Tag Archives: Jesus

A Season of “No.”

Imagine if God gave us everything we wanted right when we wanted it starting as soon as we repented and accepted Christ. At first, this sort of sounds awesome, right?

But what would we ask for?

We would, no doubt, destroy ourselves with indulgences and whims and would turn from Him to live in our selfishness, glorifying only ourselves.

I think back on things I’ve prayed for and can see where His unwillingness to yield to the foolish whims of my heart were ultimately in my best interest. I also see clearly where seasons of suffering, that I prayed to be delivered from, were painfully drawn out and have brought much fruit that otherwise wouldn’t have flourished if left to my own will.

This is why I will trust His “No.” or His “Wait.” Whatever it might be. It is most certainly for my own good.

The problem is I’ve grown impulsive in my faith, all because of cancer. I no longer see any need to sit around and wait, I want to be shown where to go and I want go. So being told “No” or “wait” is most definitely bothering me more than I’d like to admit.

But just as these two pictures of our lane show, clarity will come. It won’t be foggy forever. And so I’ll seek Him in prayer and scripture. I will continue to serve Him the best I know how.

And I will wait.

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Cancer, a Birthday, and a Secret Prayer

I was dying.  And I knew it.  I was under no delusions that healing was on the table for me and I had accepted my lot in life.  Or death, I suppose, as it were.  Cancer was “exploding” all over my body, in the words of my oncologist, and I had a few good months left – at best.  My brain tumor was wreaking havoc in the way of grand mal seizures that left me for minutes on end without oxygen, leaving me to try to regain my body functions and memory after each one.  And after each one it got increasingly harder and had more long term effects that didn’t dissipate.  I had tumors in my lungs that were so inflamed that any exertion left me in a coughing fit and I found myself night after night sleeping upright on the couch because laying down in bed next to my husband, where I longed to be, would result in painful coughing fits.  My hip and back ached constantly, crying out in pain, and reminding me that the cancer was eating my bones.  Little by little.

Each day I had to relinquish more and more control of my life and the life of my family over to family and friends.  I thank God endlessly for the selfless love we received, but there is no 30 year old mother on earth who wants this for her family.  And so I struggled mentally with my lack of involvement with my kids at the level I had wanted for myself.

My body and my mind were both betraying me more and more each day.  And there was no hope in healing.  And so we faced each day as we had to.

I watched my kids, then 2 and 4, living a seemingly normal life.  At least, as normal as we could provide in the midst of all my treatments, scans, and appointments.  We tried to build a sense of normalcy around the fact that Mommy was dying and we treated it as a fact of life rather than a scary and sad event.  I bought them a book called “A Kid’s Travel Guide to Heaven” and we read it every day.  And while it’s certainly not scripture based, it did help open the discussion and help the kids to see that that was where Mommy would be.  Waiting for them to come.

I needed them to know that if they understood the gospel of Jesus Christ and that if they accepted the gift of salvation that we would be together again.  And I needed them to know that although Mommy was happy to go to heaven, that it would never be my choice to leave them.  Never.  I was desperate for them to understand this.  And the tears would fall.  Rolling down my cheeks in silent protest.  Just as they are right now as I write this.

A sibling squabble was a reminder that I wouldn’t be there to help them bond as they grew up.   Setting the kids in front of a Veggietales so I could get a break because I was in too much pain was a reminder that I wouldn’t be a spiritual influence for them for very much longer.  A sweet hug goodnight and even the frustration of trying to put young kids to bed were all too painful reminders of all I would be missing out on.  And selfishly, this tore me up inside.  Everything in me longed to be there for them as they grew up, and so the tears fell.

People often ask me how I did it.  How could I face this?  How could I cope?  There is truly no good answer to that.  I know we did what we had to do but looking back it seems so impossible.  It really was too much.  How did we do it?

There was a profound acceptance on my part that this was the end.  Mind you, acceptance certainly did not mean gladness.  I was tired and I was sad.  But I was ready.

I remember one sleepless night very clearly.  I had propped myself up on lots of pillows so that I could stay in bed with Eric, and as was so often the case when I could manage to stay in bed, I would listen to him rhythmically breathing as he slept and I would be soothed by the fact that he, at least for a few hours each day, had calmness and rest.  On this particular night, just like I had on so many others, I would pray.

But tonight would be a little bit different.

I lay there with my eyes closed tight, silent tears falling faster each second, cascading down my cheeks only to puddle up onto the sheets.  And in my desperation I reached my hand up to heaven.  And I begged God with all I had in me, to give me until I was 34.

34 years old.

