Refuge

One of the distressing consequences of the last two months of chemotherapy was missing many church services.  It was so wonderful this past Sunday to once again sit in church and to fellowship with my family in Christ.  I know we go to church  because we are told to not neglect the meeting together of the saints and we are told as a body of Christ that we are to go, not because of what church does for us, but because we are called to worship God Almighty.  However, I realized again this Sunday, that there is a wonderful reciprocal blessing in going to the house of God as it is such a wonderful refuge.  The call to worship was from one of my favorite Psalms, Psalm 46, which speaks of God being our refuge and strength.  One of the hymns was another favorite, O the Deep, Deep Love of Jesus.

              O the deep, deep love of Jesus!  Vast, unmeasured, boundless, free;

              Rolling as a mighty ocean in its fullness over me.

              Underneath me, all around me, is the current of thy love;

              leading onward, leading homeward, to thy glorious rest above.

Then there was the message about the church in Corinth being used to teach us that all our joys and all our sufferings, all the things that weigh down our hearts are given resolution and meaning in Christ as the focus becomes about Him and not us.        

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

It was a special refuge this past Sunday, surrounded by family in Christ, after an especially stressful week.  The week was weighed with decisions that I did not want to make.  The decision about whether to go along with the MD Anderson doctors and pursue a new chemotherapy regimen followed by possible surgery was hard to make as every part of my being cried out against doing it.  However, I (as well as many reading this) prayed for wisdom and I did feel that my oncologist's encouragement to give it a try was wise.  I am getting used to the idea, but must say that I continue to dread it.  I am saddened by the fact that the second treatment will be finishing when my first grandbaby will be arriving.  (My daughter-in-law, reminded me however, that it might make it easier to recover having the little one to hold and cuddle!)  As things stand now, I will have a port put in this Friday and probably go into the hospital next Wednesday for five days of treatment.

I'll admit to discouragement and shedding of tears during the past week as I contemplated the options.  Knowing what is coming and having been down the path twice already is not helpful.  In my discouragement I have found myself asking God "why?"  "Why can't the path be clearer?"  "Why can't the treatment be easier?"  "Why can't there be more certainty?"  "Why does life have to be so hard for the children when they are so young?"  And, of course, "Why must I go through this?"  I can remember asking like questions when my husband went through three years of cancer before being taken to glory in 2006.  It was not, and is not, for me a questioning of God's wisdom or right to allow this path, but simply wishing I had an explanation.  I didn't get a lot of answers at the time of my husband's illness, but have seen many answers since.   I'm sure even more answers will be obvious when I reach the glorious shore.   That gives me hope and reminds me that God's ways are perfect ways, that His purposes will be fulfilled and it will all be for the best.  In the meantime I will take refuge in the house of God as often as I can.

As I struggled this past week, I took up re-rereading a wonderful book on God's purposes in suffering.  It is called When God Weeps by Joni Eareckson Tada and Steve Estes.  I highly recommend the book.  It is written by someone whose suffering was so much more than any of us can even imagine, someone who also asked "why" and found some wonderful answers in looking first to who God is.  The book brings the focus of suffering away from me and shows that it is about God.  In answer to why the authors say in part,

              

              First, ..God's plan calls for all Christians to suffer sometimes intensely....

             

              Second, God's plan is specific.  He doesn't say, "Into each life a little rain must fall," then

              aim a hose in earth's general direction and see who gets the wettest.  He doesn't reach

              for a key, wind up nature with its sunny days and hurricanes, then sit back and watch

              the show.  He doesn't let Satan prowl about totally unrestricted.  He doesn't believe in

              a hands-off policy of governing.  He's not our planet's absent landlord.  Rather, he

              screens the trials that come to each of us--allowing only those that accomplish his good

              plan, because he takes no joy in human agony. These trials aren't evenly distributed

              from person to person.  This can discourage us, for we are not privy to his reasons.

              But in God's wisdom and love, every trial in a Christian's life is ordained  from eternity

              past, custom-made for that believer's eternal good, even when it doesn't seem like it. 

