the Sears Centre, a 10,000-seat arena in suburban west
Chicago.
In my 37 years of writing for the Chicago Sun-Times, I don't know of any other
sports reporter in the city who can claim that milestone. First, I covered the Sting and
the two North American Soccer League championships that they won in 1981 and 1984.
Next, I covered the Bulls when they, led by Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen and
coach Phil Jackson, won six NBA championships in 1991-93 and 1996-98.
Next, I covered the Chicago Rush, when it won the 2006 Arena Football League
championship. Then Saturday, the Slaughter's win enabled me to enjoy a tie, of sorts,
with Jackson, who, two weeks ago, won his NBA-record 10th NBA title when the Los
Angeles Lakers beat the Orlando Magic to win their fourth title under him.
What a proud milestone!
But on tomorrow (Tuesday, June 30), I will celebrate a milestone much prouder
and more profound than my being the lead beat man covering 10 championships won
by Chicago pro sports teams. I will celebrate my 41st wedding anniversary with my
wife and high school sweetheart, Joyce.
Thank you Jesus!!!!!!!
Yes, it was 41 years, two deceased infant twin sons, three living daughters, two
deceased fathers, three deceased brothers, one deceased sister, seven surgeries, five
grandchildren, 10 jobs and 155 pounds ago (all totals cumulative) that Joyce and I
married each other at 3125 North 29th St., Kansas City, Kan., a modest, wooden-frame,
three-bedroom house in which her family has lived for some 50 years and where her
mother, Mrs. Emma Wooten-Searcy, 87, still stubbornly lives to this very day.
We didn't have a lavish church wedding because neither we nor our parents
could afford one. Neither did we see the need for one or for any reception afterward.
We spent our first night in a Kansas City (Mo.) hotel that no longer stands, then spent
our honeymoon in Denver and Estes Park, Colo., and we're still married and in love.
We first met each other in the spring of 1961 at Sumner High School in Kansas
City. Kan. I was a senior and she was a sophomore. At that time, she weighed about
70 pounds and I weighed roughly 140 pounds. Boy, were we slim and slender in those
days! But over the course of time, good living and having and raising children can
round out the world's most svelte lovers.
I thank God for my wife and for the longevity of our marriage. Strong, long
marriages are part of my family's tradition. My mother, Sarah Loraine Sanders-Banks,
and my father, Rev. A. D. Banks, Sr., were married for some 26 years before the death
of my mother ended it when I was 11. My oldest sister, Mrs. Maude Lee Burrell, was
married to her childhood sweetheat, N. L. Burrell, for 47 years before she died in 2001.
My next oldest sister, Lue Kuicious Banks-Brown, has been married to her childhood
sweetheart, Sylvester Brown, for 51 years. My younger brother, Rev. Jimmie Lee Banks,
has been married to his high school sweetheart, Alice Yates Banks, for 44 years.
Yes, we both met our future wives at the distinguished Sumner High.
Marriage isn't easy and marriage isn't always happiness and perfect agreement.
But marriage is good. The two things that have most preserved my marriage to Joyce
are our faith in God and our love for each other.
I liked Joyce the very first time I saw her. As usual, she and her late brother, Roscoe,
Jr., came to school earlier than everybody else every morning because her father drove
them there on his way to work. I arrived early only because, as Sumner's student council
president, I was invited to attend a Kiwannis Club breakfast with other school officers
and we were to arrive early to be taken to the breakfast by a school administrator.
Joyce radiated the beauty of an angel and I liked her, not necessarily loved her,
from the first time I saw her because I thought she was so, so pretty. I introduced
myself to her and shortly thereafter tried to be her boyfriend. But when she refused to
say much when I'd call her on the telephone, I told her I was quitting her and didn't
want to be bothered anymore because I felt that her refusal to say much meant that she
really didn't like me. What stupid me failed to realize, however, was that she was very,
very shy and that she had never had a boyfriend before or had even ever been kissed.
But a couple of weeks after I quit her, she skipped lunch on day and waited in the
hallway outside my history class, taught by Mr. Edward Beasley. She had two very
important questions to ask and a request to make.
When I came out, there she was as sweet, quiet and as pretty as could be.
"Hi," she said, rather nervously.
"Hi," I said back to her.
"Do you have a girlfriend yet?" she asked me.
"Naw," I said.
"Can I be your girlfriend," she asked.
"Yes, sure," I said.
"Then would you call me tonight?" she asked.
"Okay," I said.
She still didn't talk much. But if she hadn't come back to me, I probably would
have tried to hit on her again because she was so nice and pretty. She just beat me to
the punch. We courted each other for seven years. Since I didn't have a car, most of our
dates were on the front porch or in the living room of her home at 3125 N. 29th St.
