Personal Reflection

A Cancer Reality Check

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I Married Up

Yesterday Nancy and I spent the morning at the hospital. She was scheduled to have her chemo ports removed.

Early on in what normally is a fairly routine, simple procedure, the doctor discovered that the catheter of the port placed in her abdomen had gotten dislodged somehow. That meant he had to scramble to put some new equipment together so he could go laproscopic for its retrieval. That meant general vs. local anesthetic as well. No big deal except . . .

The doctor asked to see me following the procedure. While scoping for the catheter, he took a quick look around the region. He discovered visible signs of cancer on her diaphragm and at least one other place. He didn’t look everywhere, so we don’t know as of yet how pervasive a threat exists. That was not the purpose of the procedure and he was already overtime for getting to his other cases. He took pictures and even showed them to me. So apparently my previous post regarding her progress was premature.

But I was puzzled. We had acted positively of late based upon the last two blood tests checking her CA-125 levels, which proved to be well in range. I asked him about that. He used the word “meaningless” to describe that test’s significance at this point in the recurrence process. Imagine my shock. Neither Nancy or I ever got that memo. She had started to back off on aspects of her natural protocol thinking she was out of the woods. She is not. He took biopsies in several places to confirm the diagnosis, but I could read it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. He has no doubt. Cancer has grown from microscopic to visible in her body in the last eight months.

Where does that leave us? Nancy has resumed an all-in campaign for morning, noon, and night therapy of the natural kind to battle her cancer. I’m afraid that means she will not be returning anytime soon to a more mainstream pastor’s wife life or to her part-time work out of the house with her supplement customers. Her full-time job for now remains to get well.

We are investigating additional natural methods which have come to our attention. As always, we covet your prayers for healing and the grace to fight the good fight with the joy of the Lord as our strength.

Take That Ovarian Cancer

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It gives me great pleasure to rep0rt that Nancy’s latest blood test (she gets them quarterly now), came back with a CA-125 reading of 19. Above 35 is considered out of range. She remains well within acceptable results to give us confidence that healing from this stupid disease continues. She sees the doctor this week for his take on things. Thanks to all who continue to pray for us as we walk this path of faith. God is good. All the time.

Latest Update on Nancy’s Healing Journey

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Thanks to everyone who continues to pray for my bride as she works her healing regimen in the aftermath of ovarian cancer surgery four months ago. She had her second post-op visit yesterday with the doctor. She continues to heal quite nicely in terms of that procedure. For this we are certainly grateful.

Her physician had, in our estimation, surprisingly little to say about her CA-125 numbers from the blood test in March which showed a significant drop from 268 to 18 (34 or lower is within range). He prescribed another of those tests for three months from now at which time she will see him again to monitor her progress. He advised her that she should have these tests every three months for the next two years, her highest risk time period for recurrence.

Frankly, that’s all there is to report. But we praise God for His faithfulness in answering so many prayers for her recovery. She feels and looks great. Everything she ingests is organic, sugar-free, healthy as can be and its shows.

I joke with folks all the time that I am the only thing toxic in her life!

Gracious Uncertainty

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Gracious-Uncertainty

As I pass the one year anniversary of loss, I return today to the duties that lie nearest. Study, sermon writing, board meeting prep, pastoral care, etc.

Before me lies the uncertainty of Nancy, my bride’s, health and what the rest of 2015 will bring on that front, not to say numerous others.

This good word from Oswald Chambers expresses my desires in moving forward:

Certainty is the mark of the common-sense life: gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, we do not know what a day may bring forth. utmostforhighestThis is generally said with a sigh of sadness, it should be rather an expression of breathless expectation. We are uncertain of the next step, but we are certain of God. Immediately we abandon to God, and do the duty that lies nearest, He packs our life with surprises all the time. When we become advocates of a creed, something dies; we do not believe God, we only believe our belief about Him. Jesus said, “Except ye become as little children.” Spiritual life is the life of a child. We are not uncertain of God, but uncertain of what He is going to do next. If we are only certain in our beliefs, we get dignified and severe and have the ban of finality about our views; but when we are rightly related to God, life is full of spontaneous, joyful uncertainty and expectancy. “Believe also in Me,” said Jesus, not – “Believe certain things about Me.” Leave the whole thing to Him, it is gloriously uncertain how He will come in, but He will come. Remain loyal to Him.

