While working at the computer, I felt an unusual tightness in my neck.  I felt around but could not find anything, I walked to the office bathroom and looked in the mirror, there it was, just above my collar bone--a lump.

 My mind immediately raced to memories of John Black.  He was a member of a church I served two parishes ago.  I could hear his raspy voice in my mind.  Did I have cancer of the Larynx like John?  Would I lose my voice too?

 In that ten seconds, I discovered a lump, diagnosed my malady, resigned from my job and visualized my funeral.  My eyes shifted from my throat to my eyes;  I saw a terrorized, scared man looking back at me.

 Two days later, I visited my doctor.  He assured me that I did not have cancer of the Larynx, if it were cancer at all, it was in my Thyroid.  "If you have to have a cancer, that is the kind to have,"  he said, "It is the most curable."

 I felt some relief.  The worse that could happen to me was a little surgery.  I'd keep my voice, and continue my ministry.  We scheduled the surgery for the next Wednesday and left for home, not knowing what laid ahead.

 I emerged through a foggy reality into a cold, unfamiliar room.  I was hurting and struggling for breath.  I tried to speak, but nothing came out.  I lifted my right arm from the blanket and moved it around.  Soon, I felt the warmth of a stranger's hand.  "You are OK, Mr. Wilson, the surgery went great, your wife is anxious to see you."

 Thirty minutes later, they rolled me back to my room.  Susan was there to greet me with a great big smile.  "Was there any nerve damage?"  I whispered, "What did the doctor say?  Will my voice return?"  "He does not know yet, he will know more tomorrow."

 The next day the anesthesiologist was the first doctor to come by the room.  "How are you doing Dr. Wilson?"  "I can't talk!" I said in a raspy whisper.  "Do you mean it hurts to talk?"  "No," I screamed, "I can't talk!"  Shock appeared on her face, she began to fumble with her chart, said something about maybe it is temporary and left the room without saying goodbye.
 I was getting nervous;  I didn't like the look on her face.  She knows something!  What happened in that operating room?  We would know in a little while, the surgeon said he would be here before noon.

 We waited for the surgeon, but he did not come.  Lunch came, but the surgeon didn't.  Dinner came, but the surgeon didn't.  Finally, we called his office.  I began thinking the worse; something is wrong and he is afraid to face me!  That is why he is late. 

 Finally the surgeon arrived.  I saw the disappointment on his face when I whispered "Hi Doctor."  Sitting on the side of my hospital bed, the doctor tried to explain why I couldn’t speak above a whisper.  During the surgery to remove my cancerous thyroid, he tapped on my recurrent laryngeal nerve, thinking it was fatty tissue.  The assistant surgeon assured the doctor it was not the nerve and advised he cut it.  Twice he asked for an instrument to sever the structure, but when he tried, his hand froze.  Because he tapped on the nerve, it no longer transmitted the signal from the brain to the vocal cord, leaving my right vocal cord paralyzed.
 "But doctor, I'm a preacher, what do I do without a voice?"

 I stared into my Doctor's eyes.  "Will my voice come back?"  He blinked and looked away. "I don't know, maybe,  since I didn’t cut the nerve,  normal function could return in a few months, or it could be permanent.” Suddenly my theology and this bizarre reality rammed together, full force, in a head on collision.  In that moment I had more questions than answers.  Will I ever preach again?  How will I earn a living?  What about my family?  WHERE ARE YOU GOD?

 That night I lay in bed as a thick silence surrounded me.  "God, I'm over here," I prayed.  "Are you watching?  Why are You doing this to me?  Why don’t You heal me?" 

 God’s people were good to me.  The church supported me and preachers from the Baptist Building filled my pulpit as I waited for my healing. 

 My wife and my mother were my greatest encouragers throughout the ordeal, they pumped me with hope and calmed me during my soul seizures.  I worried about paying the bills, the welfare of the church and my future.  Susan never worried.  “Everything is going to be fine,” she’d say.  “God will take care of us.”    Her strength buttressed my crumbling faith. “God will heal you,” my mother said, “He wouldn’t call you to preach without supplying you a voice.”  These words were my lifeline, I held to them like a drowning man.

 Clearly, God’s hand kept the surgeon from cutting the nerve and I fully expected to get my voice back.   Every morning when I awoke, I said “I love you, Susan.”  When the words came out in a whisper instead of a normal voice, I swallowed and thought, tomorrow--tomorrow will be the day.  My miracle will come. 

 Tomorrow never came.  I was confused the day I checked into the hospital for additional surgery to correct the problem.  God where are You and why didn’t You heal me?
 Immediately after the surgery, my voice was strong, but after the swelling went down, I was left with a course, breathy voice that projected slightly above a whisper.  With every day it got weaker--and I grew more confused.  Though the congregation encouraged me, I knew I was no longer a good preacher.  My voice was too weak.

 After a third surgery, I have a near-normal voice and usually have a strong preaching voice.  Though I thanked God for giving Dr. Netterville the skill to heal me, I still wondered why God didn’t intervene.  That is until a comment the doctor made during a checkup.  “Your nerve is transmitting enough signal that the vocal cord is staying healthy--not enough that it can ever move again, but enough to give a rich sound when supported by the silicone implant.”  “Dr. Neterville,” I asked, “what would my voice sound like if the surgeon had cut the nerve instead of tap it?”  I heard his voice and God’s at the same time.  He said, “Your voice would have always sounded hoarse,” and God said, “See, you got your miracle after all.”

 Read the longer version of this article that appeared in Christianity Today's LEADERSHIP JOURNAL.