We rode the bus to movies and to dinner at downtown cafeteria. It took us just a
couple of months to really fall in love with each another. That love has lasted to this
very day and will continue until we relocate to heaven.
Today (Monday, June 29), I have to go to the University of Chicago Hospital to
undergo tests and preparations for back surgery. Then tomorrow, my wife and I will
celebrate our anniversary.
So let me take this opportunity to say before the whole world, or at least that part
that is reading this Sun-Times blog online: I love you Joyce and happy 41st wedding
anniversary baby.
God bless you all.
God bless you.
Today, Father's Day, is set aside to honor me and all the other fathers of
the world.
I'm proud and thankful to be a father. I'm even prouder and more thankful to
be a husband.
I owe both of these blessing to two sources: God and my wife Joyce. I love
my Lord and I love my wife dearly and shall forever do so.
As I continue to undergo God's healing in my battles with a brain tumor,
prostate cancer and end-stage congestive heart failure, my greatest earthly
sources of strength and support come from being both a good husband and a good
father.
Now, bear in mind that I was a husband to Joyce first before she made a
daddy out of me. And being old school, I still believe that that's the way things
should be. Couples should get married before they have children.
But I can't blame the women for this growing discrepancy. Most women
want to get married before they have children and want to stay married during and
after raising those children.
Unfortunately, we men increasingly have been messing things up.
Especially in my race. No woman on the face of the earth has done more
for her man and her children and gotten less reward, less respect and less
appreciation for it than the black woman. That's because too many of us black men
want to use our women as meal tickets, sex toys and punching bags.
It pains me Sunday after Sunday and church service after church service
to stand behind the lectern in the pulpit and preach to a congregation that is 80
percent women, who are 90 percent single mothers.
Don't get me wrong, now. I'm not saying that we black men have a monopoly
on mistreating women because in every race there are low-down men who
mistreat women. There are still cultures that deny women basic human rights and
treat them as third-class citizens and even slaves, which is an abomination.
But I believe there is more personal mistreatment of women in my race
than anywhere else because we have more single mothers running our
households, we have more women being violently abused and we have deadbeat
dads in obscene abundance.
Happy Father's Day?
Yes, but only because of loving, dedicated, hard-working mothers.
Obviously, there'd be no fathers in a motherless world. But there is an
increasing population of mothers whose babies' daddies don't want to be
husbands. They want to play the field. They want every woman they meet to
be a virgin when they are nothing near the same. It's a shame. It's a shame. It's a
low-down dirty shame. Too many men want to pimp, skimp and limp their way
through life.
A good father is a husband first. A good father loves his wife and children. A
good father works hard to support them. A good father is right there with the mother
raising those kids together in bad times and good times. A good father stands his watch
when baby is sick or needs feeding or needs a diaper change. A good father disciplines
his children and loves and respects their mother in full view of them. A good father prays
with his children and takes them to church. A good father lives his life in a way that makes
his children proud and happy to call him "daddy." A good father will sacrifice even his
life for the safety and welfare of his family. A good father never quits being a good
father.
I thank God that I'm blessed. My wife Joyce and I have been married now 41
years on the 30th of this month. We started out as high school sweethearts at
Sumner High School in Kansas City, Kan. We courted for seven years before we
got married. During our four years of engagement, we had a joint savings
and checking account in preparation for marriage.
Few couples even court anymore. Driven by lust, greed, immaturity and
irresponsibility, too many young people rush into bed with one another and rush
even faster into a marriage doomed from the start because they really didn't love
each other and because they lacked the faith, discipline and hard work to make
a marriage work.
I am so thankful to Joyce for putting up with me for so long. She has been,
I really believe, a much better wife than I have been a husband. She has never
lied to me, has always loved and been true to me, has done whatever she could
to make me happy, has supported me in everything worthwhile I've ever
endeavored to do and has made me the primary focus of her life behind our
savior Jesus Christ.
Can I say the same about me? No, sisters and brothers, I can't. I have not
been a perfect husband. Yes, me, Rev. Lacy J. Banks, a baptist preacher for
56 years, I have not been a perfect husband to her as she has been a perfect
wife to me.
But I have been a perfect father. I love my three daughters Nicole Cherice-
Roxann Chapman, Noelle Victoria-Renee Banks and Natasha Sarah-Lorraine
Banks with all my heart. I am also thankful to Joyce for her effort to bear me twin
sons before she miscarried and they died of premature birth. One was still-born
and the other lived a day and died. We both still cry occasionally, especially Joyce,
over the memory of losing them and the agony of wondering what might have
been.
I have given my daughters a Christian upbringing. I have always been there
for them when they needed help. I have sheltered them from premature adulthood.
