A Family's Fight: Standing with Sarah

There are moments that stop us in our tracks—moments when the fragility of life becomes impossibly real, and all we can do is gather close, hold fast to hope, and pray.

One of our writers is living through one of those moments right now.

His sister Sarah, who had been recovering from a stroke last summer, was recently diagnosed with glioblastoma. What should have been a routine biopsy turned catastrophic when bleeding spread across her brain, requiring emergency surgery to remove part of her skull. She spent days unresponsive in the ICU, her husband Tim and their five children waiting, praying, believing.

And then, something beautiful happened.

Sarah started responding. First, opening and closing her left eye. Then moving her right hand, her thumb, her toes. Small victories that feel like mountains moved. She's off the ventilator now, breathing on her own with just minimal support. No infections. World-class care. And prayers—endless prayers from around the world.

The Beauty of This Family

What strikes me most in all of this is the family itself.

Tim and Sarah have five children. Five. In a world that often questions large families, they chose abundance. They chose the chaos and joy of a full table, the late nights and early mornings, the relentless, exhausting, beautiful work of raising human souls.

And now, in their darkest hour, that abundance is being returned to them—not in ease, but in the outpouring of love and support from everyone who has been touched by their family's light.

My friend and his family dropped everything and drove through the night from their home to Cleveland. No hesitation. No calculation. Just love in motion, the kind that doesn't count the cost or measure the inconvenience.

That's the beauty here. Not in the tragedy, but in the response to it. In the way people rally. In the way faith refuses to bow to fear. In the way hope plants its flag even when the "natural" circumstances look grim.

Fighting in Faith

My friend keeps saying it: "In the natural, it doesn't look promising. But we're not looking to the natural here."

That's not denial. That's warfare.

It's the posture of people who have decided that pessimism—however rational it might seem—will not have the last word. That doctor's reports, while respected, will not define the outcome. That God can still move, still heal, still do the impossible.

They're praying for no infections. For stable blood pressure. For the cancer to disappear entirely before treatment even begins. For Sarah to wake up fully, with her mind intact and her spirit strong. For Tim and the kids to have supernatural strength. For everyone involved to be flooded with faith, not fear.

And they're already seeing answers. Progress where there was none. Response where there was silence. Hope where despair tried to settle in.

Standing With Them

Sometimes all we can do is stand with people in their fight. We can't fix it. We can't speed up the process. We can't remove the pain.

But we can show up. We can pray. We can believe with them when their faith feels fragile. We can help carry the practical burdens—the medical bills, the time away from work, the endless small expenses that pile up during a crisis.

If you'd like to help the family with those practical needs, they've set up a GoFundMe: Help Sarah and Her Family Through This Crisis

But more than anything, they need prayers. Relentless, persistent, audacious prayers. The kind that don't give up when the circumstances are hard. The kind that declare life over death, healing over sickness, hope over despair.

God Be Glorified

My friend keeps ending his updates with the same phrase: "God be glorified."

Not if this turns out well. Not when everything is resolved.

God be glorified—period.

In the fight. In the uncertainty. In the small victories and the long nights. In the love of a family that refuses to let go. In the global body of believers standing in agreement for a miracle.

That's what faith looks like when it's tested. Not blind optimism, but a deliberate choice to honor God in the middle of the storm, trusting that He is good even when life is hard.

Sarah is still in the fight. Her family is still believing. And we get the privilege of standing with them.

Let's keep praying. Let's keep believing. Let's keep declaring that God is still in the business of miracles.

And let's watch Him move.