To quote Forrest Gump and perhaps balance things a bit, “I think it’s both.” The virtue of gracious uncertainty which embraces God in the future includes shouts of joy AND sighs of sadness.

Grateful that Ecclesiastes 7:13-14 is in the Book.

BONHOEFFERS MORNING PRAYER

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Dietrich BonhoefferNew Year’s Day, 2015. Time to reflect back in hopes of moving forward.
2014 started miserably with death in January. Grief took up an unwelcome residence in our household. Lesson learned? The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord (Job 1:21).
The year peaked sweetly with blessing in July. Twin grand kids. It doesn’t get much better. Lesson learned? There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2). 
We crash dived hard with sickness in December. Cancer again. But this time attacking the queen. Lesson learned? Being learned? Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything (James 1:4).
Why must it be so hard? How does one press on into another year when the first Friday will bring another doctor’s visit and the prospect of more bad news?
Turn everlastingly Godward.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer did. Imprisoned in Nazi Germany for opposing Hitler’s Third Reich, he wrote his famous treatise, Letters from Prison. It proved a great comfort to me time and again when I read it during my cancer journey in 2005. A friend of mine recently sent me a copy of Bonhoeffer’s Morning Prayer (see below). The German pastor read it to his fellow prisoners that Christmas morning in 1943. My friend wrote a note with it expressing his hope it would strengthen me and Nancy in, as he put it, “this latest chapter in your life.”
It did. It does. Thanks, Mike.
May it do the same for you, dear reader, whatever 2015 brings to your household.
MORNING PRAYER
Christmas, 1943
God, to you I call early in the morning.
Help me pray
And gather my thoughts to yourself
I cannot do it alone.
In me it is dark,
But with you is the light;
I am lonely, but you forsake me not;
I am faint-hearted, but with you is help;
I am restless, but with you is peace;
In me is bitterness, but with you is patience;
I do not understand my way, but
You know the way for me.
Father in Heaven,
Praise and thanks
Be yours for the night’s rest.
Praise and thanks be your for the new day.
Praise and thanks be yours for all your kindness
And faithfulness in my past life.
You have shown me much good,
Let me now receive from your hand
What is hard (emphasis mine).
You will not lay upon me
More than I can bear.
For your children you let all things
Serve for the best.
Lord Jesus Christ,
You were poor
And miserable, captive and forsaken as I am.
You know every need of humans,
You remain with me
When no man stands by me,
You forget me not and seek me,
You will that I recognize you
And turn to you.
Lord, I hear your call and follow,
Help me!
Holy Spirit,
Give me the faith that rescues me from
Despair, addictions, and vice,
Give me the love for God and humans,
That destroys all hate and bitterness,
Give me the hope that frees me from
Fear and despondency.
Holy, merciful God,
My Creator and my Savior,
My Judge and my Deliverer,
You know me and everything I do.
You hate and punish evil in this world
And in the next with no respect of persons;
You forgive sins for the one
Who asks sincerely;
You love good and reward it on this
Earth with a good conscience
And in the world to come
With the crown of righteousness.
Before you I think of all my loved ones,
And of my fellow prisoners, and of all those
Who do their hard service in this house.
Lord, have mercy!
Grant me freedom again,
And let me so live in the present
That I can live responsibly
Before humans.
Lord, whatever else this day brings—
May your name be praised!
Amen.

 

Why I Won’t Stay in the Woods

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Idaho profile

Before long, Lord willing, Nancy and I will return to our beloved refuge in Idaho. I make no bones about the fact that living in Florida leaves me cold. Or should I say hot. I’m no flat lander; I way prefer rugged peaks. So why stay put when paradise beckons?