              Nothing happens by accident....not even tragedy...not even sins committed against us.

             

              Third, the core of his plan is to rescue us from our sin....

             

              Last, every sorrow we taste will one day prove to be the best possible thing that could

              have happened.  We will thank God endlessly in heaven for the trials he sent us here.

I recall my pastor once saying that it is ok to ask God "why," and I know that is true.  However, I am becoming more and more convinced that the answers to those questions are simply too big to understand in the here and now.  I don't think I am capable of comprehending the magnitude of why the loving, all-knowing, holy, merciful God would have me go down this path today.  All He gives me in answers for today is His assurance that He is "my refuge and my strength" and that ALL He does is good.  I know one day when I reach my eternal home I will be able to say, "Thank you Lord for allowing that in my life" and I will rejoice as His plan and purposes are unfolded.

Another daughter-in-law, shared a song last week that said a great deal about how I was feeling.

A Song for the Suffering - Shane & Shane and John Piper (http://vimeo.com/71765067 -to listen to it)

I come, God, I come

I return to the Lord

The one who’s broken

The one who’s torn me apart

You strike down to bind me up

You say you do it all in love

That I might know you in your suffering

Though you slay me

Yet I will praise you

Though you take from me

I will bless your name

Though you ruin me

Still I will worship

Sing a song to the one who’s all I need

My heart and flesh may fail

The earth below give way

But with my eyes, with my eyes I’ll see the Lord

Lifted high on that day

Behold, the Lamb that was slain

And I’ll know every tear was worth it all

Though you slay me

Yet I will praise you

Though you take from me

I will bless your name

Though you ruin me

Still I will worship

Sing a song to the one who’s all I need

Though tonight I’m crying out

Let this cup pass from me now

You’re still more than I need

You’re enough for me

You’re enough for me

[Not only is all your affliction momentary, not only is all your affliction light in comparison to eternity and the glory there. But all of it is totally meaningful. Every millisecond of your pain, from the fallen nature or fallen man, every millisecond of your misery in the path of obedience is producing a peculiar glory you will get because of that.

I don’t care if it was cancer or criticism. I don’t care if it was slander or sickness. It wasn’t meaningless. It’s doing something! It’s not meaningless. Of course you can’t see what it’s doing. Don’t look to what is seen.

When your mom dies, when your kid dies, when you’ve got cancer at 40, when a car careens into the sidewalk and takes her out, don’t say, “That’s meaningless!” It’s not. It’s working for you an eternal weight of glory.

Therefore, therefore, do not lose heart. But take these truths and day by day focus on them. Preach them to yourself every morning. Get alone with God and preach his word into your mind until your heart sings with confidence that you are new and cared for.]

Though you slay me

Yet I will praise you

Though you take from me

I will bless your name

Though you ruin me

Still I will worship

Sing a song to the one who’s all I need

Sing a song to the one who’s all I need

Squandered Blessings

I'll admit to disappointment with my visit to MD Anderson this past weekend. The disappointment was not in finding out  that the chemotherapy had not been effective, as I assumed that because of the increase in pain I have had.  My disappointment was due to the fact that decisions for future treatment were not clearer.   To be honest, I hate making decisions (as my friends know, I don't even like to chose a restaurant) and lately have been overwhelmed by how many major ones I have been faced with.   I am very thankful to have a doctor there (and here) who understand completely that I am not interested in taking a treatment that would prolong my life a few months, but make me miserable the entire time.  Unfortunately however, this sarcoma is so rare that there are not big enough studies to be able to give percentages of effectiveness on various treatments.   I also know that all doctor's predictions are just human best guesses anyway.  Humanly speaking my late husband was not expected to live more than 3-6 months and God granted him 3 good years.   I know I will not live one hour more or less than God has ordained.  It was simply my mistake to go to Houston thinking the answer as to what, if any, treatment should be pursued would be handed to me on a silver platter!  Their recommendation, if I do anything,  is to try a different chemo treatment for a couple of months and if the lesion shrinks to possibly have surgery.  However, it is unclear how extensive the surgery would have to be, thus a return visit to Houston on Wednesday to meet again with the surgeon.  Perhaps this visit will make things clearer.

