Tag Archives: Cancer

My Cross to Bear

09 Monday Nov 2015

Posted by in Living Faith

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“So you want me to use this turkey meat, but what seasonings do I add to it to make it into sausage?” my sweet husband called up to me as I was closing my Bible and about to make the bed.

“Uh…” I said out loud with wide eyes, thinking, I never measure the herbs and spices, if I try to tell him a guess as to how much to put in, it’ll be more than my brain can handle this early in the morning and he won’t know where to find half of the spices anyway… “How about I come do that for you?”

A few minutes later I was dressed and downstairs, and he had the ground turkey already beginning to sizzle in the pan.

It was Sunday morning and we were getting ready for church. My disposition was remarkably cheerful this week. Sunday mornings can be the most stressful time of the week when you’ve got two small children to get ready, a meal to prepare, toys to pack, Bibles to load—and if you’re homeschoolers, it’s also the only day of the week that you actually have to be out the door by a specific time. Having a history of emotional Sunday mornings is part of what inspired my husband to take over the breakfast prep for me several years ago. Usually it involves pancakes or waffles, but this week it was sausage. Either way, having such a servant-hearted man is an incredible blessing.

But on this Sunday I may have been particularly happy because instead of having to make lunch to bring along with us, I had bought a frozen lasagna the day before and all I had to do was pull it out of the freezer and take it along to our friends’ house. (Who says you can’t ever buy peace of mind?)

Anyway, I’d just pop it in the oven at our friends’ house. Yes, that’s where we were headed. For church.

You see, we are a part of a small fellowship that meets in homes. This week church happened to be at a house only ten minutes down the road from us (perhaps another reason for the minimal stress of our morning). Other than the three year old coming downstairs in a white polo shirt and having to be instructed to wear something different (because I could do the math in my head: White Shirt + Lasagna = Disaster), getting ready and out the door was pretty smooth sailing.

The boys hopped in the van, I buckled up the three-year-old, my husband grabbed his guitar, threw it in the back, and we were set. We got in our seats, closed the doors, looked at the clock, looked at each other, and thought, “We’re early!”

Yes, indeed. It wasn’t yet 9:45 and we only had a ten minute drive to make. Sure, we’d like to have left sooner (maybe one day we’ll get there), and 9:55 is hardly early when the meeting is supposed to start at 10am, but this was progress, and progress is worth celebrating.

To our surprise, as we pulled into the rocky driveway ten minutes later, we found the parking area in the back of the house already full of vehicles. Apparently we were not so very early after all. Oh, well. At least all I had to do when we got inside was turn on the oven and sit down on the couch.

Nathaniel found a chair and set up his guitar while the boys and I found a place on a couch next to my sister-in-law. After singing praises and scripture songs, my father-in-law taught from Mark chapter 8. I was quite tired and admittedly had a hard time paying attention to the first section of verses he covered, but then I woke up a bit when he got to Jesus’ call of discipleship at the end of the chapter.

“Many Christians like to borrow this metaphor of taking up our cross and apply it to trials, saying ‘This trial—whether it be cancer or loss of a loved one—is my cross to bear.’ But that isn’t what Jesus is talking about. Those trials are involuntary—they happen to you. Jesus is making a call to His followers to do something voluntary—to deny themselves and take up their cross and follow Him. Even those who don’t follow Jesus experience trials like illness and loss. Those things are common to life, and certainly there are instructions for us in scripture about those things, but here Jesus calls us to deny ourselves for His sake—to be willing to endure whatever loss comes, not as a result of being human, but as a result of following Christ.”

I mulled over these words, trying to mesh this understanding with my own physical trials—a pregnancy related autoimmune disease and issues that accompany both it and its treatment—even as we moved on to another teaching, and then prayer and singing. After the meeting ended, we enjoyed some good discussion on the subject during lunch, fleshing out what “taking up our cross” might look like—living in obedience to Jesus even when it brings persecution or ridicule, loving Jesus more than this life even though our neighbors might think we’re lunatics, loving the lowly like Jesus did, spending time with them rather than seeking self-promotion and pridefully distancing ourselves from the needy. Our time of fellowship lingered into the evening before we all went home to prepare for the work week ahead.

