Please don't take it away...

The freshness of day has dawned. The dew is still lightly wetting the ground which needs no saturation after the rains. The sun shines. Birds chirp. Bunnies hop across my yard searching for their next morsel. These and a thousand other gifts have already been "unwrapped" today.

But their lurks on the horizon, if honesty and transparency are actually in practice, something concerning. Haunting, perhaps.

"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us" (Rom. 8:18). "That I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead" (Phil. 3:10-11).

No one wakes up in the morning and decides to get out of bed because a cold shower and a worthless breakfast awaits. Sure, there is duty in waking, but there is also delight. I know of no one who takes the sound the alarm clock makes (you know the sound, the one that can take you from a peaceful sleep to a racing heart in a matter of seconds) and creates a playlist on their iPod from it just to enjoy. Beds are warm, pillows are soft, covers are gentle and comforting. We set it up that way. We like comfort. Usually, it drives a great portion of our decisions. Not in a "path-of-least-resistance" way but in a "how-can-I-minimize-hardship" way. The crazy thing with comfort is that it provides a blanket of security... or so we think.

The concern that lurks on the horizon for me is that comfort would return. I know what you may be thinking, "Doug, comfort is nice - cushy couch, warm vacations, a nicely grilled burger, a car with no mechanical problems, and health...most of all health - would that not be nice? Is that not what you desire right now?" This is where it gets complicated. You see, the answer is yes and no. Kind of. Let me explain.

Yes, I want this to be over - I want normal. Yes, I desire something that is not constant. Yes, I would love to look at my daughter with hair and have friends over, and not go to clinic and a million other things we used to have.

HOWEVER

Normal is not what has caused us to love Jesus deeply. Comfy couches, well maintained cars, juicy burgers, and health are not the ingredients for perseverance. Predictable and visible are not what comprises HOPE and FAITH. So, while I desire this to be over and have a return to life as we once knew it - with a far greater degree of purpose and intent I don't want it over. I look on the horizon and I see that the removal of trial and suffering brings with it the potential for comfort and that scares me. I want to, as Paul says, "know you in your suffering." He does not say, "I want to know you when you feet were propped up and people served you grapes on a platter in the shade of willow tree."

Maybe you too echo with me this concern: "Lord, don't remove affliction simply because it is hard, give me a reprieve that I might catch my breath before I go deeper into knowing YOU!"

. . . Mortality Matters . . .

"The state of being subject to death." There it is, the most concise definition of mortality that I could find on Dictionary.com. As I watched the first drips of chemotherapy going into Jada's IV today I caught view of the bag in the picture you see to the left. I swallowed hard and realized (yet again) we are not dealing with a flu or a seasonal but pesky cold. We are dealing with a very rare but also very deadly disease. "Alright, God has things under control," I say. Then I turn around just in time to see Dr. McGee. He is the one administering the radiation for Jada's treatment regimen.

He tells me that after the pathology findings Jada has gone from Stage 1 to Stage 2. This information you likely already know. What you may not know is that her chances for a cure decreased with that prognosis from 85% to somewhere in the 70s. Breathe deep Doug, pick up your phone, call your wife and let her know not to be alarmed. Just a few hours have passed since my lovely Jessica and Pierce (the newest addition to our family) visited Jada and already the joy of that has worn off with the sandblaster (forgive the weak metaphor) of unfortunate news, an all too common feeling these last few weeks.

However poor the news two things remain paramount in our thinking: one, Galatians 3:3 indicates that we have begun by the spirit and therefore cannot attain our goal by human effort. The Spirit of God has been with us in a near palpable way since day one - this means, quite simply, that Jessica and I CANNOT attain our goal by our own effort. "What's the goal?" you ask, simple - cling to Christ in faith and have others take note that we have been with Jesus.

Two, mortality matters because it is precisely what God is not. Psalm 90:1-4 says, "¹Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.²Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God. ³You return man to dust and say, "Return, O children of man!" ⁴For a thousand years in your sight are

but as yesterday when it is past, or as a watch in the night."

If we had a God constrained by time as we are - we would not have a God who could comfort us, provide peace, PERFECT wisdom, or even atone for our sins. Its not as though I invite the news which cements Jada's (or for that matter my own) mortality. All I know is that it is YET ANOTHER stream of mercy by which God's character is made manifest to Jess and I.