I made a good education a top priority for them and my wife and I fulfilled our
dreams of making sure each got a college degree before either marrying or getting
pregnant. My daughters have disappointed me many times. But my wife has
seldom disappointed me. Quite frankly, I believe she deserves somebody better.
So I am immensely grateful that she is doing me a favor to continue being my
pride and joy and letting me be her husband.
To all you mothers of the world, I wish and pray you joy and happiness with
your children, grandchildren and great grand-children. But I also wish and pray
for you to have a loving, faithful, hard-working (or at least willing-to-work or
seeking-to-work) husband be your side to cherish and support you as I cherish
and support my wife.
I am blessed to have a wonderful Christian, hard-working, faithful and loving
son-in-law in Larry Chapman. He and Nicole have been married for 15 years
now (thank you Jesus) and are the proud loving parents of two girls and two
boys, whom they are raising diligently in the Christian doctrine.
I wish Noelle and Natasha will be equally blessed to know the marital
bliss that their mother and I have enjoyed for 41 years. But although the pickings
are slim, the Lord is able. So I will not lose hope. But I also thank God that they
realize it is better to be alone and happy, than married and miserable.
God bless you.
God bless you.
Pull up a chair, if you will, and let me praise, preach and thank the Lord with you for
a moment. And if you are not too busy Wednesday and Thursday nights, June 17 and
June 18, join me in revival at the Community Covenant Church 12446 South Loomis,
where Dr. Mark Thompson is the dynamic pastor.
My latest praise report is the continued lowering of my PSA, which tells me that
God's healing of my prostate cancer is in continued progress because the disease is in
progressive remission.
Get back, cancer!!! Get back!!! Get up off of me and get on out of me!!! Be gone
from my midst, in the mighty and magical name of King Jesus!!! By the power of the
Holy Ghost and by the grace of almighty God, I claim victory over mine infirmities and
over your infirmities, my blogreaders, in the name of Jesus and under the anointed
authority of our faith.
The final result of my blood work during my May 28 visit with Dr. Allen Anderson, my
cardiologist at the University of Chicago Medical Center, included the report that my PSA
is now down to 1.01, a marked improvement from my February reading of 2.01. My good
friend Eugene and the Kizart brothers (David, Milton and nephew Clay), Samuel, Andre,
Joseph, David, George and Jacqueline are all happy about this.
Hallelujah!!!!
Ain't God good!!!!!
First, the tumor on my brain was ruled benign a year ago. Now, my prostate cancer
is dissolving more and more toward oblivion.
It's unfortunate that my heart is no better. I'm still an end-stage congestive heart
failure patient, needing a heart transplant. It's still very, very weak. Its pumping efficiency
has been rated at 19 percent and less. But I am blessed and fortunate that it isn't worse.
Right?
Praise the Lord for every little bit more of His grace and mercy trickling down on me.
In my smackdown with death, that ol' despicable grim reaper, God is giving me the
victory. That gives me continued cause to sing,
"Victory is mine.
Victory is mine.
Victory today is mine.
I told Satan, 'Get thee behind me.'
Victory today is mine."
If God is likewise blessing you in your battle with whatever health issue or adversity,
why don't you join in with the rest of us redeemed with our healings in progress and sing,
"Victory is mine. Victory is mine. Victory today is mine. I told Satan, 'Get thee behind me.'
Victory today is mine."
Praise the Lord!
I want to thank all of my blogreaders for your continued prayers and support. You
are a great part of the reason why I am not just still holding onto God's unchanging hand,
but that my overall health issue, including a bad back, is slowly getting better .
I know that, for my enemies, I am not dying fast enough.
Neither are you.
If our enemies had their way, you and I would have been dead a long time ago. Am I
right about it, Gwen, Donna, John, Connie, Carrol, Natasha, Tomas, Mary, Cheryl, Darrell,
Gregory, Henry, Tommie, Jimmie, Veryunca, Flossie, Spencer, Maria, Patricia, Bill,
Wardella, Marsea and the rest of y'all? I just had to give a shout out to all y'all.
Am I right and ain't God good?
But while we're not dying fast enough for our enemies, we're dying slow enough
for our friends. Moreover, we're dying slower than a lot of people who presently are
younger, healthier and wealthier than we are. One does not have to be sick or old or
both to die.
Once more, am I right about it?
Yes, we are in a smackdown with death just like our dear departed loved ones were.
A smackdown with debts.
A smackdown with sickness.
A smackdown with unemployment and economic hardship.
A smackdown with divers temptations.
A smackdown with doubt, despair, depression and disaster.
A smackdown with all manner of evil.
But thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through Jesus Christ our Lord. For
greater is He who is within you and me than he that is within the world.
Yes, we may have to suffer sometimes. But we have the victory.
