Several days have passed since blog posts. How pastors who do it every day keep up with it, I’ll never know.
The gist of my journal entries from the last week of August ’05 sound very much alike. The last chemo blast took a huge toll. The worst of it came with my bloated, bloody, scab covered lower lip. I looked so terrible that we didn’t allow our three grandchildren to come back to the bedroom to see me while they visited for the youngest’s birthday party.
This from 9.1.05:
I doubt few things will ever rival this healing process for its seemingly endless nature. Another long night. Scabs all over my swollen lower lip. None seem to want to loosen without bleeding. I think I still have radiation sores in my mouth. If anything should teach me patience, this process should. [And it did.] I watched “The Passion” for the second time. A reminder that my suffering is minimal compared to what my Savior endured for me. I continue to take comfort in the fact that each calendar day that passes puts me one step closer to return to a normal life – assuming cancer is gone. What a huge question that is! Only God has the answer. My times are in His hands.
Thank you for sharing your journey through your suffering. Although my heart sinks while reading your entries (then rejoices in thinking of your healing), I am given yet another great example of a man who seeks to glorify God in the midst of severe suffering. What a valuable real-life lesson of sincere, not shallow, faith!
“A reminder that my suffering is minimal compared to what my Savior endured for me.”
This sentence alone preaches a hundred sermons to me. How precious is the love of God, that in the midst of what seems to be the worst possible pain or suffering imaginable, we are able to look upon our Savior who bore the wrath of God on our behalf. “Hallelujah for the blood of the lamb who was slain!”
Thank you, PC.
No, sir, thank you. You make me want to be a better pastor.