That night I couldn’t sleep. As often happens when I so desperately need some shut-eye, my mind kept wandering to lesson plans and books and other nerdy and exciting things. Then I began to think again about Jesus’ words in Mark 8. “If anyone will deny himself and take up his cross and follow me…” And then I thought about my father-in-law’s comment that taking up our cross is not an involuntary thing, but a voluntary thing. Despite the practical application we had hashed out over lunch, I still wondered about its application to my trials. So if it’s not the disease and pain that’s my cross to bear, I thought, What is it?

I nudged Nathaniel, who was not quite asleep yet. “You know how your dad said that taking up our cross isn’t an involuntary thing like cancer?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I was just thinking about it some more, and I still have a lot of questions. But I was thinking: Okay, so maybe my disease and whatever pain or other symptoms it causes aren’t my cross to bear, but maybe my choosing to joyfully serve others, to serve the Lord, in the face of that pain would be.”

“That sounds about right. I think that’d be a pretty good application of it.”

“I guess I’d be denying myself the ‘privilege’ of feeling sorry for myself or grumbling, choosing to be joyful instead. And not just for my sake. But for others.”

Nathaniel agreed.

After a pause I lamented, “That’s pretty convicting. That’s not what I usually do.”

We said our goodnights and my sweet, sleepy sounding-board husband drifted off as I lay contemplating this concept in light of the countless believers whose lives I have admired, and in light of Christ’s example. The people I have most looked up to for their faith and strength are those who have joyfully served others despite great physical pain, setbacks, and trials. The Lord Himself laid down His privileges, just in becoming a man! But even more so when He took upon Himself the wrath of God and the pain of public scorn and crucifixion, all the while praying, “Father, forgive them.” The cross wasn’t a hindrance to God’s plan, but the vehicle through which He would bring blessing to the whole world.

From what I can tell, my physical limitations and pains, should the Lord continue to choose not remove them, will be with me in this life whether I embrace them or not. So the ball is in my court: Will I shirk responsibility to respond joyfully and choose to grumble instead? Or will I take up the cross of humble surrender to the Lord’s will, seeking to rejoice in every circumstance and persevere in service to God and to others? On one side is a life of pain and inner turmoil with it. On the other is a life of pain overcome by the grace of God. One choice leads to bitterness and condemnation, the other to eternal joy and glory.

I let out a deep sigh, a kind of physical surrender to the supernatural peace of God that comes when at last we say, “Ok, I trust You.” And finally, too, a few moments later, I surrendered myself to restful sleep.

Here is what I read that evening from Elisabeth Elliot’s devotional, “Keep a Quiet Heart”, that prompted my late-night thoughts on this subject of taking up my cross. God is very kind to ordain even my reading schedule for His purposes and my benefit.

“The worst pains we experience are not those of the suffering itself but of our stubborn resistance to it, our resolute insistence on our independence. To be ‘crucified with Christ’ means what Oswald Chambers calls ‘breaking the husk’ of that independence. ‘Has that break come?’ he asks. ‘All the rest is pious fraud.’ And you and I know, in our heart of hearts, that the sword-thrust (so typical of Chambers!) is the straight truth.

If we reject this cross, we will not find it in this world again. Here is the opportunity offered. Be patient. Wait on the Lord for whatever He appoints, wait quietly, wait trustingly. He holds every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month of every year in His hands. Thank Him in advance for what the future holds, for He is already there. ‘Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup’ (Psalm 16:5, NIV). Shall we not gladly say, ‘I’ll take it, Lord! YES! I’ll trust you for everything. Bless the Lord, O my soul!’”