Our burdens may get heavy and our souls may feel dreary and weary. But we have
the victory.
We may have to cry, drink tears for water and toss and turn all night in beds of
affliction, sometimes. But we have the victory.
Our friends may desert us and our enemies may outnumber us and even seem, at
times, to have the upper hand. But weep not. Be encouraged. Take heart and be
thankful. For whereas weeping may endure for a night or two or even three sometimes,
joy cometh in the morningtime and we shall gain the victory.
So, keep on praying, trusting and believing in God, because our God is an awesome
God.
God bless you.
God bless you.
I saw my cardiologist, Dr. Allen Anderson, on Thursday at the University of Chicago
Medical Center. My wife, Joyce, accompanied me.
"I am pleasantly surprised," Dr. Anderson said, after carefully listening to my heart
through his stethoscope, and after his nurse had given him my blood pressure reading of
98 over 68. "You're doing better than you were earlier this year when you were here in the
hospital (March 12-17). Obviously, you are doing a better job of taking care of yourself. I
can't see any reason why you shouldn't be able continue the way you are indefinitely and
stay on your present medications."
And as for that death sentence, when he and other doctors felt my chances of
living out the year were slim if I did not have a Heartmate II ILVAD pump implanted
to replace my defective and failing left ventricle in pumping blood throughout my body?
"We can't really say how long you can live without that pump," Dr. Anderson said.
"Your heart is still weak and the pump will still help you tremendously. But we don't like to
give out any numbers regarding how long you can do without it."
Well, no way will I give myself any credit for any improvement or for the fact I at
least haven't gotten worse. My wife deserves some of the credit for doing her best to try
to take care of me. She is my primary caregiver. I also have to give credit to you prayer
partners, who have been touching and agreeing with me on the desires of my heart for
a total healing of my end-staged congestive heart failure, my prostate cancer and my
brain tumor, which has been ruled benign. This healing journey is 13 months old now.
But the real credit, the thanksgiving and the glory belongs to my Lord. On my own,
I am not even worthy to still be alive today if my life was based on moral merit or on my
eating right, exercising everyday, losing excess weight and keeping my mind stayed on
Jesus 24/7.
My sicknesses have exposed primal weaknesses and desperation in me. I have
been occasionally harassed by a mild fear of dying. But it is very, very mild because my
soul is anchored in the Lord. My desire to live is far, far stronger than my fear of dying.
And my desire to live has been tremendously rejuvenated by God through His grace,
through the stripes of our crucified Christ, through the power of God's Holy Ghost and
through the love of my wife and others.
Now, don't get me wrong. I am not yet totally healed. My heart is still weak. It is not
pumping my blood efficiently at all. My mitral valve is still defective. My left ventricle is
still grossly enlarged or dilated. I still get shortness of breath if I exert myself too much
physically. I still have a very sore lower back problem that prohibits me from walking or
standing more than a few minutes without pain despite my having received two
epidural cortisone shots within the last five weeks.
Occasional mental fatigue resulted in my having my first auto accident in about 30
years three weeks ago. I was dozing in rush hour traffic on I-294 south and rear-
ended another motorist resulting in thousands of dollars of damages. But thank God
that nobody was injured.
I am still deeply depressed over my middle daughter, Noelle, a single mother and
a devout Christian, losing her job and facing the prospect of losing her home, taking her
son Caleb out of a private Christian school and moving in with us when her unemployment
runs out if she can't find another suitable job soon.
The Chicago Sun-Times, for which I have worked 37 years, has declared
bankruptcy and we employees have taken a nine percent pay cut and agreed to take
eight days off without pay to avoid additional layoffs and to help our paper survive these
turbulent, tough times of our nation's woefully ailing economy. i the process, a lot of
good people were released into the growing multitude of the unemployed.
But thank God that I'm still holding on.
Thank God that my wife and I still have our jobs after seeing so many co-workers
and loved ones lose theirs.
Thank God that we still have some decent health insurance.
Thank God that we still have a home to live in, cars to drive, food to eat and clothes
to wear.
Thank God that we still have a reasonable portion of functional, enjoyable health,
despite some aches and pains and serious sicknesses.
Thank God that we still have sense enough to say "Thank you, Jesus!!" because
if it had not been for the Lord on our side, where would I be? Where would you be?
Where would we be?
Most of all, thank God for Jesus!!!
And right now, I'm still on life support in terms of depending upon God's grace and
leaning on the everlasting arm of Christ Jesus.
Just because I got a good report Thursday and just because that medical death
sentence has been retrieved does not guarantee me that I will still live out this year, this
month, this week, this day or this hour.
Is anybody listening to me out there?
