Celebrating Cancer?

A few days back, Tim Keller posted on Facebook his two year “celebration” of his pancreatic cancer that he was diagnosed with back in 2020. He called it a celebration because, even with all the accompanying anxieties, setbacks and discomfort he and his wife have been through, there has been a measure of success in the treatment of his cancer over the ensuing period. In his words  

                   “God has seen it fit to give me more time"

and his post also indicated the possibility of future treatment. For many of us who had followed Tim over the years, and gained so much from his teaching, his writings, his leadership, it seemed such an unfair blow at the time, that God should 'take him out' as it were. And yet, here he is, two years, on celebrating with joy, and, I would add, continuing to speak prophetically into our society and our times.

So let me also “celebrate”, my own 'one year on'. Yes, it's almost exactly a year since the original diagnosis of my own melanoma by Dr Joana Panoutsopolou, in Athens.  

    I celebrate, because, as she herself admitted, it was not a typical melanoma and could have been easily overlooked. Who knows how long we might have remained in Greece, before the full extent of my cancer was eventually known, and action taken. 

    I celebrate, because, even though it was incredibly hard leaving Greece and all that we had loved about that new adventure we had only just begun, there were so many unique and miraculous interventions that happened to make the return and entry back into life in N Ireland so smooth.

    I celebrate, because I feel I have learnt so much along this journey - 

about myself and about my God, about mortality and about eternity, about 

    I celebrate, because this new season we are in has brought us closer together as a couple, has enriched our family times together, and has reinforced for me the reality of the ‘great cloud of witnesses’ that surround us as we walk through life.

    And, I celebrate, because, yes, even though I do feel the effects of one year living with cancer, just now I am feeling stronger in myself than I have been in the past several weeks, and, in spite of the negative prognosis, I am appreciating afresh the wonder of God's healing and sustaining power. 

Arise and Be Doing

Over the years, I have kept a journal in several exercises books. 

Somewhere in storage there must be a carton full of tatty exercise books.

(Thinks: someday I really need to compile them into something.) 

The current one I started exactly one year ago, first entry May 2nd 2021.

I happened to glance at what I wrote then. 

That first entry was full of the excitement of our first Easter in Athens:

 

 -  The wonderful drama of a Greek Orthodox Easter, with fireworks and candles at midnight on Saturday

-   Meeting up with our Greek friends through the day

-  Sharing in an Easter service with Iranian refugees, and later 

-  Discovering I was still able to preach in Urdu for the first time in years to a gathering of South Asians in central Athens.

I wrote then about all the possibilities that were opening up ahead. 

What else will God show us about his plans for us in this city?

Yet, barely one month later we were thinking very differently.

Such a lot has happened since then! 

Such a different outlook.

Now in a new season of our lives. 

Unexpected and uncharted territory. 

And a very different pace of life for us. 

But the same God who gave us that richly lived year in Athens is still the same God. I headed that exercise book with a word from the Bible

        "Arise and Let us be Doing!"  

That call to action still stands.

The context and the circumstances may have drastically changed.

But God is still saying to us “Arise and be Doing”. 

** 1 Chronicles 22:16

Shadow Land

This week I saw a picture of my cancer.

My very own cancer cells. 

Bit blurry, I admit, it was a part of an MRI scan I was being shown.

“See the dark area of shadow”, the consultant says, pointing out my vertebrae.

I look closer and see the sinister spots in the bone structure. 

That's what cancer is.

This dark area of shadow.

And it resonated with one other thing I had been told during radiotherapy.

I had asked why patients need to come back each day for what is in effect a 30 second blast of radiotherapy on the exact same spot each time. Why can’t they do it all at once? The answer I was given was this, and - quick disclaimer - I am no expert, so stand to be corrected, was that as radiotherapy can also destroy good cells, the extra day gives those living cells a chance to regenerate, whereas cancer cells don’t.

This dark area of shadow.

Not life giving. Does not regenerate. Is life draining and destructive.

An ancient poet wrote about 

            ‘passing through the valley of the shadow of death.’

Even though cancer may not have been in his thinking, 

my journey with cancer is like that.

It’s a shadow - furtive, creeping, threatening - but just a shadow. 

Death may loom ahead. You may hear it rumbling.

But this enemy is still only a shadow. And the same poet went on to say, but 

         ‘You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemy’

That also continues to be my experience on this journey.

With the shadow ever hanging over me, there is a veritable feast to enjoy right here in this dark valley.