Goodness has a name and it is "God!"

buckle up

Trenton is a child down the hall who is 8yrs old. We have come to know him as he and Jada will cart their I.V. units behind them down the halls gaining strength (not so much speed) each day. Trenton has a failing liver and just two days ago was rushed into emergency surgery for an exploded gal bladder. Each night his mother and father take shifts staying in the hospital as they have two other children, one of them is Trenton's twin. They are going on 4 weeks and little improvement has happened.

Here is what Jess and I know as are result of what we have experienced so far: unexpected tragedy is unrelenting and exhausting...just ask Trenton. We are only one week and a day into our experience of it and I can say with utter certainty that 18-20 hours of sleep over 8 days is not sufficient for anyone.

But clearly God has used this to show us something and have the building of our faith bless others - but before that happens He must still teach us some very important lessons. The lesson that Jess and I have learned (as if there were only one) so far is this: we are not the only ones going through something difficult, it just feels like it.

Trenton was walking to the end of the hall to meet me, he introduced himself and talked of his pain as though it was commonplace. Immediately my elder sister (Sheri Nafziger) taught me a wonderful lesson... "Its not about you Doug." For when Trenton walked up to me I was still wiping tears from my eyes and thinking of how I needed sleep to cope. My sister, standing next to me immediately put her hand on his head asked him his name and a few details. He obliged and instantly Sheri put her arm around him and said, "do you mind if I pray for you?" "Sure...GO ahead." was the response and she did. In those brief seconds I realized, others have it far worse, and beyond that some folks don't even have the hope of Jesus Christ living in them.

Trial without Christ can equate to a number of different adjectives. Among them are: bitterness, frustration, faithlessness, anger, fear, anxiety, loss of control, etc. Imagine facing a great trial without Christian community to support you and really point your often self-centered mind to Christ. It would be devastating! Jess and my hope is in Christ, not in medicine, or St. Jude's (while we are unbelievably thankful for any and all help we have received). Ultimately it is Jesus who heals and even percentages or statistics bow to that authority.

Oh, by the way, the Lord has seen fit to restore enough health to Jada that she will be sleeping in her own bed on Saturday January the 8th...that is tomorrow! Less than a week after MAJOR surgery she is literally a walking testimony of the grace and mercy of our loving Father.

While we still do not have pathology (the test results which will tells us the next step), the Dr. feels confident that Jada's recovery from surgery can and should happen at home. We are scheduled to return to St. Jude Clinic on Monday to meet with the Dr. and possibly get the pathology. Continue to pray...

Home...closer than you think

The night could not even be remotely synonymous with the term rest, but that is just fine with us. I awoke at the hospital (now day 7) after having slept a total of about 2 or so hours. The Dr. had a constant fluid drip going for Jada to test her only remaining kidney - I am exhausted but can exclaim with confidence that it works well.
When you cannot go home, there are a few things that the LORD provides that let one understand that Home can easily come to them. It has been my habit now for a little while to simply wait until Jada falls asleep, post some pictures on facebook, journal, pray and read. Last night was no exception.
My door had a knock and what I found outside reduced me (and later Jessica) to tears. Graciously, my brother Ed and his daughter Jaylin had flown home from Slovakia. Jada woke at just the right time and upon seeing her cousin (whom she has not seen for a year) she blinked hard twice and a faint smile followed. AMAZING! God cannot put more of a personal touch on his blessing and goodness to us, right?
This morning we awoke to some good news (rather Jada awoke to some good news). "You can have some jello." After having surgery she has basically fasted since Sunday at midnight. She ate like I have seldom seen and my heart leapt with joy.
The day drug on and though Jada would get out of her bed for long stints and go for walks, she complains of significant abdominal pain and cries with each step - it seems healing (both physical and spiritual) is not without its pain.
However strong morphine was, the love of God and the bond of family is stronger. For tonight as the evening drew to a close my sister Jen (the one with a million children who lives in Colorado and is married to fireman Jon) walks in with a couple of her children (Kierra and Jedidiah). Again, I stand in awe of how God has stamped his personal touch on all of these blessings and our hearts continue to be encouraged despite the difficulty of this affliction - and what will likely be a treacherous road ahead.
Romans 6:13 says, "¹³Do not present your members to sin as instruments for unrighteousness, but present yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life, and your members to God as instruments for righteousness." I encourage you to look at that part, "...have been brought from death to life..." When someone ransoms their life for yours you would do ANYTHING for them. The ransom Christ paid for us demands UTTER generosity and humility on our parts, to do less is to tread light and arrogantly on the gift of God.
The offering of ourselves, especially our presence relationally, reflects our heart for the master. In short, Jess and I have some really godly family ALL AROUND us.