Can any of you declare unequivocally that you will survive this very day regardless
of how young you are, how strong you are, how good you feel or how great a report
your doctor gives you?
No, you can not. So-called healthy folk still drop dead of instant heart attacks after
allegedly never having been sick a day in their lives. Or we could die at the hands of
other humans or through some accident or natural catastrophe.
So, again, I want to take this time to say "Thank you, Jesus," and say it in front of
the world. All that I have and the best that I have ever been and ever hope to be, I owe
it all to my Jesus. He died for me on Calvary. He shed His blood as a remission for my
sins. And because I believe His gospel, I am redeemed in my spirit even though I am
dying in my flesh, as we all are, day in and day out.
I'm just glad that I have life beyond this life and a home beyond this home. I am so
glad that I know Jesus as my savior. I am so glad at how He has preserved the
Sun-Times down through the years, where we went to owner to owner and naysayers
counted us down and out again and again and again. I thank God for good people to
work for and good people to work with.
I pray that God blesses you one and all, my dear readers. I pray for the rest of you
who are hurting in some way or another. Times are going to get far tougher in our nation
than they already are because of bad leadership in the past and continued political
corruption to this very day. Good, hard-working, innocent people are going to be
destroyed economically. And many of us who have are going to have to share with the
have-nots.
Meantime, I just thank God that I'm still alive and that I have the blessed assurance,
like Job, that I know that I know that I know that MY REDEEMER LIVETH!!!!
I KNOW THAT MY REDEEMER LIVETH!!!!
And I thank God that I'm still alive to scream it to the highest heavens to anybody
who cares to know.
God bless you.
God bless you.
Yeah, I had a fight with doubt the other day. It kept messing with me. So I had to
cuss it out and kick its butt.
Every now and then, every child of God has to fight the good fight of faith and fight
against the principalities of evil. And one of their chief imps is doubt.
As children of God, we are ordained and anointed to walk by faith and not by sight.
Sometimes, sight gets in the way of our blessings. Sometimes, sight leads to fright, which
triggers flight. Sometimes, we freak out over what we see. And when we stop believing
God and start doubting because of what we see or what some naysayer said, it puts us in
hot water with the Lord. And believe me, you don't want to be in hot water with the Lord.
If you don't believe me, then ask Nimrod, ask Pharoah, ask Belshazzar, ask
Nebuchadnezzar or Jezebel or Ahab or Zimri.
Without faith, it is IMPOSSIBLE, read my writing, IMPOSSIBLE!!! to please God.
For he that cometh to God must believe that He is. Yes, first and foremost, before you
get to the unequivocal litany of facts like He IS a doctor in a sick room, He IS a lawyer in
a court room, He IS a bridge over troubled water, He IS a rock in a weary land, He IS a
shelter in the time of storm, etc. Just believe that HE IS.
Yes, God IS. He just IS. For no particular reason. He IS.
God IS. And within the ISNESS of almighty God lies the totality of reality. Thank
you sweet Jesus, rock of my salvation and savior of my soul!
When God called Moses for a job interview on top of Mt. Sinai, the other day, told
him to take off his shoes and socks because the ground he was standing on and the
God he was standing before were too holy for him to be shodded, then spoke to him
through a burning bush and hired him to become the great emancipation instrument for
Israel's exodus out of Egyptian bondage, Moses asked for God's credentials.
Moses felt that once he'd stand before great, big, ol', mean Pharoah and tell him,
"God said to let my people go," that Pharoah would want to know who God was.
So Moses asked God, "Whom shall I say sent me when Pharoah asks me who
You are?"
Well, if you read the same bible I read, you will see where God said in Exodus 3:14,
"Tell him that I am sent you."
And just in case we still want to know who "I am" is, God simply broke it down even
more by saying, "I am that I am."
Yes, God Is. We must believe that He is. And once believing that He is, we can
take it just a little bit further. Among the many, many things that He is, He first and
foremost is a rewarder of them that dilligently seek Him.
That's why, brothers and sisters (and by now it should be apparent to you that
Rev. Lacy J. Banks has sneaked up on you preaching), we are compelled to tell every
sinner man, woman, boy and girl, "Seek ye that Lord, while He may be found. Call ye
upon Him while He is near. Let the wicked forsake his way and the ungodly man his
thoughts and turn unto the Lord. For He will (if we dare repent and ask for mercy)
abundantly pardon."
So I had a fight with doubt, that dastardly chump of a tramp. He dared to invade
my mind with sayings like, "What's taking you so long to die, Banks?" and "If God ain't
healed you by now, don't you know that he ain't goin' to heal you?" and "Man, don't you
feel like a fool praying and praying and blogging and blogging and waiting and waiting
and you still sick and in pain?" and "Aren't you afraid that by going public with your blog
that you are going to end up looking like a fool when God doesn't heal you soon?"
