The do-ability of Obedience

Each morning we awake and go through the same routine that about 64 million (according to recent data) other school aged children and families go through. We get out of bed, put our pants on one leg at a time, eat breakfast, brush our teeth and head out the door. However, there's just one problem with this picture - we (as a people of God) were not called to be just a number. Sure, we must participate in this race like oversized rats running from one place to another - but there is great purpose and intentionality here for the one with eyes of faith.

How is it then, if we know we are called to so much more than minutia, do we miss the boat so-to-speak?

The other day I loaded Jada in the van to go to school. The conversation is usually rich on those mornings. About half way there I begin to pose questions about how she will interact with her peers that day at school, etc. We had been studying Colossians 3:1-4 that morning and had made some accompanying motions to have it "stick." As we were going over these motions and discussing the meaning of "setting your mind" we arrived at school. I dropped off Jada and headed home.

Three hours passed and I returned to pick up Jada at Maria Imig's house (thank you SO MUCH Maria). She hopped in the car and whipped out her journal. She carries a little notepad with doodlings of a six year old on her person every school day. This week she had been writing "poems" that are made into songs later on the piano at home. I glanced in the back seat and said, "Jada, what are you working on?" She reads what is posted above (Here is the translation if you can't read it: "Jesus is great, Jesus is good. He helps me just like God. We try to obey but we need help from Jesus. We can't do it ourselves, Jesus is our helper. He helps us obey him."

Now, before you are tempted to think this is an exaltation of Jada and her spiritual musings or Doug and Jessica's parenting skills - let me stop you IMMEDIATELY. The reason this little poem hit square in the heart was what I didn't share which happened just before we all loaded up in the car.  We were running late through a combination of individual shortcomings of both Jada and I. We got to the door to leave and Jada "had to get something." I asked her to come... Then I yelled loudly and with a fair amount of anger in my voice. Jada burst into tears but went to the car. The first 10 minutes were SILENT. Jada sat holding my hand and whimpering. I was resolved not to be the first to speak.

I could only hold out so long with a self-justifying attitude of, "well, I am her father and she needs to listen to me when I give an instruction." I had shouted earlier, "why won't you just obey? Is it really that hard to go to the car when you are asked? Obey now and go to the car!" (picture Jessica wide-eyed and Oliver staring at me while all this is happening).

Now, here is the crazy part. Just that morning I had read a few chapters of Luke and Matthew 28. In both instances I was chewing on Jesus' words to his disciples, "...teaching them to obey (observe) everything I have commanded you and behold I am with you always..." I had given her the impossible task that morning, and I have done it often before - I look my children in the eye and tell them to obey without elaborating on the fact that it is Jesus who helps them to obey. We pawn off religion on our children and for that matter our church members when we seek an easy quick fix.

"Your behavior is the problem, not your heart."

That, folks, is religion. This is why I am thankful for the free gift of Grace in Christ Jesus and the empowerment of the Holy Spirit. I have NO CHANCE on my own. This story should illustrate that fact clearly. People will often ask me, "How do you counsel someone with _____________ (fill in the blank with any sin issue imaginable)?" I will tell them, though as the story above indicates I struggle with it often, "I show them Jesus." In Luke 17:32 Jesus makes a startling statement, "Remember Lot's wife." In this statement we find a hint at what Jesus expects of us as his disciples and what he desires FOR us to be as Disciplemakers - It's as if he is saying, "Have a SINGULAR focus. Make it me."

The final 10 minutes of the car ride to school for Jada and I were wonderful. The Spirit convicted my heart of the sin present and I looked Jada in the eye and we had a moment of sweet forgiveness. We both cried, held hands and began talking through Colossians 3:1-4 together.

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How is normal?

On August 17th, like many other parents, I loaded up the minivan and through teary eyes watched as our daughter set foot into yet another different environment. School. It was interesting to watch my wife of 7 years look through the salty lens of sadness and separation as Jada scampered into her new room. My mother took the time to watch the boys for this momentous occasion. Our hope was not to jump right into school for if Jada had experienced no delays in treatment she would have been finished with chemo in June not July 31st. This would have afforded a little more time between the old life and the new as it were.

