Faith Facts

• Ludington, Michigan offers a peaceful retreat that reminds Christian travelers of the importance of rest and reflection in God’s creation
• The coastal town provides families with wholesome activities centered on natural beauty and outdoor recreation
• Small-town America destinations like Ludington preserve traditional values and offer alternatives to commercialized tourist traps

Every traveler has a destination they should have visited years earlier. For many Christian families seeking wholesome vacation spots that honor both creation and community, Ludington, Michigan represents exactly that kind of discovery.

This hidden gem along Michigan’s western coastline has quietly maintained its small-town charm while offering breathtaking natural beauty. The town serves as a reminder that some of America’s best destinations don’t require flashy marketing campaigns or corporate development.

Ludington embodies the kind of family-friendly environment that conservative Americans increasingly seek—a place where traditional values still matter and the pace of life allows for genuine connection. The community’s commitment to preserving its heritage while welcoming visitors reflects the balance many faith-centered families desire.

The waterfront setting provides opportunities for families to enjoy God’s creation together, whether walking the shoreline, exploring lighthouses, or simply watching the sunset over Lake Michigan. These simple pleasures often prove more meaningful than expensive theme parks or crowded resorts.

For Christian travelers who prioritize rest, reflection, and quality family time, Ludington offers exactly what our fast-paced culture often lacks. Sometimes the best destinations are the ones we discover later than we should have—but right when we need them most.

Let us know what you think, please share your thoughts in the comments below.

Faith Facts

• A Canadian surrogate mother is being sued by a same-sex couple after she refused their request to abort a baby diagnosed with a cleft lip and possible heart defect.
• The surrogate mother believes she is being punished for standing up for the sanctity of life and refusing to terminate the pregnancy based on a correctable medical condition.
• This case highlights the growing tensions between surrogacy contracts and fundamental pro-life principles, raising critical questions about the commodification of human life.

A Canadian surrogate mother finds herself at the center of a deeply troubling lawsuit after she refused to abort an unborn child diagnosed with a cleft lip and possible heart defect. The woman, who carried the child for a same-sex male couple, is now being sued for her decision to protect the life of the baby she was carrying.

The surrogate mother, whose identity has been kept private, has spoken out about her ordeal, stating that she believes she is being punished for standing up for her convictions and the life of an innocent child.

“They threw me away,” she said, describing how the couple turned on her when she refused to comply with their demand to terminate the pregnancy.

The case raises profound moral and ethical questions about the surrogacy industry and the extent to which contracts can require a woman to abort a baby for reasons that many would consider discriminatory. Cleft lip is a correctable condition that thousands of children are born with each year and go on to live full, healthy lives. The fact that this condition was deemed sufficient grounds for abortion by the intended parents has sparked outrage among pro-life advocates.

This lawsuit represents a disturbing trend in which human life is increasingly treated as a commodity that can be disposed of if it does not meet certain specifications. The surrogate’s refusal to abort stands as a powerful testament to the inherent dignity and value of every human life, regardless of physical imperfections.

The legal battle also highlights the moral complexities of surrogacy arrangements, particularly when they involve parties with fundamentally different views on the sanctity of life. While surrogacy contracts often include provisions about selective reduction or termination, this case demonstrates the human cost when those abstract clauses meet the reality of a living, growing child.

Pro-life organizations have rallied around the surrogate mother, praising her courage in standing up for the unborn child despite facing legal and financial consequences. Her decision embodies the principle that every life is precious and worthy of protection, a cornerstone of Christian faith and conservative values.

The outcome of this lawsuit could have far-reaching implications for the surrogacy industry in Canada and beyond. It forces society to confront uncomfortable questions about whether contracts should have the power to compel abortion and whether certain lives are considered less valuable based on medical diagnoses.

For many in the faith community, this case serves as a stark reminder of the importance of defending life at every stage and under every circumstance. The surrogate’s willingness to sacrifice her own comfort and security to protect an innocent child reflects the highest calling of Christian compassion and moral courage.

Let us know what you think, please share your thoughts in the comments below.