Yeah, these are some of the thoughts that doubt sent knocking on the door of my
sub-conscience. Yeah, there was doubt up to its old tricks again, trying to conquer my
soul, trying to steal my joy, trying to strangle my hope and trying to get me to give in,
give out and give up.
But I knew who doubt was imping for. He was simply serving as an evil emissary
for the devil. So I went ghetto on him. And anybody who knows ghetto anger, knows that
ghetto anger can get mighty fierce because of the mess we have to fight against to stay
alive can be pretty strong. So we fight strength with strength, flesh with flesh and spirit
with spirit.
God wants us to be well, but the devil wants us to be sick.
God wants us to live. That's why He sent and gave Jesus to die that we might live.
But the Devil wants us dead.
God wants us to be happy. The devil wants us to be sad.
Doubt tried to corner Christ Jesus in the wilderness after He had prayed and fasted
for 40 days and 40 nights. Doubt tried to get Jesus to serve Satan and perform tricks and
miracles at Satan's behest.
But each time, Satan tried to slug Jesus, Jesus blocked Satan's punches, bobbed
and weaved and then counter-punched Satan punch-drunk with the Word of God. Then
when Satan started really getting on Jesus' nerves and Jesus got sick and tired of the
devil's mess, Jesus told Satan, "Get behind me." In other words, Jesus told Satan in
modern street lingo, "Man, you'd betta get the heck out of my face! I ain't playin' witchu
now! You betta leave me 'lone 'fo' I hurt you!"
Satan was cruising for a bruising and Jesus bruised him up real good.
And so it is that I also had to tell doubt to get out of my face and leave me alone. I
had to hit Satan and his doubt upside their heads and punch them out with the word of
God. It is the same with you, my sisters and brothers of the Kingdom of God. Sometimes,
we have to stop being so nice to Satan. Sometimes, we not only have to put out feet
down, but take one foot and kick Satan in his butt. For we are winners and not whinners.
For we are more than conquerers. Thank you, Jesus! I said, and hear me real good, we
are more than conquerers through Christ Jesus. And we ought to act more like it more
often.
As redeemed children of God, we don't have to take any of the devil's mess any
more. As redeemed children of the most high Lord God Jehovah, we don't have take any
lip from Lucifer, any more. Naw, baby, we are more than conquerers through Christ Jesus.
We are a chosen generation and a royal priesthood and a holy nation. And we can do all
things through Christ, who strengthens us. So thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory
through Jesus Christ our Lord. For greater is He that is within you and me than he that is
within the world.
So I had to tell the devil to get behind me. I had to put my hands on my hips and
lash Lucifer with my lips and let him know in no uncertain terms that I join Job in
vowing, "I believe I'll wait until my change comes......For I know that my redeemer liveth.....
and though He slay me yet will I trust Him"
Yeah, I had to give doubt a piece of my mind which I got from Christ Jesus in the
first place because I let the mind that is in Jesus be in me. I'm talking about Jesus Christ,
the author and the finisher of the very faith I need to please God and the very faith that I
need to wield power over the devil.
Too many of us let the devil get away with too much in our lives. Too many of us let
the devil punk us around and whimp us out. Too many of us allow ourselves to be
intimidated, manipulated, humiliated and annihilated by the devil and his demons. And
here we are packing power to defeat the devil and keep him at bay. Here we have at our
disposal the instant heavenly deployment of angels, who have charge over us to
deliver us from evil. But oh what peace we often forfeit and oh what needless pains we
bear? All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer.
So I had to tell the devil to shut up and get somewhere and sat his butt down, and
to stop messing with me before I hurt him. Yes, you and I have the power to hurt hell
with the word of God. But we must believe the word, speak the word and do the word.
I know the Lord is going to heal me one way or another, somehow or other, sooner
or later. I know that He is healing me now. Though I sometimes will have some bad
days, my good days outnumber my bad days. My pluses outnumber my minuses. My
victories are overwhelming my defeats.
So no matter how long it takes, I am going to wait upon the Lord and be of good
courage and He is already strengthening my heart. I'm going to wait upon the Lord. For
they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall mount up on wings
of eagles, they shall run and not be weary and they shall walk and not faint.
So wait on Him! Wait on the Lord with me, please! Wait, I say, upon the Lord!
God bless you.
God bless you.
I could have kissed my doctors when they recently told me that they did not believe I
would live out the remaining eight months of this year without a Heartmate II, the latest
and most advanced heart pump that God has blessed scientists to invent.
Really. I know it sounds crazy. But faith in man may make one do one thing and faith
in God may make one do something entirely different.
Yes, I could have kissed my doctors for daring God.