Easy. I know the answer. But lately I was reminded of it in a more eloquent way than usual. It came in the form of one of the poems in the last neighborhood book club.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
BY ROBERT FROST

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

“But I have promises to keep.” Those words constrain me. They will not let me go.

Jesus said in Matt,. 5:37, “Let your yes be yes and your no be no.” Psalm 15:4 warns, “A righteous man swears to his own hurt and doesn’t change.” Paul declares in 1 Cor. 6:20, “You are not your own; you are bought with a price.” A man is known by his integrity demonstrated in kept commitments.

As much as I love the Pacific Northwest, all my obligations lie on the East Coast. Aging parents, surviving son, grandchildren – including newborn twins, and a flock to shepherd. Lovely, dark, and deep though the woods may be out west, God’s call back east trumps them all.

Does the prospect of evening snowy woods tempt you to ditch your responsibilities? Don’t even think about it. Stop by the occasional forest for sure. Take in the beauty. Enjoy the respite. But keep your promises and finish the miles to go before you sleep and hear words you will never regret from Matt. 25:23: “Well done good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your master.”

Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight

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Lincoln
Just finished my monthly neighborhood book club. My turn to host. My turn to facilitate. My idea what to read – 101 Great American Poems. The La Floresta book club had never traveled down this road before, poetry that is. I took a chance. I made the suggestion as much for my sake as anyone else’s. I have little patience for poetry. I have enough trouble taking time out of my busyness to ponder Scripture let alone pause over verse that makes me scratch my head.
The night went better than I thought it would. Among other things each of us shared a poem with which we connected. I learned a l0t about my neighbors. We laughed. We paused. We felt. We reflected. I think I will try to venture into this genre more often in the future for its various benefits. My choice to read? I learned, by the way, poetry is meant to be read aloud for a proper appreciation.  I could have turned in numerous directions. It struck me how many poets, at least in this connection, wrote about death. I connected for obvious reasons.But this work by Vachel Lindsay (1879-1931) won the prize. Perhaps it was because I couldn’t sleep on Saturday night before a busy Sunday of ministry. I just identified. Occupational hazard.
Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight
(In Springfield, Illinois)
It is portentous, and a thing of state
That here at midnight, in our little town
A mourning figure walks, and will not rest,
Near the old court-house pacing up and down.
Or by his homestead, or in shadowed yards
He lingers where his children used to play,
Or through the market, on the well-worn stones
He stalks until the dawn-stars burn away.
A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black,
A famous high top-hat and plain worn shawl
Make him the quaint great figure that men love,
The prairie-lawyer, master of us all.
He cannot sleep upon his hillside now.
He is among us:—as in times before!
And we who toss and lie awake for long
Breathe deep, and start, to see him pass the door.
His head is bowed. He thinks on men and kings.
Yea, when the sick world cries, how can he sleep?
Too many peasants fight, they know not why,
Too many homesteads in black terror weep.
The sins of all the war-lords burn his heart.

He sees the dreadnaughts scouring every main.
He carries on his shawl-wrapped shoulders now
The bitterness, the folly and the pain.
He cannot rest until a spirit-dawn
Shall come;—the shining hope of Europe free;
The league of sober folk, the Workers’ Earth,
Bringing long peace to Cornland, Alp and Sea.
It breaks his heart that kings must murder still,
That all his hours of travail here for men
Seem yet in vain.   And who will bring white peace
That he may sleep upon his hill again?

Some days I hardly want even to be a pastor. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a president. Lord, have mercy on the Commander-in-Chief as well as the preacher.

The Power of Kindness

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kindness-620

I finished my day today with a visit to my atheist friend’s house in our neighborhood. Regretfully his wife is dying. Cancer has overrun her body, particularly her brain. Stupid disease. The extended family has camped out for the duration. Hospice has coached all concerned about what to expect. Her body is shutting down. It’s only a matter of time. Once again the the specter of death haunts my 2014, though not at my own doorstep in this particular situation. Sigh.

