Knox - An Eternal Weight of Glory

Happy Birthday, Knox.

Today Is My Middle Son’s 5th Birthday — What a Miracle.

Happy Birthday, Knox.

Let me share a small part of his story.

A little over five years ago, I was serving as an associate pastor in a church that had just lost its second senior pastor in two years. In that season of uncertainty, I was asked to preach and lead. I prayed—hard. The Lord pointed me to 2 Corinthians 4 and impressed one message on my heart: prepare the church to suffer.

I had no idea I would be the one who needed that verse most.

“For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.”
— 2 Corinthians 4:17, ESV

Around that same time, I received a call asking if I would allow my name to be considered as pastor of Lake Mystic Baptist Church. After prayer, I said yes. That was February 2020. One month later, the world shut down. COVID brought leadership challenges none of us could have anticipated.

Then, in the middle of everything, my wife and I learned we were expecting our second child. Because of our history of pregnancy loss, the pregnancy was considered high risk, and weekly scans became normal. During one appointment, the doctors detected a VSD—a small hole in our baby’s heart—but assured us it often resolves without complication.

Knox was born on November 16th after a chaotic delivery that threatened both his life and my wife’s. In the recovery room, holding him for the first time, my heart exploded with love. With every child God can preform the miracle of expanding your capacity to love.

Before discharge, we requested a cardiology check. The doctor heard a faint murmur but told us not to worry and to follow up in a month. Because I was scheduled to graduate with my master’s then, we asked for an earlier appointment. They agreed.

My wife took Knox to that appointment while I stayed home with our toddler. A few hours later, my phone rang. Her voice was tight:

“They said we need to come home, pack our bags, and drive to Wolfson’s Children’s Hospital. He’s going to need open-heart surgery today.”

That call began our first hospital stay.

We spent the next month in the pediatric CVICU. Instead of immediate surgery, the medical team paused and debated the best path. During rounds we kept hearing terms new to us: Williams Syndrome… coarctation of the aorta… stop focusing on the VSD. Every word sent us into frantic research just to grasp what the doctors were saying about our son.

Knox eventually underwent open-heart surgery, and by God’s mercy, he survived.

A few months later, he faced what was supposed to be a simple procedure. But for children with Williams Syndrome, no procedure is simple. Any use of anesthesia carries nearly a 50% chance of cardiac arrest. Knox died on the operating table—and died several more times in the weeks that followed. He spent the next three months fighting for his life. More than once, doctors told us to go ahead and say our goodbyes because he would not survive.

But he did.

Over the past five years, Knox has fought harder than anyone I’ve ever known. And through his fight, we have watched miracle after miracle unfold. I have more joy because Knox exists than if he had never been born. His life has expanded our joy beyond anything we imagined.

This is why 2 Corinthians 4 has become my anchor. God allows His people to suffer, but the eternal weight of glory He is preparing far outweighs what we face now. I believe this—not because I’ve seen eternity—but because I’ve seen the glimpses of glory He gives us here. Knox is one of them.

Sin, darkness, and death were not created by God; they are the consequence of a fallen world. Yet God is not powerless within that brokenness. The cross proves this. The darkest moment in human history—the death of Christ—became the brightest burst of light the world has ever known.

God does not abandon His children in the dark. He transforms the darkness into a backdrop against which His glory shines all the brighter.

And Knox—our miracle boy—is living proof that God is real and still shining His light.