Don't get me wrong. I don't think my doctors meant anything blasphemous when
they gave me what basically amounts to a death sentence. Has any of you ever
received a death sentence like that? I really believe the doctors were being totally honest
in reaching their conclusion based on their scientific data, test results, experience and
knowledge.
For all I know, their faith in God may be stronger than mine. For I will be honest with
you, sisters and brothers, I am not as strong spiritually as many of you think. I am not
bragging about my weaknesses. I am simply being honest in telling you that I, like
everybody else, have some. In fact, in the flesh, I have countless. But God's grace and
mercy and my faith in Him more than compensates.
Many of you readers have joined my wife and family in begging to me "get the
pump!" because you want me to live and you are speaking from the heart. You stop me
on the street and in sports arenas, telephone and e-mail me and say the same.
Yes, I want to live. I dearly want to live. In fact, my desire to live is stronger than my
fear of dying and I can charge that to my faith in God. I believe that I will survive the
end-stage congestive heart failure and my prostate cancer just as my brain tumor has
been diagnosed as benign.
As such, I fear no evil and I feel less ill as days go by. Oh, I am yet sick in terms of
the strength of my heart and what lab tests show. My doctors confirm that and I hear
them loud and clear.
But one way or another, I will win.
It will be healing or heaven.
I will be healed with or without the pump.
So what I am telling you is that my spiritual faith and physical feelings tell me that
I am not in an utterly desperate situation. I have the time and the temperament to wait
on God. I have the luxury of God's grace and mercy to tide me over in the interim.
Now, the way I am doing it is not the way I will tell everybody else to do it. I can't
speak for anybody else's faith in God but my own. And I alone really know how I am
feeling. And, to tell you the truth, I am feeling better as I continue to pray, see my
doctors, take my medicines, pace myself wisely and exercise regularly.
I am not grandstanding, trying to be some superman or pretending to be
bullet-proof. It is highly likely that after I get more information in the next few weeks or
suddenly start feeling bad again that I will call Dr. Valluvan Jeevanandam, Dr. Allen
Anderson, Dr. Jim Flaherty or whoever else and say, "Let's operate as soon as possible!
Give me that pump, for goodness sake!"
But let the record show that I have told you that my doctors have given me fair
warning. So if I drop dead or suffer a crippling stroke or heart attack while still trying to
make up my mind, it is not their fault.
I am fully aware of the dangers they spelled out. I'm dealing, yes, with a deadly
situation. But in his 23rd song, King David sang, "Yea though I walk through the valley of
the valley of death, I will fear no evil for (God is) with me. (His) rod and (His) staff, they
comfort me."
I preached hard twice on Easter weekend and came out of that holy weekend
feeling stronger. While I was taking communion on Good Friday, an old woman came
up to me and chastise me for not being more bold with my faith that God is healing me
or that He already has. Here I am preaching about such faith and being wishy-washy
at the same time. I felt a little guilty. But her point was valid and well taken.
Some Christian fundamentalist feel there is compromise and that one needs not try
to seek a balance between doing what man says and what God says. But Jesus did say
to render unto Cesar the things that are Cesar's and unto God the things that are God's.
As such, we have obligations in both spheres. But at the end of the day, it's my faith in
God that will determine the outcome no matter how I dare to decorate or embroider it
with additional explanations. God is THE HEALER and all HEALING COMES FROM
GOD. Now, can I get a witness?
God bless you.
God bless you.
First, the good news. My latest blood test, taken last week at the University of
Chicago Medical Center, revealed that my PSA reading is down to 1.92, the lowest I can
ever remember it being. This means my prostate cancer continues in remission as a
result of Dr. Brian Moran's implantation of radiation seeds last May 21. My prostate PSA
cancer must be close to nothing to be placed on the heart transplant list and doctors say it
may take another year before I reach an acceptable PSA score.
Now, the bad news. My UCMC cardiology team, headed by the world-renown Dr.
Valluvan Jeevanandam, tell me that I will not likely live out this year unless I undergo an
operation to have a heart pump, particularly an Heartmate II, implanted to do the
pumping that my defective left ventricle and mitral valve are increasingly failing to do as
they continue to deteriorate.
There are eight months left in this year after this month. So the math is easy. I thank
my doctors for being upfront. That's the first thing I told them I wanted coming in.
"Don't play games with me," I said. "Be my doctors and tell me what you see and
what you feel is best for me based on your medical knowledge and skills. We are a
team. I am the CEO in terms of making the decisions."
But, I also told them as I told you: God is my real primary care physician and He
has the last word.
While the right portion of my heart is still reasonably healthy, the poor job being
done by the left portion threatens the well-being of the right. So Dr. Jeevanandam and
Anderson, his right-hand man, strongly urge that I have the heart pump implanted as
soon as possible.