My wife found me a card this morning to express our sentiments. A small potted plant seemed an inadequate but at least well-meant token to present at the door. For thirty minutes I sat with my buddy with whom I have had numerous conversations about the gospel, at least to this point to no avail, along with his son, and just sought to be kind in loving my neighbor as myself and feeling the weight of their grief. At this point, having said just about all I think I can say in numerous lunches, I am banking on the power of kindness to carry the day in my relationship with this man, whether he ever believes in Jesus or not.

The apostle Paul extols the virtues of love in his well-known treatise on the subject in 1 Corinthians 13. As he begins to describe its qualities, he leads off in v. 4 this way: “Love is patient and kind.” While it seems some in my profession can occasionally forget it, and Lord knows I admit my share of failures in this regard, kindness as a virtue simply must characterize any pastor’s way of relating with others at every turn. Consider 2 Tim. 2:24 – “And the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone.” My sincere apologies to every one of you whom I have failed over the years in this respect.

As I was reading this evening a section of Alexander Strauch’s book, Leading with Love, I came across this illustration of the power of kindness. It comes from the life of St. Augustine who, in his book Confessions, testifies to the impact, even in his unconverted days, of the kindness shown him by the renowned preacher and bishop, Ambrose:

300px-Augustine_of_HippoThat “man of God” received me like a father and expressed pleasure at my coming with a kindness most fitting in a bishop. I began to like him, at first indeed not as a teacher of the truth, for I had absolutely no confidence in your Church, but as a human being who was kind to me (Strauch, 2006, 45).

My dear friend has little to no confidence in my church, that is to say, our beliefs. I pray his confidence in my feeble attempts at kindness may one day lead to an Augustine-like transformation in his life.

Someone has said “kindness is love in work clothes.” Let’s get to work.

 

 

A Most Noble Profession

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nurse

This morning, my duties, among other things, took me to a local hospital.

There I visited a woman who survived an intense back surgery the other day. She beamed with joy as she demonstrated her ability to lift her legs without pain, something she could not do a matter of days ago. I rejoiced to find her in such good spirits and such improved circumstances.

Turns out she used to be a nurse (including chemo for a while). We talked about her days on the job. We reminisced together. Not because I ever served as a nurse. But it just so happened that today marks the 9th anniversary of my tongue and neck surgery to remove a cancerous tumor that threatened my life. I shared with my precious sheep just how grateful I was for every nurse that cared for me, not only through my surgery, but also through radiation and chemo treatment. I never found one of them to be anything but patient and thoroughly devoted to their noble calling.

Not surprisingly, the nurse attending my recovering congregant greeted me upon arrival with a smile of her own. She was caring for Teresa even as I arrived. I asked her is she would be kind enough to inquire if it would be OK for me to visit. She assured me she would. Then she walked over to me and said, “We just finished talking about the importance of being equally yoked and now look who shows up, her pastor!” Clearly she shared like precious faith. Angels of mercy abound in this noble profession of patient care.

To every nurse on the job who cares for pastors, congregants, believers, unbelievers, and everyone in between, I/we thank you. Bless you for answering the call and assuming the responsibilities of this most noble profession that is nursing. We need you so much. Bless you for what you do.

Keep calm and carry on.

When Blooming Youth Is Snatched Away

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blooming youth

Few hymns bring me more comfort or more pause in our unexpected loss of our 35 year old son than this classic by Anne Steele, published in The Christian Hymn Book for the Sanctuary and Home (Dayton, Ohio: Christian Publishing Association, 1875).

When blooming youth is snatched away
By death’s resistless hand,
Our hearts the mournful tribute pay
Which pity must demand.

While pity prompts the rising sigh,
O may this truth, impressed
With awful power–I too–must die–
Sing deep in every breast.

Let this vain world engage no more;
Behold the gaping tomb!
It bids us seize the present hour,
To-morrow death may come.

 The voice of this alarming scene,
May every heart obey;
Nor be the heavenly warming vain,
Which calls to watch and pray.

O let us fly, to Jesus fly,
Whose powerful arm can save;
Then shall our hopes ascend on high,
And triumph o’er the grave.

Great God, thy sovereign grace impart,
With cleansing, healing power;
This only can prepare the heart
For death’s surprising hour.