Faith Facts

• Steve Lackmeyer, an award-winning Oklahoma journalist and man of faith, survived pancreatic cancer after early detection led to a successful Whipple procedure
• The complex seven-hour surgery, performed by transplant surgeons, removed all traces of cancer — a result Lackmeyer calls a miracle
• Despite frustrations with organized religion, Lackmeyer’s faith in God strengthened profoundly through his cancer journey and recovery

OKLAHOMA CITY — It’s a call you never want to receive.

“I’ve got cancer,” your loved one says. Not only that, but it’s pancreatic cancer — often a death sentence.

Immediately, your brain goes into a fog.

The person on the line was Steve Lackmeyer, a happily married father of two and one of my best and oldest friends.

Both journalism majors, we met as students at Oklahoma Christian University in the late 1980s. For four years, we worked late nights together at the student newspaper The Talon, covering everything from tuition hikes to presidential campaign rallies.

My junior year, I worked up the nerve to ask out a smart, gorgeous freshman named Tamie. To my shock and delight, she said yes.

The only problem: My brother, Scott, was headed home to Texas that weekend and taking our shared 1984 Ford LTD station wagon with him.

Enter Lackmeyer: He knew geeks like us didn’t land dates with girls like Tamie often. So he loaned me his blue 1986 Hyundai Excel that Friday night. I mention the car’s color because it — like my future bride’s smile and everything else about that night — remains etched in my memory.

Tamie and I celebrated our 36th wedding anniversary this spring.

Lackmeyer is one of the few people who remember that Tamie and I adopted the pet name “Slush Puppie” for each other. From time to time, he still razzes us about it.

One year at Oklahoma Christian, Lackmeyer roomed with David Duncan, now the preaching minister for the Memorial Church of Christ in Houston.

Even back then, Lackmeyer’s healthy journalistic skepticism impressed Duncan.

“Steve always makes me smile because he never takes anything at face value,” Duncan said.

“He always assumes there may be a story behind the story. Listening to him brainstorm those possible angles was a lot of fun in college because nothing was off the table. He would consider every possibility, no matter how serious or absurd. It was always fun even when dealing with difficult issues.”

The C-word

Since 1990, Lackmeyer has worked as a reporter and editor for The Oklahoman, Oklahoma City’s daily newspaper.

He has won numerous awards for his coverage, from the 1995 federal building bombing to the city’s downtown revitalization to its courting of the NBA. He has written seven books about Oklahoma City history and was inducted into the Oklahoma Journalism Hall of Fame in 2022.

If this wasn’t a serious column, I’d point out that Lackmeyer also has done humorous things like — early in his Oklahoman career — offer to take this writer behind the scenes of the nighttime cops beat and then lock his keys in the company car at a gang shooting scene. Suffice it to say that the late, great city editor Gene Triplett was not happy with my friend that night.

But I digress.

Back to the important stuff: Lackmeyer met his own out-of-his-league bride, Wendy, in 1995 and married her in 1998.

The couple later fostered and adopted two abused boys through the Oklahoma Department of Human Services. Their younger son, whom my friend calls “Squirrel” on social media, is now 21. He has developmental disabilities but is the kindest, politest young man you could ever hope to meet.

While Lackmeyer and I are both extremely busy with life and work, we catch up at least every few months over a meal or a movie or maybe a Thunder game.

But when he left a voicemail for me in late April, I couldn’t help but notice the serious tone in his voice.

I called him back immediately, and that’s when he uttered the C-word.

Expired warranty

Lackmeyer explained that he’d been working hard — nothing new there — and pursuing stories such as an “America at 250” piece on the global retail giant Walmart.

His reporting trip to Walmart’s Bentonville, Ark., headquarters for USA Today — The Oklahoman is a part of its national network — left him feeling extremely tired. He turned 60 at the end of March.

“I guess that’s when your warranty expires,” he joked.

Besides fatigue, symptoms including jaundice and itchiness made it clear he needed to see a doctor.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, he had experienced severe nausea and stomach pain but delayed seeking medical attention until almost too late. The surgeon who removed his gallbladder warned him not to make that mistake again.