Thankfully, this has proven to be yet another arena where we must trust God to do what we can't. Jada has adjusted well, for the most part, to school for those of you wondering. She does not like math and lacks the stamina to go full day so we pick her up at noon. Her teachers are wonderful and we are totally enjoying the banter of a 3 year old and a school girl at the table each night. Pierce, well, he just makes eyes at his momma :)

We have been advised to expose Jada to exercise and condition her body back to where it was pre-surgery. Since she lacks stamina, this is a tricky endeavor. Last week after dinner we decided to go for a family bike ride to the park and back. Its a short ride from our home and we assumed a safe one. Jada had tired legs but was still able to run around and chase Ollie as he climbed up and down the slide. It was, dare I say, "normal." Then, the unthinkable. Two young boys looked at her. One of them said, "Look, there's that bald girl." The other retorted, "yeah, I bet they call her baldy at school. Let's call her baldy. BALDY BALDY." (Thankfully, the staff at CLA in Hopedale, IL have tackled this issue head on and are so SENSITIVE to our concerns) Jada really did not seem to hear them and scampered off. Jessica, however, rose up with deep motherly love and flat rebuked those young boys. "No, actually, they do not call her that at school. In fact, its quite rude to say that..." The boys got the picture and just stared in disbelief at the now deeply saddened mother. I had been running to the bathroom and when I came back there was this look that Jess had in her eyes. She recounted the story with tears and with fury.

Later that night as we were putting the kids to bed, Jada was asked, "how did that make you feel that they called you baldy?" In a very matter of fact tone she said, "well dad, he was not really there so he doesn't know what happened to me. But mostly, it just makes me want to cry."

This caused me to think - a lot. Jess and I both just shed tears of sadness for her knowing that it has to be difficult to be a spectacle. But that is not why I wrote this - nor is it why I shared the story in the first place. Two very distinct things began to emerge in my thinking:

1. God has always been and will always be our defender and refuge. He is the perfect parent - there when we cannot be. Variables are a damning thing - they exist when you did not plan or intend on them and they often impede one's ability to stay the course. Psalm 18:2 is helpful in this regard. By definition a variable is something that is not consistent or not having a particular pattern.

2. This makes me treasure Jesus all the more precisely because he spoke for those who could not speak. (See Matt. 12:20). Why else do you think there is so much talk in scripture of the "fatherless, the widow and the orphan?" Have you ever thought about those people in more than just a passing way? Actually considered in the core of your being the following: what is my responsibility to the Fatherless, the widow and the orphan? or better yet the prostitute, the drug addict and the ex-convict. Its easy to avoid the likes of these and spew out something spiritual like "they just did not show commitment to the process or there was not enough thirst for God."Well, as I recall, in Romans 5:8 Christ loved me while I was still a sinner. The term could not be stronger - it might as well say, "while Doug was still a no good, lousy, arrogant, deceitful, jerk..." you get the picture.

It is sad when this happens, though it will not be much longer and she won't be that noticeable anymore - but that leads us to the title of the post, "How is normal?" You'd be surprised how many pose that question to me assuming thats what I want. Its fair, I suppose, and I have even talked of a "normal" schedule and retiring to life as it used to be. However, as I sat in a circle of men today discussing the disciplemaking genius of Jesus I realized something..

I don't want normal. Not now anyways. Don't get me wrong, there is a certain love affair we have with the predictable - but is that really what we are called to? I am coming to the conviction more and more that I don't want normal, I WANT JESUS! That means all the messed up potential-less people like myself have a hope.

So, if you are in with me - (especially you Tremont High School Student) who will you sit next to at lunch that was not the same as yesterday? Who will you invite into your home and just do the "normal" things of life with in a way that drips with Jesus-like intentionality?

!!!ALL CLEAR!!!

There are days that  I wake up refreshed. The clean and deep first breath of air is invigorating. The sun is just making its presence known outside, my coffee is hot, the pages of my bible ruffle and the children are asleep. These are good days.

However, this past Friday was not that day. Having finished Jada's scans the day prior and still without results was not a recipe for a peaceful day. Throughout the day there was this eerie little reminder of the phone call that had not come. On Thursday evening I had spent some time on the phone with Jada's oncologist and it seemed as though he was going to call me by noon with the results.

Finally, after I tried distracting myself with work stuff at the church it was time for the family to hop in the car and drive up to see Jada's friend (and obviously OUR friend) Cora Peters for her birthday. Cora just turned sixteen so insurance rates will soar, curfew will be more strictly enforced, and a driver's license will be had (driver's ed happens to be one of her presents). While driving north on IL-40 I glanced at my time, 5:00pm. "Hmmm, Jess do you think I should just call St. Jude to find out?" "I'm not sure," was the reply. Well thanks for clearing up any ambiguity I had. Not five minutes later my phone rang and the I.D. said "St. Jude Peoria."

In that moment there is little training one can endure which makes them steady and fully prepared. I looked at Jess and her face went white. I picked up the phone and Dr. Al said very quickly, "I just wanted to tell you that Jada's scans all returned clear. You may come back Tuesday for a follow up."

There is a particular diner in Peoria my wife enjoys mainly because they serve what her limited diet can actually consume; it is called One World. As one walks in from the front door there is a mural with what appears to be a greek god holding the world on his shoulders. In that moment of pure elation after hanging up the phone, I felt like that mural - taking the weight and tossing it to the side. I cried. As we drove down the road I hung up the phone and just cried.

