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. 

Just my bunny

Yesterday marked what most would label a milestone. One could easily look at it and say, "milestone, marker, landmark" or any of a thousand metaphors - but pure and simple - it was a momentous occasion and cause for review in the journey.

Here it is: Yesterday Jada received her last scheduled outpatient chemotherapy infusion! This means from now until August she will receive chemo only while in the hospital and at that every 2-3 weeks depending on her blood levels.

The picture shows Jada at the very beginning of the journey we have been on now since December 30th, 2010 - the day of her diagnosis with Kidney Cancer. If you click on the image to make it bigger, you will read the text - Psalm 40:9-10. A dear friend made (thank you Tyler Thompson) this picture for me as a reminder... I thought this morning might be a good opportunity to unload that on you, the unsuspecting reader, what that "reminder" is.

Psalm 40:9-10:

⁹ I have told the glad news of deliverance in the great congregation; behold, I have not restrained my lips, as you know, O LORD. ¹⁰I have not hidden your deliverance within my heart; I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation; I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness from the great congregation.

To suffer without purpose or direction is to walk through life not knowing Jesus! To suffer and know the present comfort (one of the functions of the Holy Spirit listed in John 14-16...by the way, this is a great discourse on all the Spirit is - not what we make him to be) of the Spirit is to KNOW the salve or balm-like nature of God's sovereignty. Let me put it this way: how many of us will readily place our trust in that which will disappoint us, even in the short term? The answer, MANY - if not all of us will do this.

"My spouse would never treat me unkind, my kids will always respect my wishes, my job will always be here, I am well known at school or work and people like me, if I roll up my sleeves and just work hard then this or that will happen, we have set up a nice nest egg for retirement that will sustain us," etc etc etc.

The writer of Hebrews is clear that Jesus is the sure and firm anchor for our soul which will NEVER disappoint - the only one we can ever hang our hopes on and find them realized. From the very beginning with Jada God has given grace and mercy in helping us realize this trial is not about us. We have the happy tune of God's deliverance and salvation whistling from our lips - though there have been times of sadness, self-pity, and complaining. Since my first blog post on this new life of ours at the beginning of January, Jess and I have endeavored to "not restrain my (our) lips" regarding the deliverance and faithfulness of God. A simple fact Jada brought to light just yesterday as we traveled to clinic.

Each time we leave the house go to the clinic we spend the first half of the ride praying and talking through fears or concerns for that day. It was hard to keep the smile off my weary lips as I said, "Jada, do you know what today is?" She says blithely, "clinic, why dad?" "Jada, today is your LAST outpatient CHEMOTHERAPY!" The words dance off my tongue with a sweetness only Jesus can cause. "What do you think about that sweetie?" Three words that indicate the work the Spirit has been up to in her little heart rolled out, "God did it" she yells.

I look in the rearview mirror and ask her, "well, if God did that, what should we tell people?" She locks her eyes with mine and states with conviction, "we should tell them."

Clinic and the rest of the day went much as it always does... some screaming children here and there, no real schedule - just a lot of waiting, blood drawn, weight taken, height checked, heart listened to, crafts done, conversations had, lunch consumed (a celebration lunch considering the day of course), back home, played outside, shot given (Jada receives an injection daily to help with her blood levels), and finally, BEDTIME! I am lying in bed with Jada reviewing the day and reading a little to her. After prayer and a kiss on the forehead she looks at me and places one hand on my cheek. Intently she says, "Dad, did you tell anyone about Jesus today at clinic?"

"Yes sweetie, I did," was followed by a brief account so Jada would know what I meant. "What about you Jada, did you tell anyone about Jesus?" "Just my bunny," she remarks. "Really, what did you tell him?" "I didn't tell, I sang - I sang him a song," was her reply. "I see, what song was that honey?" "I made it up, it was about God being good."

You see, ever since the beginning our prayer has been for deliverance. Our picture of what that is has been eroded, destroyed, and rebuilt. We are learning always that just as important as prayer is acceptance. Acceptance of the deliverance that God, in his Sovereignty, chooses to supply you with. We have (and continue to) experience deliverance in Christ, community and confession.

In Christ it is the present comfort that his sacrifice and gift of the Spirit gives. In community our nuclear families and the church body have upheld and encouraged us. In confession it is the place of brokenness which has a twofold declaration: one, God's word is ALL we can hang on to. Two, confessing sin and ineptitude at every turn so as to trust fully in God's process here.

Will you, today, join us in "not restraining your lips" and "not concealing God's steadfast love" so that others will see the GREAT joy that it is to tether our hope with the ANCHOR of JESUS?

Ponder for a moment then, who is glorified?