Please God!  It would be about 3.5 years at that point and I felt like I was asking for the moon.  I felt like I was asking God to turn me into a unicorn or something equally as impossible.  I felt like I knew I was asking for too much, that it wasn’t possible, that it was absolutely ridiculous.  But that for some reason in my head that was the perfect amount of time.  That if He just allowed me that window of time that the kids would be old enough to have some good, solid memories of me.  At that time, this was the number one tug on my heart.  Selfishly, I wanted nothing more than for the kids to remember me.  That’s just the way it was.  Eric and I would have been married 10 years when I was 34, and that was just an astonishing feat to me.  It sounded so glorious.  Perfect.  The perfect amount of time!  I kept apologizing to God because I knew my request was so silly and so selfish.  But as I continued to pray, my desperation simply grew as I begged and begged God to please just give me until I was 34!

I write this today.  On my 34th birthday.  I can honestly say I never thought this day would come.  I know God isn’t a genie up in heaven granting wishes, but I believe He heard my heart on that night.  I’m not sure I’ll ever know for sure how all of this has worked or why it has worked out this way, surviving this long isn’t something I believe I deserve or have earned.  It just simply is.  And as I sit here now with clean scans as of last week, I’ll accept it as the beautiful gift it is.

I didn’t want to tell this story.  In fact, I could count on one hand the number of people I ever told this prayer to.  Why?  Because it felt like a childish prayer.  Like a lack of faith on my part, and maybe it was.

But I wanted to tell it now because God is good and deserves all praise.  Always.  He has given me more than I could ever ask or imagine.  Think about those words, more than I could ask or imagine.  All glory to God!  And I give Him glory for this urgency He has placed in my heart for spreading the gospel.  It can feel like a burden sometimes because it was so much easier to live a lukewarm life, but I pray He never lets this passion for praising Him and spreading the Good News fade.  Christ has reconciled this sinner with a Holy God through His righteousness alone.  I’ll always be grateful and I want to only praise him forever.  Thank you, Jesus!

“Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever!  Amen.”  ~Ephesians 3:20-21

Prayer for Believers

May Your holy fire burn within us again;

And may Your love boil over in result, forcing us to action in Your name.

May we cast off the rotting corpses of shame, guilt, and regret,

And may we fully come to know that Your blood has washed us clean.

May we be ceaselessly burdened for those who don’t know You,

And may we make discipleship our priority.

May we take the Good News so far that our feet become sore and weary,

And may our arms ache and cry out as we reach farther and farther towards the lost.

May we keep our eyes fixed only on Him, our feet straight in His path,

And our lives set in His will.

May we see suffering and long to ease it,

And may we endure suffering in Your strength only.

May we experience unity as believers,

Recognizing that we all share the same goal.

May our lips speak to praise You,

And our words bring You glory.

May we meet contempt with love.

May our words build each other up in constant encouragement.

May we no longer pursue a world that is ripe with decay,

But let us seek revival in Your word.

May we experience hunger so that others may be fed.

May we serve with intent and selflessness,

Forsaking accolades and meaningless praise.

May our egos dry to dust and float away in the wind of God’s goodness.

And may our icy apathy and cold-hearted complacency towards Christ’s final directive begin to melt,

That we may thirst for the living water above all else to fill us.

Sacrifice.

2017 word of the year for us: Sacrifice! Eric and I were called to give up a lot, I mean, A LOT! But we chose obedience over acceptance, as difficult as that was at times.

I won’t undercut those who suffer from true depression, but I have felt depression deeper this year than I have ever known even when dying from cancer. Truly. Although we know we still “have” our church family from New Holland (and love them!), it still felt like God was telling us to give that up as our place of worship. For Him. Not because New Holland is any way bad, NO, not at all!! But because it was time. For us.

We felt led to plant a church and that NH would no longer be our place of worship, after 12 years and the fact that it’s the only church home I’ve ever had, that was hard. I have cried more over these last few months at the “loss” of this family, and most specifically at the loss of being a part of the youth group, than I ever have at anything regarding to cancer. Yeah, seriously….

But God had not left us without. Not even a little. He has given us a new church and a new vision and this has been an amazing blessing to our family. Church planting is, well, WAY more work than I ever thought it would be. That’s not necessarily bad, it just is what it is.

2017 has been very hard for the same reasons that it has been wonderful: People. We love and value all of the relationships we have and that have flourished this year and we mourn the loss of those that we have lost. We have lost friendships and for that, I grieve. But I don’t want to lose focus on my goal of spreading Christ simply based on the disapproval of Christians who don’t agree with my methods. I just can’t. It’s too important and they can say literally whatever they want about me, I know the truth and so does God. And my mission is pure, regardless.

It’s been a hard time because I felt like I needed to hide all of this hurt. But our old church has supported us so much and so have many others and for that we are thankful!

I’m praying that God will do BIG things in us and through us this year as we try to reach those who do not know Him!

We are totally unworthy of this calling to plant a God-honoring church but so excited because that’s how we know God works – through those of us that are unworthy.