Ok, its figurative language, but sometimes it just feels as though a banquet has been laid out for me -

      - The  little pleasures of life to enjoy in a new way

      - The joys of laughing and sharing with friends, 

      - The huge generosity of those who have been helping

      - The overwhelming sense of God's presence, and 

      - The powerful knowledge that he is the one who heals the broken.

                          "The broken reed he will not break"

This is my wonderful table in the wilderness.

** Psalm 23: 4,5

** Isa 42:3 Matt 12:12

Million Little Miracles

In the middle of these days of  joy, and heaviness, of hope and anxiety, there are always those light hearted moments that happen that just brighten up the day a bit.

One of these moments happened in the middle of last week.

It was a sunny morning and a calm sea. But to be honest, the outlook didn’t make much difference to me.

I had been struggling with an uncooperative digestive system that made eating breakfast or any other kind of meal a real struggle. 

In trying to ‘get it down’ and ‘keep it down’ I had developed the habit of eating a mouthful at the table and then pacing up and down the length of the room, invariably holding onto my stomach as I tried to digest the morsel. After a few lengths of the room (and it’s not a large flat), I was maybe ready to sit down and have a go at the next mouthful. Or maybe not. 

And that’s how it went. The pacing up and down was like a heavy shuffle, accompanied by the occasional groan.

Now during this breakfast ritual, on this particular day, we happened to have some music on, and the track ‘Million little Miracles’ by Maverick City ** happened to be playing. 

It’s a piece of music with a very distinctive and simple rhythm. As I did my pacing, and as I listened to the words, 

          “You hold me steady so I won’t give up 

           You open doors that noone can shut 

            I hope I never get over what You’ve done”

And something seemed to happen to me.

I loosened up.

My heavy trudging back and forth changed.

My feet caught the rhythm of the music. 

The pacing turned into a weird kind of shuffling dance. 

Instead of hugging my heaving gut, I raised my hands heavenward. 

And then Anna was on her feet as well. Her feet finding mine in a kind of morning two step, and there we jived in a moment of just enjoying what God had given us.

And the million little miracles? It all might sound like a bit of hyperbole, but when you been to think of everything little thing you have, everything you have been given, everything God has done for you, and all you have learned along the way, everything you’ve been blessed with. Even down to each glint of morning sunlight dancing on the waves as they pour across Portstewart bay. And each beat of a gulls wing, as they fly across the dawn sky. They soon add up. The million little miracles.

Yes, we’re looking for much bigger miracles to follow, but for now that moment has helped us to give thanks for all those little miracles we have already experienced in our walk with God.

**https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Viiw6tGimHo

Numskulls

So, I was talking to a friend recently about the comics we used to read in our younger days. The Beano, the Dandy were high on our lists. We laughed as we mentioned one particular comic strip which was called the “Numskulls”. It imagined conversations going inside this man’s head between the various organs - the, eyes, the nose, the ears etc, and the disputes and arguments they got into.

Well, there was a moment this last week, (and it was no laughing matter, I can assure you) when I had a very ‘numskull’ type of conversation within myself. To give some context, one of the side effects of the pain medication I’m on is that it can mess with your internal systems. So, here’s how it went at meal time. 

Stomach Admin (SA) to Brain (BR) - Hey I can’t cope with this much food. 

Brain (BR) - But its highly nutritious. And Anna made it really tasty.

SA - Well, I’ve no appetite. There’s just no room down here. Send it back. 

BR - Sorry. No can do. It's already on its way down.

SA - And didn’t you know. The bowel department (BD) are on a go slow. They haven’t been processing stuff for days.

BR - Yes, I got a message about that. They’re going to cause a backlog.

SA - They already have. Its causing me massive cramps.

BR - I'm getting the medics on to it. Just be patient and do your best

BR - Try taking it in in small quantities

BR - And get those BD guys to push a little harder.

Nausea Action Dept (NAD) (interrupting) - Hey guys. We’re here, remember. Just press the button, and  we can eject that stuff at a moments notice!

BR - Now hold on. Is that the wisest move? Your body needs this nutrition.

NAD - Just saying. We’re only here to help.

BR - Well, thanks. But, no thanks.

And so it goes.  Sometimes it’s good to make light of the situation we’re in, even though each day is tough.

In fact, I do find myself actually audibly, talking to my own body from time to time. I tend to add a bit more, taking my cue from what it says in the Bible about our bodies, but you would probably never find this in the Numskulls! 

 "Remember whose you are? 

  You are made, my body, fearfully and wonderfully,** 

   by a good God, a creator God a loving God. 

   He is the one who has ultimate authority over you, my body. 

   He says that you, my body, are the ‘Temple of his Holy Spirit’.** 

   That’s what He calls you. God lives in me. 