This time, a bile duct obstruction seemed to be the problem, and an outpatient surgery was scheduled.

“One theory was, ‘Maybe it’s a stray gallstone that stayed behind when the gallbladder was removed,'” Lackmeyer said.

But actually, a mass — a cancerous one — was pressing against his bile duct and pancreas, the surgery found.

A major reason pancreatic cancer is so deadly: It usually doesn’t cause symptoms in the early stages, as the Cleveland Clinic notes. By the time it’s discovered, it’s frequently too late to treat.

“But that’s not what happened here,” my friend told me.

“Because it was pressing against the bile duct, it gave me an early warning.”

More precisely, it gave him a chance — but no guarantee — to survive, he shared in our initial call.

After that, he began undergoing tests to see if he might qualify for a Whipple procedure, also called a pancreaticoduodenectomy. It’s a complex operation that can have serious risks but often saves lives, according to the Mayo Clinic.

In recent years, exercise and medication have helped my friend lose 200 pounds and drastically improve his physical health. Still, the medical team needed to make sure his heart could handle such an operation.

By early June, he got the official word: His surgery was a go.

“I realize that I’m extremely blessed to have this opportunity … to have a good chance of a positive outcome,” he said as we headed to see “Project Hail Mary” about a week before the operation.

“But there are times when I don’t sleep well,” he acknowledged.

“There are times when I’ve got bad dreams. I’m not going to say I’ve not cried or gotten edgy at times, but I’m trying to be very positive. I’m blessed to have a great group of friends.”

One of those friends — Duncan, his old roommate — called and prayed on the phone with Lackmeyer.

The call happened while Lackmeyer was sitting in a Home Depot parking lot. After the amen, he went to smell the flowers inside the home improvement retailer.

While in the Home Depot, he heard Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds (Don’t Worry About A Thing)” playing.

He took it as a sign.

Complicated faith

Cancer has a way of making a man contemplate his own mortality.

My friend is no exception.

When I mentioned — before the surgery — that I might write a column about him and needed to confirm a few details, he quipped, “Oh, this is going to be one really cool obituary.”

“It’s not an obituary,” I replied with a laugh.

“It’s a living legacy.”

Lackmeyer believes in Jesus and has been baptized. He has read the Bible “inside and out,” as he described it to me. But he has a complicated relationship with organized Christianity.

He’s fed up with churches on the right and the left.

“You always end up with culture wars and politics, and that’s not what I’m looking for in a church,” he said.

“I don’t know how my relationship with God is helped with a church that is just hateful or judgmental.”

Still, he has faith in God.

Strong faith.

On the day before the operation, I initiated a three-person call with Lackmeyer and Duncan. Duncan prayed again for our friend and assured him God’s will would be done, no matter the outcome. I might have shed a few silent tears on my end.

The June 10 surgery lasted seven hours. Doctors declared it a success. Still, Lackmeyer would need to spend 26 nights in the hospital. And his journey back to full health would not be over even then.

“Recovery is far more brutal (and) slow than anticipated,” he wrote on Facebook a week and a half after the operation.

‘It is a miracle’

On one of my visits to the hospital, I asked Lackmeyer if his cancer experience had strengthened or weakened his faith.

It’s definitely strengthened it, he replied without hesitation.

“You’ve got a friend who two months ago was facing a potential death sentence with pancreatic cancer,” he said, “and now I’m free of cancer.”

That’s right: His doctor informed him last week that his cancer is gone. The Whipple procedure was a 100 percent success.

“It is a miracle,” Lackmeyer said.

“I mean, God has created these intricate bodies that we have, but at the same time, he has provided men of science, men of medicine, to work miracles, to rewire an engine literally.”

“And that’s what happened with me,” he added.

“I mean, the Whipple is no easy thing. It’s done by transplant surgeons. Those are top of the game. They’re removing things, they’re cutting out pieces of organs, and they’re connecting things to work differently than they did. I mean, that’s amazing.”

Definitely amazing.

Sometimes the call you never want to receive has a happy ending.

Let us know what you think, please share your thoughts in the comments below.