Arthur Gordon's Testimony in his own words
AN OPEN DOOR
Life As A Paralytic Described
By Arthur E. Gordon
"A great door and effectual is opened unto me, and there are many adversaries"
(I Cor. 16:9)
I had often heard and quoted and occasionally preached Romans 8:28. I knew that "all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose," but I had never experienced this in adversity. I was to be trained in this school, however, and to find in it an open door to service never dreamed of. Let's go back a few years to pick up the story.
I was reared in a Christian home, attended a gospel church. However, my life was one of hypocrisy until I was about 19. The change in my life took place in January, 1945, aboard a troop transport somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean. We were four days out of New York, headed for the German battlefront, when God's Spirit caused me to realize my awful condition. That Liberty Ship became for me an altar where I found true liberty in Christ Jesus, as I surrendered to him. This was the beginning of new things.
Back in the States after the war, the Lord led me to Bible school, college and seminary. Schooldays all done and the duties of a student pastorate terminated, my wife and I, with our three children moved to a pastorate in Ohio. For eleven weeks we kept busy with the many demands of such a work. Then the unexpected happened--adversity came in like a flood, literally sweeping us off our feet. At the time we didn't recognize it, but succeeding months proved that this was actually "a door . . . opened unto me of the Lord."
The headlines of a Cincinnati newspaper (Aug. 22, 1955) told the story: FATHER OF 2 POLIO VICTIMS IS STRICKEN BY SAME DISEASE. Jack, our oldest, and Joyce our youngest, were admitted to the hospital on August 15. I was admitted a week later. James didn't have to be hospitalized, and Marilynn was spared to act as chief consoler for her family. The children recovered quickly, but my muscles refused to respond.
Lying entombed in an iron lung can be a frightening experience. One is prone to wonder "Why?" I was no exception. However, just when I needed it most, the Lord brought to mind a Scripture text which had been memorized years before. "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths" (Prov. 3:5,6). This word from God gave me reassurance. I began to acknowledge Him, and He has directed our paths from that time till this.
The months sped by. I graduated from the iron lung to a portable respirator and oscillating (rocking) bed. I was taught glossopharyngeal breathing, or, as it was nicknamed, "frog-breathing." This allowed me some freedom from the respirator and from anxiety. Frog-breathing consists of trapping air in the mouth and forcing it with a pump-like motion of the tongue and pharynx down through the windpipe into the lungs. This is not involuntary as is normal breathing, and is quite tiring, thus the respirator must always be resorted to.
Eventually I was transferred to a rehabilitation center, where I found new hope for my totally paralyzed body. I discovered that a stick held in the mouth, could become in many ways a substitute for paralyzed hands and arms. I found that a motor-driven wheelchair, could very well take the place of paralyzed legs and feet. I had already learned that a machine could become a substitute (a lifesaving substitute) for the diaphragm. Now it remained only for my wife, my parents, and me (chief overseer) to arrange our home for maximum use of my new arms and legs and diaphragm.
We had a switchboard installed within easy reach of my "magic wand" (the name given my mouthstick by one of my correspondents). The six electric, pushbutton switches enable me to turn on and off the light, radio, typewriter, etc. The typewriter was given to me by a large company which manufactures typewriters. They had it specially made for my needs. The platen accommodates a continuous supply of paper which allows me to type page after page, as long as I wish, without assistance. The paper comes perforated so it may be torn into individual regular-sized sheets. My father made a table for the typewriter which holds it at the proper height and angle for my stick.
A special phone was installed. I press the "on" button to dial the number and place the call, and the "off" button to conclude it. A mike on the phone picks up my voice and a loudspeaker brings the voice of the other party into the room.
Reading has become very enjoyable as a result of a small "pulpit" which rests on the arms of my wheelchair directly in front of me. With the rubber-tipped mouthstick I can turn the pages of books and magazines quite easily. Sometimes I need a helping hand from a member of the family.
The motorized chair has been a very important piece of equipment in this set-up. It carries me to all of the special apparatus and gives me access to four rooms in our house. I operate the chair by pushing a lever with my chin.
For some time the portable respirator presented a problem. How could I enjoy a motorized chair when the breathing unit restricted me to one spot? Necessity again became the mother of invention when we found a way to attach the respirator behind the chair. But the electric cord to the breathing unit became our next problem, and I frequently had to be untangled. We purchased a retractable reel with thirty feet of cord and hung it overhead in about the middle of the house. This gave me plenty of carefree driving room.
To breathe during the day I used the portable respirator. At night I used the rocking bed. Both of these utilize gravity. The respirator inflates and deflates a rubber bladder inside a belt-like cuirass which is strapped to my stomach. When it inflates, the air is forced out of my lungs and when it deflates, air is drawn into my lungs. The bed rocks much like a child's see-saw, first foot down and then head down. When the foot goes down, air is drawn into my lungs, when the head goes down, air is forced out of my lungs. Despite what you may think, this allows for a comfortable night's sleep.
My wife transports me from bed to chair and vice versa with a hydraulic lift. This piece of equipment takes the place of two strong men, and may mean the difference between staying in the hospital and going home. My seat, while being transported, is a large square of nylon which is clamped to the long arm of the lift. A handle pumps the arm up and a small lever lowers it. Whether being placed in bed, the chair, or the bathtub, the hydraulic lift saves many a strained back (both of patient and attendant). Frog-breathing comes in handy during these times of transfer.
When I go for a ride, the house current is forsaken for a 12 volt battery which powers the portable respirator. Because our porch is high off the ground, my father constructed an elevator which operates electrically with a two-way switch. A ramp goes from the elevator to the edge of our yard, and is just the height of the floor in our Volkswagen Microbus. When the bus is in position, and the double doors are open, I can be wheeled into it very easily, chair and all. The world looked quite different to me the first time I ventured out, after being shut in for several months.
The Lord has been very good in allowing me these wonderful conveniences. With my substitute diaphragm, legs, and arms, I found I wasn't so handicapped after all. A whole new world of service opened up before me. Paul might have called it, "a great door and effectual."
Many people encouraged me to write for publication. I had never done this before, and was hesitant, but decided to give it a try. You can imagine my joy when I received word that my first manuscript had been accepted and would be in print soon. After this I enrolled in a correspondence course on writing and was more or less officially on my way to a writing career.
My new aspirations to write materialized dramatically in August of 1957 (just two years after our first encounter with the "adversary"), in the form of a six-page, mimeographed, monthly devotional called "TRIUMPH." The original mailing list consisted of 800 names taken from cards and letters which were sent to me in the hospital. August of '59, TRIUMPH's second anniversary, showed a mailing list of 3500 and a new printed format. At present (1971) the mailing list has over 4500.
The name for our paper was taken from Second Corinthians 2:14; "Now thanks be unto God, who always causeth us to triumph in Christ . . . " TRIUMPH is my favorite project, but my magic wand finds other things to do also. I write an article each week for a local newspaper. I have five tracts in print. Sometimes I type things for other people.
Definitely, this door was opened unto us of the Lord, and, although there were (and are) many adversaries, by God's grace it has become effectual. It is a ministry of comfort and salvation. Many hundreds have written telling of blessings received.
Sometimes I cry "Lord take this cup from me!" but I must always add: "nevertheless, if Thy name cannot be glorified except I drink it, Thy will be done."