~In the essay entitled Maybe this Year, page 51

I’ve many a cross to take up now,

And many left behind;

But present troubles move me not,

Nor shake my quiet mind.

And what may be to-morrow’s cross

I never seek to find;

My Father says, “Leave that to me,

And keep a quiet mind.”

~Poem by an anonymous author, page 52

“For those of us who are not at the moment in pain, may we not let slip any cross Jesus may present to us, any little way of letting go of ourselves, any smallest task to do with gladness and humility, any disappointment accepted with grace and silence. These are His appointments. If we miss them here, we’ll not find them again in this world or in any other.”

~ In the essay entitled Love’s Sacrifice Leads to Joy, page 68

Called to Unlikely Service

06 Thursday Aug 2015

Posted by in Home and Family, Living Faith

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Most of the time we think God must call us to serve Him in ways that are consistent with the gifts and interests He’s given us. Take for example, say, a church bulletin board on which are posted numerous opportunities for service within the local body. If I were perusing the options listed, I’d probably consider signing up for teaching a ladies’ bible study, or washing the linens after church events, or making meals for those who are sick or who have just had babies. Those are right up my alley. I can outline a passage of scripture in order to teach it. I do laundry all the time, so what’s another load or two? And sharing good food with others brings me joy. You could call it my love language.

They all seem like reasonable options.

But sometimes we don’t get the luxury of a sign-up sheet. Sometimes the “call” to service isn’t a check-off list in which we get to choose our most preferred ministry style. Sometimes it’s chosen for us. Sometimes it’s just dumped into our laps. Sometimes what we feel called to do is not the same as what God is indeed calling us to right this very moment.

Such has been the case the past few weeks and months.

Confession: Neither my husband nor I are dog people. We like animals alright, and see the need for them to be sweetly cared for—but not by us. We aren’t so much into pets.

But about four months ago, our neighbor Carolyn found out that her husband George had cancer. Brain and lung cancer. And these neighbors, these friends of ours, have two little dogs that mean the world to them.

When I think of friends dealing with cancer, the first things I’m willing to sign up for are to pray for them, bring them meals, and offer to clean for them. While those things are certainly appreciated, what was the first thing we were actually asked to do?

Train their dogs to stay in their yard. Help bury the wire for the invisible-fence-and-collar system to keep the little pooches from getting out again.

Our neighbors were too busy with doctor’s visits, cancer-induced vomiting and headaches, brain surgery, radiation, and dealing with the myriad physical and emotional effects of being in the throes of an ongoing battle against cancer to do it themselves. So, Nathaniel and I, who had no experience training dogs, found ourselves being made useful to the Lord in an area in which we felt woefully under-prepared. To be sure, it was a good experience for us and for our boys to learn about caring for and training dogs. The boys loved it! But it was awkward feeling so under-qualified and knowing that surely there are other people out there who could do a much better job…

Eventually the situation with the dogs was solved, and our less-than-competent services were no longer needed. Praise the Lord He made good of it despite us.

Then there was good news. George’s cancer had all but disappeared! The treatments seemed to be working! He was going for walks around the neighborhood with Carolyn, and even mowing the lawn on his riding lawnmower. We praised the Lord!

But then there was a heart attack. And then pneumonia, which seemed to take him down harder than the cancer had.

And about three weeks ago, the vomiting and severe headaches returned. Something was wrong.

For about a week there was quiet suffering at home as George didn’t want to eat anything because of all the nausea and pain. On a Friday two weeks ago, they went in for a routine check-up with the oncologist at a hospital about an hour away. They haven’t been home since.

George’s cancer had spread to his neck. He had become so weak that he needed to be admitted to the hospital immediately. I got a call that day. It was Carolyn asking me if I could take care of the dogs for a few days. I’d go over to their house a couple times a day to feed and care for the dogs. It was a pleasant enough task, aside from the reminder of George’s failing health every time I entered their empty house.

