Jesus Draw Me Ever Nearer

After I was diagnosed with cancer, my friend (and our church's Minister of Youth and Music) came back from the Shepherds' Conference with a song that he had just heard.  The song was one I knew but hadn't heard for a while, "Jesus Draw Me Ever Nearer".  I listened to the lyrics closely, and it made me cry.  Austin wanted the two of us to do the song for offertory at GBF.  We were finally able to sing it today.  I'm grateful for the words and how God used Austin to remind me of such an appropriate song for this time in my life.

"Jesus Draw Me Ever Nearer"
Music by Keith Getty; Words by Margaret Becker

Jesus, draw me ever nearer

As I labour through the storm.

You have called me to this passage,

and I'll follow, though I'm worn.

May this journey bring a blessing,

May I rise on wings of faith;

And at the end of my heart's testing,

With Your likeness let me wake.

Jesus, guide me through the tempest;

Keep my spirit staid and sure.

When the midnight meets the morning,

Let me love You even more

May this journey bring a blessing,

May I rise on wings of faith;

And at the end of my heart's testing,

With Your likeness let me wake..

Let the treasures of the trial                                  

Form within me as I go - 

And at the end of this long passage,

Let me leave them at Your throne.

May this journey bring a blessing,

May I rise on wings of faith;

And at the end of my heart's testing,

With Your likeness let me wake.

Why God Doesn't Always Heal

Hi everyone, sorry for the lack of updates on my part.  I just am not quite sure what to post at the moment.  Life continues, and the world spins madly on.  Praise God that the King is still in control.

I had a check-in with my oncologist, and we chatted about how I'm doing with the treatment.  I feel very fortunate not to be experiencing any side effects from the treatment, but my doctor reminded me that things will probably get more noticeable over the next rounds of treatment.  We won't know for a few months if the cancer is responding to the treatment.  At minimum, I'll be on the same regiment for the next couple of months.  If the cancer doesn't seem to be responding as well as we hope, we'll switch up the regiment.

And so, I'm back to adjusting to this new life.  Pills every morning and night (with tons of pills on Fridays), a blood test every Thursday at 6:30am, and a shot every Friday afternoon.  It's quite manageable, but understanding the reality that at some point I'll probably start feeling the effects is sobering and a little sad.  Still, my home church pastor (who also had his own fight with cancer) reminded me that God gives sufficient grace for each step of the journey.  I find comfort in that.

I also came across an article that J. Todd Billings (author of Rejoicing in Lament) wrote.  It's also a good reminder: Why Doesn't God Always Heal?  I like the closing of his article:

"Whether or not healing comes now, we pray for the strange work of God to be manifest on the path of illness, even if our desires for a glowing and tidy middle-class life have to be put on the cross."

God's been definitely blessing us over the past several weeks though.  I still receive encouragement after encouragement from friends, family, and coworkers.  I'm finding a lot of comfort in the Psalms and how the psalmist deals with trying times.  God is good.  May I never forget that.

Not Our Own

“We are not our own: let not our reason nor our will, therefore, sway our plans and deeds. We are not our own: let us therefore not set it as our goal to seek what is expedient for us according to our flesh. We are not our own: in so far as we can, let us therefore forget ourselves and all that is ours. Conversely, we are God’s: let us live for him and die for him. We are God’s: let his wisdom and will therefore rule all our actions. We are God’s: let all the parts of our life accordingly strive toward him as our only lawful goal.” -John Calvin

Accepting cancer and living with it becomes much easier when I realize that I have no claim on my own life.  I have been bought with a price, and I am His.

Myeloma Virotherapy

This sounds exciting: http://brianduriemd.myeloma.org/?q=content/can-polio-or-other-viruses-treat-myeloma

-b

Chemo Update

So far the chemo treatments haven't been bad (praise God!).  I have noticed one side effect though - sweet-flavored things no longer taste very sweet.  The nurse did say that chemo could affect the palette, but it's still a little sad given how big of a sweet tooth I have.  Still, this is a good reminder that the joys of this world pale in comparison to the sweetness of walking with Christ.

In other news, for the first time since diagnosis, my total protein levels are back in a normal range!  (The total protein count from my physical was what caused the doctors to run more tests which eventually resulted in the multiple myeloma diagnosis).  While it seems to indicate that the treatment is starting to work, it doesn't necessarily mean that the amount of cancer in my bone marrow is going down; we won't know that for sure until we run more specific tests in a couple of weeks.  Still, praise God!

Oh ... and a third praise God for the day - Christ is risen!

-b

Christ and Suffering

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/fuller/2015/04/our-fear-of-good-friday/

I'll admit that I don't fully know how to process my cancer.  In many ways, my diagnosis has created a disconnect within myself.  On the one hand, I've seen the goodness of God more clearly than before the news of my cancer.  I've seen that this cancer has brought me closer to God, to my wife, to my friends and family.  I've seen this increase my faith and strengthen my prayer life.  I've seen God provide me with unique opportunities to talk about my faith with people I never would have in the past.