May His strength be shown in my weakness as my weaknesses have been on full display this year. I’ve been quick to anger. Oh! So quick. I’ve said less than kind things as a reaction to being hurt. I’ve tried to be a pleaser of people. I’ve lost sight occasionally of the ultimate goal and passion of living for the purpose and life that only Jesus can give. Sadly, even after all I’ve been through with cancer, it’s possible still to lose sight of the most important things because of hurts caused by people. How silly, ultimately.

And I’ve been listening to way too much Taylor Swift. Haha! But seriously there are times that “Bad Blood” has seemed way more appropriate to me at the given moment than any Chris Tomlin song.

I’m a work in progress.

But I can’t and won’t live to please people. God is real and He is good and I will live to please Him only. This has been a surprisingly hard realization to come to regarding all of the testing we have endured this year, but I believe things are looking up and I can’t wait to keep giving God the glory!

Wishing you all a happy and healthy 2018!!

Thank you, Chris Tomlin

Ok, so I try not to preface because usually it’s unnecessary, but I feel like I should let you know in case you don’t already just who Chris Tomlin is.  He is a Christian mega-celebrity.  The Beyoncé of contemporary Christian music.  The Sandra Bullock of worship music.  The Taylor Swift of worship leaders in America (minus the pettiness.  Well, I guess I don’t actually know his level of petty, but I’m assuming it’s lower than me and TS’s.). And I, little old me, got a personalized video message of encouragement from him! (See below).

All that said, I had a pretty cool experience this week.  As my “cancerversary” is right around the corner and we have had some pretty big life changes lately, I’ve found myself more pensive than usual.  I’m having a hard time declaring my gratitude to God for his powerful healing in my life from cancer because survivor’s guilt keeps me from proclaiming His healing glory.  And the fact that he used a missionary who prayed over me as a vehicle to showcase that power?  It’s all so wild and unbelievable, and yet being healed from stage 4 terminal cancer is my truth.  Even if just for now.  I mean, I’m already almost 3 years past my oncologist-given expiration date and that’s pretty hard to shake.  Am I boasting?  Well, maybe, but Paul feels me on this:


So at the risk of sounding like a braggart again, stay with me because I think this is kind of cool.  When I was very very sick a few years ago, I wanted to go to Creation festival but couldn’t.  I had been in 2009, and besides being introduced to a little-known up-and-coming rapper named Lecrae, I also got to see Chris Tomlin as he lead worship.  His set is firmly embedded in my memory (even with as much of my memory I’ve lost through radiation and seizures) as a very worshipful and powerful time.  Declaring God’s glory and proclaiming His goodness with thousands of others.  Just awesome.

So fast forward a few years.  I’m literally dying.  My physical body is failing.  I’m mentally prepping for death for myself and prepping my kids for my death and that this time they are 2 & 4.  I bought a burial plot and have asked for an evangelistic service with an altar call.  And amongst so many other supportive and ridiculously amazing people in my life, I have a beautiful and kind-hearted friend who works at the Creation festival.  I message her and tell her, if it’s in any way possible, could she please just tell Chris that his song “Angel Armies” was one of the most healing songs for my weary soul.  It reminded me of God’s power and, at a time when I was powerless to change anything in my own life, it soothed my weary heart to hear that God is still in this.

This is what I got in return:


Ok, I’m not deluded enough to think that some people are better or more important than others, but that was pretty cool!

I had a lot of feelings about this, but mostly I just had to smile at the naive thought that I, a dying person, would somehow get to see Chris Tomlin again in this earthly life.  He was so sweet, but so naive.  I wouldn’t be seeing him and I knew it, but I so appreciated that kind gesture!

And here I am as of a few nights ago.  Seeing Chris Tomlin live and absolutely breaking down and ugly crying during “Angel Armies”​

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It’s a weird, amazing, wonderful, guilt-ridden, triumphant, and awe-inspiring benchmark in this journey.  I have so much more I want to say, but for now I’ll say thanks to Mr. Tomlin for his faith that we would, indeed, see each other in the future (even if I was just a face in the crowd – I’m more than ok with that).  

Life is crazy.  Cancer is terrifying.  But God is steadfast and He is good.  Always. 

But What If

“But what if you are sick?!” She questioned, bottom lip quivering, with all of the composure a 4 year old can muster.  My mind raced with all the intricacies of cancer and how best to soften that blow for a child.  Teary-eyed, I explained to her that if that was the case, that God would take care of us.

But she didn’t want to hear that.  She wanted to hear that Mommy was ok and that Mommy wasn’t sick.  My little girl, who is usually an eager sleeper, refused to go to bed because she knew when she went to sleep that when she woke up I wouldn’t be there.  