A short while later we arrived at Cora's house. Jada and I did a brief little celebratory dance next to our van as I got her out. Over the next few hours we were family. We played football, ate dinner, had great conversation, and in general were just welcomed in by a family who is in the middle of this same trial we just exited, and at that - for their second round. After 9 months in remission Cora's cancer returned. Our utter joy is co-mingled with perseverant prayer. For while our scans were ALL CLEAR there are many for whom scans are not clear at all.

This is the great temptation and the tremendous parallel: a body lacking health mimics sin and its catastrophic effect - death. The temptation, once health returns is to run out and buy the first t-shirt that says "I beat cancer" and speak of the strength of this person or that in facing a trial. Folks, Jada is not strong, Cora is not strong, BUT they both WALK WITH THE ONE WHO IS! In our fast paced, over-stimulated, under-related culture we must never tire of displaying our dependence. We have needed the Peter's in the past few months just as much, if not more than they have needed us. But, when the day is done our first and most conspicuous dependence is on Jesus Christ!

Reasoning

I had reasoned with my heart this morning.

You know how it goes - there is a big day in store, so you have this sort of inner-dialogue which goes something like this: "Heart, I know today is a big day and I know that you are considering getting all wrapped up in the difficulty or trauma that lays ahead. You may also want to feel a sense of isolation, as though you are all alone in the day's happenings. Don't! Be reasonable and whatever you do - please do not summon the tear ducts for aid in displaying the particular feeling you may be experiencing." 

However, my heart is no respecter of these inner dialogues and the salty taste present on my tongue currently bears it out. I knew this. I knew as I awoke this morning that Jada was going to be having more scans - and that these scans are the ones which make me a little more nervous than usual. So there it is - I am NOT STRONG! I just wheeled Jada in to CT before she was sedated and she cried, looking at me with that desperation which I have become so accustomed to. I cried too. I leaned over her and prayed - whispering Psalm 46:1 in her ear, "God is our refuge and strength a very present help in trouble." And as I turned to walk out of the scan room - Jada safely asleep - I was reminded that my little inner-dialogue this morning was not so much a cry of self-preservation but a prayer for help (In an effort to drive this reminder further into my psyche - I write... N-O-W. It is the easiest way for me to process, so bear with me). 

I had a renewed sense of the goodness and immanence of the Lord. Read all of Psalm 46 today and you will be amazed that on four separate occasions the author mentions the concept of presence leading to peace, stillness, and knowledge of who God genuinely is. So my heart rests in Him. Many are praying - there are even some that are enduring today in fasting for Jada (and our family).

So do my emotions just go away? No. They do not. I am still shedding tears as I consider her lying there and maybe more so because these are the scans which are supposed to reveal that Jada is COMPLETELY DONE with all treatment for cancer. I will further reason with my heart to consider the depth of truth found in Psalm 139:7-12 where the author wrestles down this concept that there is NO place one can hide from the presence of God. I can no more flee the presence of God's Spirit and be all alone than I can wake up tomorrow and looking at my body tell my skin to leave. It doesn't work that way. God is able to be called on; an ever-present help in times of trouble, BECAUSE He is near. 

When in deep sin and disobedience to the Spirit - this works as conviction. When in times of trial this works as comfort. Right now I can conceive of nothing finer than the comfort of the Spirit of Jesus Christ the Living God! 

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A Promise Made A Promise Kept

I took out my phone and snapped a picture of the last bag of chemo as it arrived in the room. Not really the emotional response I was figuring on. However, the inner elation was unreal. It's almost as if my mind had to convince my heart that this was a big deal.

LAST BAG OF CHEMO

Well, it wasn't long until my heart realized its bluff had been called and it put all its cards on the table. That moment came during the post hydration phase - after chemo is infused Jada must receive 2 hours of IV fluids to flush her only remaining kidney. Chemo started around 2:00pm - infused for 1/2 hour and then Jada had post hydration. 

Jada, the whole day, was blissfully unaware of the approaching magnitude. That is until about 15 or so minutes were showing on the screen of her IV unit. She began to get a little slap happy and bouncing around. 

At exactly 11 minutes remaining SHE GOT IT! 

My heart was reminded of the valleys, which on account of their depths had kept hidden the certain hope awaiting us. Jada too was reminded and in what I can only describe as a surreal moment her eyes locked with mine . . . and they told a story. A story of height, depth, length, breadth, and width of a Father's love - your love oh LORD! 

At exactly 11 minutes remaining Jada locked eyes with me, climbed up onto my lap, and her head just caved into my chest. I read all of Psalm 136 as a prayer of thanksgiving. Then, for the remaining ten minutes or so I rocked her in my arms and we both just cried. That same familiar phrase chanted SO MANY times throughout this began again, like waves on a beach - slow, methodic, inviting and overall just therapeutic - "Jesus is our strength" flowed off my tongue. 