It is a classic question, and one I have been thinking about a great deal recently:  "What would you do differently if you knew you had ____time left on the earth?"   Obviously, only God knows what time we have left, but we are told to "number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom." (Ps. 90:12)  So often we live as though we had no end in sight here on the earth, not looking at the fact that we could die in a car accident tomorrow or be faced with a terminal illness.  Being faced with that illness, I have been mulling over that question that I should have been asking daily for years.  I must admit I am disappointed to find that there are many things I would do differently.  Oh that I could say I had lived each day as though it were my last!

Many years ago, when I was going through a very very difficult time in my life a good friend assured me of her prayers and made the comment that one day God would shower me with His blessings.  I have remembered that often as I have tried to count the many blessings God has brought into my life over the last few years.  I am blessed beyond measure!  My daily needs are well supplied for and running over.  I am surrounded by five godly loving children, two wonderful daughters-in-law and a most gracious Mother who all support and lift me up every day.  I have the body of Christ here locally and around the world who lift me up in prayer and care, sharing my burdens. I have friends who send notes encouraging me to keep on trudging along!   I have been given so much!  The other evening as one of my sons led in prayer during our family devotions, I was struck by his prayer as he thanked God for His multitude of blessings to us, but prayed that we would not squander those blessings.  Wow!  As I contemplate what I would do differently if I knew how many days I had left on this earth, I keep coming back to this prayer and am made aware that daily I am squandering those blessings that I have been given.

So my prayer today, is that whatever time God gives me before taking me to glory, I may stop squandering those multitude of blessings He has given me.  I pray that I will not neglect reading and studying His word and coming to Him in prayer, worship and gratitude.  I pray that I will take time to look out and actually see the beauty of creation around me and see God's hand in it.  I pray that I will remember to uplift my friends to God daily in prayer. I pray that I will take the time to sit on the porch and drink coffee with the most wonderful mother a person could ask for and appreciate the time we have together.  I pray that I might be sure my family knows they are loved every day.  I pray that I might be quicker to share my faith and sing God's praises to those around me.  I pray that I might be a blessing to all God sees fit to bring in my path.  I pray that my cancer might be used to bring glory to God!

A couple of quotes a friend sent to me.  The first from  Death by Samuel Eyres Pierce, a book we had to read in high school.

 "There is a time to be born and a time to die;" and everyone dies when they least expect, yet no one dies but at God's appointed time; and the wisdom, goodness, and power of God, are more eminently displayed in the deaths of all men, as well as in their lives. This should make us contented to live, and also to die. The time, the place, the season, the circumstance, and all which concerns our going out of this world, is most divinely ordered by the Lord. Everyone dies in the most convenient season for themselves and those they belong to. All God's purposes, for which He brought us into being, and the reasons why He has upheld us so few, or so many years in this world, are all accomplished in us, and by us, before He removes us out of it by death....."

 
The second by Bonar, "We watch; for the night is far spent. Not only do we know of nought before us ere the Lord arrive; but we know of much behind us. Hours, years, ages have gone by. And if the whole night was to be brief, only a "little while" then surely very much of it must now be over. "The night is far spent," says the apostle; literally, it is "cut off", it is foreshortened, that is, it is becoming shorter, it is drawing to a close. Behind us are lying centuries of tears and shadows; the greater part of the little while must be past; the day must be at hand. The nearness makes the thought of day doubly welcome. We bend towards it with warm longings; we strain our eyes to catch the first token of it; we rouse ourselves to vigilance, knowing that now is our salvation nearer than when we believed."