That week things were very up and down for our friends in the hospital. I suppose you could say they were very up and down in our home, as well. Nathaniel had just arrived home on Sunday from a long business trip, and while we were thrilled to have him home, we had no choice but to welcome him into a gastrointestinal house of horrors. So for several days, I was wiping up puke and diarrhea off of the floor at home and then going over to another house to wipe pee off the floor when the dogs had an accident (which thankfully was only twice). Nathaniel and I didn’t get much sleep at night because the boys were having their issues two or three times a night.

It was at this moment that I had to laugh. I had just been reading a book called Embracing Obscurity, which examines the call of Christ to be lowly servants for His glory rather than seeking to build our own kingdoms of “ministry” for our own glory. It’s been a great read, quite challenging, and here I was seeing the “practical application” of what I was learning. Thanks for the object lesson, Lord! You washed the dirty feet of sinners. This is totally fitting work for one of Your followers. I get it.

The stomach virus finally left us alone and we had a beautiful Saturday working together as a family around the house, taking care of the dogs over at their house, and celebrating our oldest son’s birthday at the lake. But that night we received a distressing text from Carolyn. She wanted us to take the dogs into our home—she didn’t think they were safe at her house.

This was a bit confusing, and the next morning we called her to clarify. There was indeed a situation, so after deliberating (which included me listing all the reasons why it would be a bad idea, and then recognizing those reasons were rather selfish), we said we’d do it.

I mentioned before that we are not “dog people”. What I didn’t mention is that we had both long decided that if we ever were to have a dog, it would most definitely be an outside dog. Our neighbors’ dogs were very decidedly inside dogs. The irony here couldn’t be missed. God was taking one of the few things on our “never” list and asking us to move it to our “whatever you need” list. This was more than just “Come over and help with the dogs and then go back to the relative peace of your own home.” This was invading our space.

I remember when we were deliberating, Nathaniel said something quite insightful: “If we do this, it clearly won’t be for us. It will be out of service to them.” We’ve often talked with our children about the fact that merely helping others when you want to isn’t so helpful. It’s far greater to meet a real need when it arises. Here was our opportunity to practice what we preached. Yet again, we were being called to something that was a rather unlikely service for us. It didn’t fit. There were surely other people who could more easily have taken these dogs into their homes. But here we were—evidence that God doesn’t call the wise or powerful, or even the qualified. He stretches us beyond ourselves and qualifies us for the task by His grace.

So what was our first order of business as doggy foster parents? Well, it was a Sunday morning, so we took them to church! Being a part of a home church has its perks. 😉 And starting out with the dogs in someone else’s home (another dog-owner’s home, to be precise) seemed to ease the transition for us. The dogs were very well behaved, and our church family loved on them and prayed for our neighbors.

The past week has been challenging as I wake up to little ankle-biters that demand my attention more loudly and persistently than do my preschooler and kindergartener. The invasion of my space, and particularly when that space would normally be quiet, has been a kind of static interference in my days. While our sleep was interrupted last week with sick children, it has been interrupted this week by sad puppies who miss their people. Still, I’ve kind of gotten used to it. And we couldn’t have asked for sweeter, cuter, or better behaved dogs. Really, all things considered, caring for them in our home has been quite easy. It’s the caring about our neighbors that has been the hardest.

I finally heard this morning that George has only days to live at this point. We hope to visit him in the hospital before he dies.

There is indeed a time for everything. A time for rejoicing and a time for mourning. A time for serving with our strengths and a time for serving despite our lack of the same. A time for fighting for your life and a time for saying goodbye when your Heavenly Father calls you home.

God is good.

Please pray with us for our friends.

Many Christians estimate difficulties in the light of their own resources, and thus attempt little and often fail in the little they attempt. All God’s giants have been weak men who did great things for God because they reckoned on His power and presence with them.

~Hudson Taylor