The addition of Isosorbide, Hydralazine and Dobutamine medicines by Dr.
Anderson has relieved me of the shortness of breath and fatigue and enabled my heart
to hold on a little while longer as is. But this relief is said to be short-termed and Dr.
Anderson says he is very pleased that I have done this well this long with the medicines.
"But it's like flogging a dying mule to get some extra work out of it," Dr. Anderson
said candidly and calmly while flashing that occasional funny little grimace on his face.
"And you can flog that mule only so many times until it just can't work anymore."
I'm having fun dying. I jokingly told Dr. Anderson that I took offense to that analogy
because I considered myself to be a horse, even a nice stallion, if you will, instead of a
mule. We laughed. But Dr. Jeevanandam cautions that my current decision to delay the
implantation is no laughing matter.
"If the right side of your heart gets in bad shape and other vital organs get
damaged as your poor circulation worsens, the only thing we may have to offer you then
is hospice," Dr. Jeevanandam said.
Hospice is where they send the terminally ill to try to make their last days as
comfortable and manageable as possible.
Joyce, my wife of 41 years, badly and madly wants me to do whatever I have to do to
stay alive as long as possible. The same for a long-time special prayer partner who
promises to be praying for me several times a day but wishes to remain anonymous.
"I don't want to lose you," Joyce says. "I love you. And if you really love me, you'll do
what you have to do to stay alive."
Wow! What a wife! What a woman!
My daughters, Nicole, Noelle and Natasha, and my brothers Rev. Jimmie Lee Banks
and Rev. Ephthallia Banks, also urge me to have the device implanted. So do others.
But right now, I feel relatively good and I'm still praying to and trusting God to heal
me so that I won't need the pump. So I'm continuing to work and preach as my health
permits.
This Friday at 1 p.m., April 10, I am preaching at Cosmopolitan Community Church,
5249 Wabash, as part of Pastor Henry Hardy's Seven Last Words preachathon for the
33rd straight year. And Sunday afternoon, at 3 p.m., I will be preaching the usher's
anniversary sermon at Liberty Baptist Church, 4849 South King Drive, where Rev. Darrell
Jackson is pastor.
Whether those engagements will be the last times I preach on this side of Heaven
is up to the Lord.
I may change my mind within the next few months. But, I presently have not
decided to have that pump installed. I don't fancy the idea of being tethered up to an AC
cord at home, or a pair of holstered 90-minute capacity batteries when I leave home, to
keep me alive.
Yes, I want to live. And I thank God that I have the sober, sane mind to decide for
myself which way I want to live. And until I either get more information or feel the urgency
to have one implanted, I'm going to keep praying, praising and preaching.
Meantime, this Good Friday, April 10, marks the one-year anniversary when last
April 10, Dr. Jeevanandam, a medical Mozart, who says he has performed more than 650
heart transplants, and his outstanding, celebrated staff had diagnosed me with suffering
end-stage congestive heart failure that required a heart transplant to keep me alive. But I
was quickly disqualified from being a heart transplant candidate when doctors diagnosed
me with brain cancer and prostate cancer.
I immediately went deep into prayer, asked many of you to pray for me and with me
and to watch God heal me. Well, I'm still here holding on to God's unchanging hands.
Since then, I have preached 12 times and covered some 50 pro hockey and college
basketball games, including a half dozen out-of-town assignments as my health permits.
Joyce and I were also able to fulfill our wish of celebrating our 40th wedding
anniversary with a two-week vacation in Hawaii.
God is good, my wife is priceless, loving and longsuffering and beautiful readers
and prayer partners like you have been invaluable sources of hope and encouragement.
Thank you all so much for your continued prayers. And if I am an encouragement to any
of you, please don't thank me. Thank God. To God be the glory, the praise and the
thanksgiving.
My first breakthrough was when further tests, X-rays and examinations revealed that
the tumor on my pituitary gland was benign. So I have been required by doctors to take
one pill a week--Cabergoline .5 mg--to treat that tumor.
"So you can strike brain cancer off your list," Dr. Anderson said.
For my bad back and chronic gout, I also take Colchicine, Allupurinal, Prednisone
and Indomedicin daily. And for my congestive heart failure, I take Correg,
Spironolactone, Lisinopril, Furosemide, K-Dur, Digitek and aspirin daily.
In total, I take an average of 25 pills a day. But the main things that are keeping me
alive is the grace of God, the love of my wife and the prayers of family and friends like
you.
In the next few blogs, I will interview patients who have had the heart pumps
implanted an how it hindered but also helped them tremendously. I am told that the pump
not only will keep me alive but me feel better and be strong enough to do whatever I
could do when I was in the best of health.
God bless you all.
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