Jada's last to-do list

You, Father, have kept your promise. You are near to the broken hearted, the humble, and the afflicted. Thank you. There is still a lengthy journey ahead but with you a promise made is a promise kept. 

With

"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, "it's 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 doctors 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."

These were the words first shared on this blog as I set out to chronicle the journey of our daughter's fight for life. Tonight I sit in a chair just a few feet away listening to her labored breathing - noticing that her and her doll have matching outfits - one would expect nothing less. The significance of this day cannot be overstated. You see, on December 30th, 2010 Jada was diagnosed with kidney cancer and shortly thereafter we were informed that it would be about an 8 month journey of surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. Now we are just two more infusions away from being finished with treatment, tomorrow and Sunday (July 30, 31st).

Eight months on nearly any other terms seems so doable and like a drop in the bucket of time so-to-speak. In fact, the whole thing (8 months actually being a relatively short time versus how the time felt) reminded me a quote Kramer had in a Seinfeld episode years ago. In the span of eternity it is literally next to nothing. In the reality of our hearts it was FAR longer. When someone tells you that they had an experience that was emotionally draining. . . believe them. 

So what is it about this experience that has got me thinking in ways that I never have before? Prior to this, it was easy for me to shuffle someone's suffering into the deep recesses of my heart and dig it up in some rote prayer or small display of compassion - not always, but it did happen. Now, I must confront the idea that this whole trial: the surgery, the chemo, the vomiting, the fevers, the blood transfusions, the broken arms, the radiation, and the mortality - the constant draining and heart-deadening weight of thinking in terms of life or death for your firstborn - is ending. Sure, there will be days ahead of anxiety or fear: every three months for two years, etc. where scans and blood tests will be done (with cancer you are never really done).  But largely, this trial has run its course. 

I know the reader of this is thinking, "Doug, get a grip - your family seems to have been the target since January of many trials...don't you WANT this to end?" Yes, I do, make no mistake. I want this to be done - I long for waking and going to work and coming home. But that is not what I'm talking about when it comes to what I must confront. I am confronting the fact that I have conversations with many folks for whom there is not a foreseeable closure to the suffering.

I think of a woman down the hall whose son is experiencing what we did just a month back - it all seemed so distant until the reality of it looked me in the eye and spoke tenderly of her family and the toll it's taking on them. I think of my dear friend Cora and her family - fervent though they be in prayer many hurdles remain. They are coming to grips with the kindness of severity - that He is known best when He is needed MOST. I think of another little girl named Jada who has a rare and challenging cancer, and her parents really love Jesus. My mind is captured by all of the faces and my heart riveted to the core by the stories which accompany them. For many suffering continues - and it may for my family again.  

Psalm 119:67 "Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I keep your word."

When all is considered there is a side of me that struggles mightily with ease. Essentially, it is the knowledge that there is suffering (or apathy, stubbornness, laziness) still on the prowl while I am enjoying the blessings and kindness of God. C.H. Spurgeon once said, Why is it that a little ease works in us so much disease? Can we never rest without rusting? Never be filled without waxing fat?"

In Philippians 1:18-30 the Apostle Paul experienced something similar. He was at the point of immanent death and desired to be done with the trial. However, he knew it was more beneficial to remain with them for their "progress and joy" in the faith. I can say with UTTER confidence that the Lord has walked WITH us every step of the way in this journey (as have many of you). So, as with Spurgeon I will question ease for it usually means one of two things in my life: either I am forging out on my own in a particular area outside of the precious Christian community the Lord designed for me to walk in OR there is a lack of trial and suffering which would throw me helplessly on my PRESENT Savior. 

I can rejoice that Jada is finishing her treatment but my prayer is that His presence maintain my vigilance with regard to those suffering a life lived without Jesus. 

***Quick note - An acquaintance of mine has written a new book entitled "With: Reimagining the way you relate to God." It will be available in late August - but you can check out the 1st chapter for free HERE - the author's name is Skye Jethani. ***

Please post any comments or thoughts you have - you never know, someone may be encouraged to deepen their relationship with God as a result. 

His Design In Nearness

"I pray that Dad has a good day at clinic tomorrow, that I would be good at clinic, and that Dad would preach your word the WHOLE time we are there - Amen!"

This would be Jada's latest prayer tonight just as we were putting her to bed. It rings true because today was my first chance to publicly proclaim the goodness of God and the encouragement received from so many from the pulpit. After not preaching for over half a year I was finally able to loose these lips and not be restrained to a keystroke for my catharsis. Of particular blessing today was the fact that my wife was also able to express some of what God has taught her by singing to songs...the singing was angelic. It honored God because it made much of him.

You can listen (or add it to your podcast) by going here (Doug Rumbold's Podcast) you can also download one of Jessica's songs (she sang with her sister) by clicking here (Finally I Surrender)

Enjoy.