And yet, every once in a while, a wave of sadness will wash over me.  I won't even see it coming sometimes.  On Sunday I started crying during Sunday School as Derek taught on the Psalms.  One morning this week I was just struck with the sorrow of having cancer.  When the sorrow comes, I honestly don't know what to do with it.  In my head I know that feeling sorrow is okay; I see that throughout Scripture.  The Psalmist mourns and pleads for justice and vindication.  Job brings his pain and questioning before God.  Even Jesus Christ himself weeps over the death of Lazarus.  Being broken before God is no sin.

But every time I start to mourn and feel sad, I have to stop myself.  For me, the sadness makes me feel incredibly ungrateful.  What happened to all of those great things that God has been doing in the midst of this cancer?  Aren't all of those things undeserved gifts from God?  Surely I don't deserve better than cancer after rebelling against God time and time again.  On top of that, I look at so many Christians that are going through even greater trials than my own.  I have dear friends that have young children with cancer.  I have friends that have recently miscarried.  Others are dealing with cancers much more painful than my own.  The persecuted Church around the world is facing great persecution in order to follow Christ.  In light of all of that, who right do I have to feel sorrow?

In his article, "Our Fear of Good Friday", Michael Wright comments about someone needing to tell him "don't use the suffering of others to dismiss your own."  He's right, of course.  God gives each of us our own unique trials, but the trials of others do not diminish the seriousness of our own.

A dear brother met with me yesterday and asked a poignant question.  In trying to so quickly "look on the bright side" when the waves of sadness hit, is the real issue that I'm afraid of experiencing a depth of anguish?  Am I afraid to be broken before God?  Perhaps, but it's more complicated than that.

In high school and college, I struggled with depression which stemmed from insecurity and pride.  I would so often fall into pits of self-pity and questioning the goodness of God.  Why can't I have this?  Why can't I be like this person?  In hindsight, my thoughts and actions were just so incredibly sinful and self-centered.  By the grace of God, it hasn't been a struggle for several years, but I'm incredibly wary of falling into that dark pit again.  Part of the challenge of coming to terms with cancer and processing it emotionally is that I'm worried that once I start expressing pain and anguish to God, I might fall back into depression.  While this is a valid concern, I do recognize that I could be missing out on deepening my faith in Christ by not bringing my pain and sorrow before Him.

I'm so grateful for the example of Jesus Christ.  As Michael Wright points out, "On Good Friday, Christ himself experiences forsakenness and suffering that rends his body and threatens his trust in God."  Christ was in anguish in Gethsemane, and He suffered excruciatingly on the cross.  He laid all of that before His loving Father, even asking for the cup to pass from Him.  But ultimately, His unfailing faith allows Him to commit His spirit to God.

In the suffering of Christ, I find there is no shame in pain, sorrow, and anguish.  When I express those to Him, I'm expressing to one who can relate and empathize for He Himself suffered greatly.  It's easy to overlook Good Friday and simply celebrate Christ's victory over death on Easter, but Good Friday is worth celebrating, for it's on Good Friday that "the cross becomes an icon of suffering and a bedrock example of Christ's love."

Thank you, Jesus, for being the suffering servant, the sacrificial lamb, and the great high priest who sympathizes with our pain and weakness.

Good Friday

Good Friday puts life and cancer into perspective.  The only reason why Christians have any hope is because Jesus took on our sin, was punished for our sins on the cross, and then rose again.

"For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." -2 Corinthians 5:21

"Who has believed what he has heard from us?
    And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?
2 For he grew up before him like a young plant,
    and like a root out of dry ground;
he had no form or majesty that we should look at him,
    and no beauty that we should desire him.
3 He was despised and rejected[b] by men;
    a man of sorrows,[c] and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
    he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
4 Surely he has borne our griefs
    and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
    smitten by God, and afflicted.
5 But he was pierced for our transgressions;
    he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
    and with his wounds we are healed.
6 All we like sheep have gone astray;
    we have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
    the iniquity of us all."  (Isaiah 53:1-6)

Hark! the voice of love and mercy
sounds aloud from Calvary;
see, it rends the rocks asunder,
shakes the earth, and veils the sky:
'It is finished! 'It is finished!'
hear the dying Savior cry.

'It is finished! O what pleasure
do the wondrous words afford!
heavenly blessings without measure
flow to us from Christ the Lord:
'It is finished! 'It is finished!'
saints the dying words record.

Finished all the types and shadows
of the ceremonial,
Finished all that God had promised;
death and hell no more shall awe;
'It is finished! 'It is finished!'
Saints, from hence your comfort draw.

Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs,
Join to sing the pleasing theme,
his great finished work proclaim;
Saints on earth and all in heaven
Join to praise Immanuel's name:
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Glory to the bleeding Lamb!