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By Marie Harrison

While my daughter and husband were in Washington, D.C., last week for my daughter to take part in a clinical drug trial, they received an interesting lunch offer. The head of the advocacy group, FARA, that works to secure funding and advance medical research for my daughter’s rare disease, wanted to take my daughter and the other young lady who was there for the trial as well out to lunch.

It’s not every day that the cofounder and director of a powerful advocacy board wants to take you to lunch, so my daughter and husband jumped at the chance. Throughout the course of their lunch, they learned why this former West Point graduate and CIA analyst had chosen to invest so much of his time and energy into fighting for a cure for Friedreich’s Ataxia; he had lost a son to this horrible disease. Over the years, though, Ron Bartek had turned his grief and heartache into action.

My husband was impressed at Bartek’s breadth of knowledge concerning the science behind the disease and the various experimental trials currently underway, he was amazed at the connections this man had made with both governmental agencies and doctors and scientists, but most of all, my daughter was moved by this man’s passion.

Having already lost a child to FA, Bartek was undoubtedly passionate about finding a cure and providing hope for these newly diagnosed children. It was obvious from talking with him and his wife, even for just a few short hours over lunch, that they both cared deeply for the FA community and were devoted to doing all that they could to help others. Here was someone trained with an intelligence and foreign policy background who now sits on the boards of the FDA, the National Institute of Health and countless other medical advisory boards relentlessly fighting for recognition for this rare disease and funding to help advance a cure.

After the lunch, my daughter and husband both came away with a hope and optimism that wasn’t there before. Why? Because there was someone fighting and advocating for them, someone speaking for them when they couldn’t, someone pleading their case and providing help.

As I thought more about this lunch and the role that Bartek and FARA play in advocating for the rare disease community, I couldn’t help but see the parallels with Jesus. In our own human weakness, we can’t go to God, cleansed of our sins by our own works. We need an advocate, someone to take on our cause and provide hope and cure for our sinful condition.

That’s exactly what Jesus did. He was our perfect advocate. Living a sinless life, dying on the cross to take our punishment, bearing our pains as His own, and ultimately, advocating to the Father for each one of us, making a way for us to have our sins cleansed forever and a home in eternity. What we couldn’t do on our own, Jesus came in and made a way. In a fight that looked impossible to win, Jesus made a way. In all things, Jesus is our way and our advocate.

While my daughter battles her disease and the daily toll it takes on her life, she rests in the confidence and assurance that others are advocating for her, and working on a cure. What she can’t do on her own, she trusts her advocates to do for her. But ultimately, she knows that her greatest advocate isn’t found here on Earth.

While Bartek and all of those working at FARA do a wonderful job working on a cure for FA, ultimately, my daughter’s greatest advocate lies in heaven. God the Son who came to Earth and died for her, and you, to make a way for the ultimate cleansing and healing. An advocate who willingly stepped in and bore our punishment, all out of love, and passion, to find a cure for our sinful condition.

Aren’t we all lucky that we can count Jesus as our own personal advocate? Someone who works tirelessly and relentlessly to cure us all, someone who loves unconditionally and advocates fiercely for our place in heaven with Him someday, someone who did what we alone could not do. An advocate with a different kind of name; Savior.