So much for routine scans!  “Routine scans” are a mysterious blessing not afforded to all cancer patients and not guaranteed to us at any point.  There was a time in my cancer journey that those words, “routine scans”, sounded like a pipe dream.  Literally something that just wasn’t for me because my time had come and gone.  I always feel great until the night before scans.  And even then, the bad feelings are usually reserved for just me.  But tonight, my daughter caught wind of something that she never really fully understood before.  Yes, Mommy was sick through most of her life but from what she can remember, Mommy has always been there.  Tonight as I laid her down for bed, she wrestled with the fact that I wouldn’t be there when she woke up.

“Mommy just needs to go to the doctor for the day so they can tell me I’m not sick!”  I told her.  She seemed relieved at first, until she thought about it more.  But what if…

Our son is almost 7 and he has always just sort of understood all of this.  Not that it hasn’t been hard on him, but he always took it in stride and seemed to understand.  He didn’t like when I wasn’t there but he got it.  This is the first time Brit has asked so many questions and she just is not ok with the answers.  And I don’t blame her, I just wasn’t ready for this tonight.

Tonight as I was laying with her while she fell asleep (something she begged me for tonight, and never does this) she kept trying to figure out ways, through tear-soaked cheeks that she would get through tomorrow.  She finally said, “Ok Mommy, I will sleep as late as I can then pretend you are at the store and will be home at dinner.  Mommy, promise me you will be home by dinner!”

Of course I can’t promise any such thing, but I see my broken-hearted child before me.  Faced, for the first time in her life, with the understanding that Mommy may not always be there.  And so I try to assure her, with as much confidence as I can muster, that I will do my absolute best to be home for dinner tomorrow.  

My son comes out of his room, curious as to why his sister is crying.  And I have to tell him that he needs to be there for her tomorrow and things will be different but that he can make sure she’s ok.  On the surface, I’m only talking about tomorrow.  But in my heart, I know I’m talking much longer term.

What if?  Well, if something shows up, then I will try my best to be here.  And if I can’t, I need him to step in and help her when I can’t.  It’s symbolic and it’s heavy and it’s real.  I have scans tomorrow and they may be just fine.  But what if…

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Perspective…

Over the past few weeks, I’ve used this word to calm me down in the midst of emotional turmoil.  There have been a lot of exciting things happening (our church plant!! So amazing.  Will update on that later 😊) but also a lot of…not so great things.  Without going into detail, just know that my husband and I have been attacked more in these last few weeks and have had our names dragged through the mud and, honestly, it was really a difficult time.  I like people to like me and to understand where I’m coming from so it’s really hard when you find out you are being grossly misrepresented.  It hurts.  And it sucks.  And it’s completely unnecessary!

Perspective.  I’ve reminded myself that my eternity is not defined by what people say about me or how they perceive my motives.  Or even if they like me!  I trust only in God who sent His son to die on the cross for my sins so that I could be reconciled to Him and do His work.  Period.  If that makes me unlikeable, then so be it.  “”
I’ve come to see how wonderful it is to have people in your life who truly “get” you and support you (or call you out when you’re ridiculous).  But I’ve also realized how much time and energy I was putting into caring about things that just don’t matter.  

Let me quick check my meter for how much unnecessary drama I’m able to tolerate right now….ok, yup, it’s at zero.

Think about what you were most outraged/passionate about today, then think about this- According to stats from UNICEF, 29,000 children under the age 5 have died TODAY from preventable causes!  29,000!!  Starvation, diarrhea, lack of access to vaccines, dehydration, and parasites top the list of why.  You see what I mean?!  There’s just no time for nonsense, there is work to be done. 

Don’t get me wrong, it is completely possible to care about a whole bunch of things all at once, absolutely.  And I love being a part of dialogue where all sides are heard and valued.  I just refuse to believe the worst in people so I’ve chosen to always hear people out.  This has been a wonderful tactic for meaningful connection!  And I’m only sorry I didn’t consciously try it sooner.  

Disclaimer: I’m not trying to sound “better than anyone” (because if I’ve learned anything over the last few months it’s that someone will think that) but just to make us think and, yes, give us some perspective.

Get this, I even stopped blogging because I was worried what people would think of me!  They would think I’m annoying and self-promoting, self-righteous and selfish.  I don’t care anymore.  What I do care about is people.  People who are hurting and suffering here and all over the world.  And I intend to do something about that.

Jesus was very clear and I take his commands and those of the disciples very seriously, so instead of worrying about what others think (and by doing so stopping my effectiveness as a disciple of Christ), I’m simply going to focus in on what I’m commanded to do by the One who holds my heart.  If you want to be a part of this ride, you’re more than welcome to join me!!

I’m going to care for the orphans and widows, I’m going to love God and love people, and I’m going to go and make disciples.  Period.

Try and stop me.