Simple Faith

Well the week is finally over and I have survived!  It has been exceedingly rough.  The hair is gone, but unfortunately, unlike the hair, the other side effects hang on :o).  I am hoping and praying the symptoms will ease day by day this week.  This coming  weekend I go back to MD Anderson for further scans to see if the chemo has been at all effective.  I covet prayers for wisdom on the part of the doctor there as well as my oncologist  here and myself as we decide what, if any, further steps should be taken.  I also appreciate prayers that the pain which has increasingly become my constant companion might be under better control.

The last few weeks I have spent a good amount of time trying to arrange a spot at Breckenridge Village for my brain injured adult son to attend a couple of days a week (they have him on a waiting list).  The other children are growing up and moving out, there is a great uncertainty with my health as well as Mother's and so I feel a  need for Jes to have something special of his own in the near future.  To quote their website, "Breckenridge Village of Tyler (BVT) is a faith-based community for adults with mild to moderate intellectual and developmental disabilities. BVT offers exceptional residential and day enrichment programs to meet the needs of the persons entrusted to our care. We are dedicated to empowering each resident as he or she develops spiritually, physically, mentally, emotionally, and socially in a safe, loving, and closely supervised environment."  I can't begin to tell you how impressed I have been by this wonderful place.  Everyone who works there has a heart for God and for the residents they care for.   They give back to the community as the community gives to them.  Then there are the adults they care for:  everyone of them seem content and very happy with the simple things in life.

These trips have made me think of some of my Jesse's reactions to difficult things in life.  When my uncle died less than a week after Jesse's Dad, with smiling face Jes told me not to be sad because Uncle Floyd was not only with Dad, but was with Jesus.  When  we adopted him after he suffered severe abuse, I heard the man who inflicted the abuse was sentenced to not  a day in prison.  I can't begin to describe how angry it made me that this child abuser was out on the streets after the brain damage he inflicted on this young boy.  After six months of daily nightmares in which I dreamt the man broke into our house and I blew him away, the Holy Spirit dealt with me and I was convicted that I was no better than he as I was daily committing murder in my heart.  God was gracious to forgive me. However, in contrast, the only response from Jesse, in the simplicity of his faith, was "well, he wasn't a Christian."  When asked more recently about what my cancer means to him, Jesse said, "It means you don't have long to be here."  When I asked how he felt about that, his response was, "It's ok, because I know I'll see you again in Heaven!"

Life seems very complex to me right now and I envy the simplicity of such childlike faith.  Many decisions need to be made:  what medical treatments (if any) to pursue, how to handle financial decisions and plan for the future of Jesse and the rest of the family,  how to take care of day by day decisions, and what things to focus on next.  Sometimes those decisions are overwhelming and I want to hide my head in the sand, but I am reminded of my son and the residents at Breckenridge Village who rest at ease because they know they are loved and will be cared for.  I am put to shame for I have a heavenly Father who cares for me and loves me and will never leave me alone.  Oh that our faith were as simple in its trust as that of Jesse and the residents at Breckenridge Village!

As I was comforted this week by the words in Psalm 56:8 ("You have kept count of my tossings;  put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?"), I found this devotional by Charles Spurgeon in my e-mail in-box:

              

               Liquid prayers!  (Charles Spurgeon, "Treasury of David")

             

               "The Lord has heard the voice of my weeping." Psalm 6:8

              Is there a voice in weeping? Does weeping speak? In what language does it utter its

              meaning? Why, in that universal tongue which is known and understood in all the

               earth, and even in Heaven above. When a man weeps, whether he is a Jew or

              Gentile, Barbarian, Scythian, bond or free--it has the same meaning in it.

              Weeping is the eloquence of sorrow. It is an eloquent orator, needing no

              interpreter--but understood by all.

              It is sweet to know that our tears are understood, even when words fail. Let us

              learn to think of tears as liquid prayers, and of weeping as a constant dropping of

               importunate intercession which will surely wear its way right into the very heart

              of God's mercy, despite the stony difficulties which obstruct the way. My God,

              I will "weep" when I cannot plead, for You hear the voice of my weeping!

             

              "It is a sight fit for angels to behold, tears as pearls dropping from a penitent

              eye!" Thomas Watson