New Jammies and a Power Walk

Days are long and painful, but good. Jessica and I are continually searching for things to be thankful for in the midst of this ordeal. They are not hard to find.

Here's one: slowly the staff are getting Jada to be sitting up. That was yesterday. Then this morning at 4:45 they began the task of prepping her for her epidural to be taken out (thus getting rid of numbness and severe pain control). They extracted the epidural and the catheter at the same time. Jada immediately said she had to go to the restroom.

The nurses came, put a bedpan at the end of the bed and scooted Jada to the edge - pointing to the bedpan, they said, "ready to go potty?" Jada took one look at it and said, "I'm not going in that! I want the big potty!" AMAZING - and really how Good has God been during this time?

That said, Jada finished her trip by returning to her bed, walking gingerly and complaining of stomach pain. The nurse told her we were going to continue walking out of the room to the nurse's station. Jada flatly refused, even with tears, and stated emphatically, "my outfit is ugly" (she was in yellow hospital scrubs). The nurse asked if she had new Jammies if she'd take a walk. Jada agreed.

Two hours later, Jammies arrived (thank you Rachel Rumbold and Sonya Hillrich). Jada promptly emptied her bladder and walked to the nurse's station (pictured above). So, moral? Buy Jada Jammies and she'll walk with you. Or maybe its something a little deeper...

Psalm 34:4 says, "I sought the LORD, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears."
Jada literally grabbed my hand and said, "Daddy, I am scared, my belly hurts and I cannot walk." I whispered in her ear, "Jada, Jesus is your strength (the constant refrain from all who whisper in to her sweet ear)." SHE WALKED! What faithfulness our creator has in his heart for those who seek him.

The blessing of Affliction

We approached the pre-operation room with a fair bit of trepidation, who doesn't? But we knew going into that it was going to be a difficult ordeal. "Ok," you say, "its gonna be hard." So, Jessica and I wheel our lovely 5 yr old back to the room and begin to tell her stories. A line of different Dr.s come to see her. You can see it in her eyes and witness her body language. The time is drawing near. Just moments before our daughter goes under the knife to have what later would be known as a "huge" tumor (10 inches x 6 inches) removed she motions for me to come near.

Her tiny little body is covered in blankies and all the comforts we can afford physically while her heart is held up in prayer. As I get right next to her lips - she whispers soft and gently, "Daddy, I don't want to cry." and then she begins to briefly shed a few tears.

Jess and I pray with her, assure her of the Lord's strength in her, and head off to the waiting room. In the next 4.5 hours we worshiped, prayed, cried, read the Word, and kissed doubt, fear and worry goodbye. God's peace enveloped us as we waited to meet with the surgeon.

"Everything went well" was the report - and now we wait for further results of testing (aka, the pathology of the tumor). But the neat part is what follows: Jada woke from surgery and motioned for me to come near again. This time what she whispered warmed my heart further, "I (pant pant pant), LOVE (pant pant), you." Those words made all the tears and all the prayer worth it. But that is not where God desires that it end.

This morning as I sat reading my Bible, and praying while Jada lay asleep and before the onslaught of support (aka - Christian community) came - I had a vision of hope for my daughter (and for that matter, my family).

In Acts 5 the apostles were called into the council and beaten and told not to speak the name of Jesus. I have a vision for my family that says essentially this, "thank you Jesus, that you have counted us worthy of suffering." For it is too easy in times like ours to raise both of hands in anger at God for what appears to be an injustice. But, if we are not careful, having both fists clenched toward the heavens teaches us a one-sided view of suffering and trial. That view, sadly, is all about me (or in this case, Jada). We are encouraged in the Bible to express our anger or frustration with God (clenched fist), but let us not forget to keep the other hand open to receive the blessing from the affliction.

If the Gospel was delivered with great pain to the Lord Jesus (difficult emotionally, and spiritually - not to mention physically) how am I (or Jess, Jada, and Oliver) to expect that God would deliver the truth and depth of the Gospel love he has for me without some level of affliction? The answer: we are not to expect anything less!

In Hebrews 2:10 it says that Christ was made perfect through suffering. You and I are made to resemble Christ MORE as we suffer. Its just not our chosen vehicle.