
Six years ago, our son Gabe went to the hospital in the middle of the night for the last time. Cancer had overtaken his body, but we hoped and prayed he would have more time with us. As we waited for the ambulance, I read Psalm 121 to him. It starts with a question (and we had a lot of them), “I lift my eyes to the hills, where does my help come from?” and the answer, “My help comes from the...