   And with all of that authority, I say to you, 

   'Fulfil all of those bodily functions for which you were created. 

   Work together, all of you, to keep me healthy, and to glorify your creator. 

   And if you will not work, if you are determined to rebel against the One who created you, then you can just get out!!"

** Psalm 139:14 “I will praise You because I have been fearfully and wonderfully made”.

** 1 Corinthians 6:19 “do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you”

Driving out the Darkness

 The song, “Drive out the Darkness” by Paul Zach and the Porters Gate musical collective is in my head this Saturday morning, tucked as it is between the Passion of Friday and the Glory of Sunday, and often overlooked as an away day from the spiritual contemplation or religious observances of Easter.

But on this day, I am thinking of those women, those first witnesses, those “Myrrh Bearers” as the Greek Orthodox tradition calls them, those who came bearing spices to anoint the dead body of Jesus on the first morning after the Sabbath ended.

What are they thinking as they pass this awful Saturday in the darkness of unknowing, as they prepare the spices and plan this act of devotion before the first light of day. 

What’s on their minds? Grief? Despair? Disbelief?

With all that they had experienced - the horror, the gore, the screams of agony, the baying of the crowds, and with all that they had observed of the cold limp body being carried in the strong arms of Joseph of Arimathea, did they lose hope? 

I think not. There was too much of Jesus already in them. His words continue to ring in their ears - even those uttered while in his agony on the cross. His compassion still surrounds them, as they trip through the dark night, wondering, ‘who is there even to roll away the stone?’  Here is faith. Faith that says, yes, even now, 

we are confident we will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. 

We don’t know how, but we know that he will in the end drive out the darkness, and bring us into the light.

And as we rise tomorrow to celebrate our own Easter, my hope is with those women. That whether, now or later, he will drive away the darkness of unknowing, and bring us to perceive the light of his goodness during this season of our lives.

“Come o Come

Be our Life

Drive out the Darkness”. **

** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpGu359wRjE

** The illustration is from a Greek Orthodox icon of the women at the tomb. 

The Pain

When all this journey started for us, and I got the initial cancer diagnosis back in April, then the biopsy indicating malignancy in May, and the metastasis to the bones indicated in June, all the time I was feeling fine. And even, as things progressed, and I would go up for my immunotherapy treatment in Belfast and subsequent consultations to discuss the outcomes, I’d say to the doctor ‘But, I’m feeling fine’.  Her matter of fact reply was always ‘and it’s our job to keep it that way as long as we can’. 

However I often found myself thinking in my mind.  So, if cancer is associated with pain, and bone cancer particularly so, then how come I seem to be feeling okay, even if my energy levels are low. And if there is to be pain, then when is it going to hit, and what’s it going to be like, and will I be able to cope, and all sorts of other thoughts, that pop up when your mind begins to wander off on its own like that. Of course, I knew that God was with me, and that a lot of the delay in feeling any specific effects from the cancer had to do with his continued healing and sustaining power within me.

But then about mid February, the Pain did eventually hit. It was not a sudden car crash of pain, but just a growing gradual ache here, and a spasm there. And never just in one place. Sometimes, lower back, sometimes upper chest, now to the left side, now on the right,  sometimes even feeling it in my upper arms or thighs. And it was also hard to identify. Is this bone pain? Or could it be muscular. Did I stretch a muscle yesterday.  I’d ask questions, but the answers I was given were sometimes no more specific than my own vague self diagnosis. 

If you asked me how it felt, I might say, well I feel as though I’ve just gone a couple of rounds in the ring with Amir Khan (though, to be honest, in that context, I’d probably be unconscious after about ten seconds). But it’s that sense of the body being pummelled and punched, and trying to ease the bruises and wounds and find some way to lie down and rest without groaning in agony. Now I’m on regular medications to dull the pain and at least, keep it manageable. So far it seems to be working reasonably well. Though, for a while, it has been very tough. Days and nights when it was hard to focus on anything else but the Pain. (Hence the big gap in writing anything in this blog, for instance)

And the mind continues to trip over all those questions that crop up.  Lord, how long? And, what’s at the end of it all for us? It being Palm Sunday today, the Sunday before Easter, I’m thinking of Jesus entry into Jerusalem, and all the accolades and the crowds of people waving palm branches and shouting “Hosanna, Save now!”. I am wondering just how did Jesus himself approach his coming future Pain, knowing that a time was coming when he was going to have to endure the most unimaginable suffering, and every step along the way, whether in popularity or facing accusations, was one step closer to that moment. 

The account in John’s Gospel, gives an insight into his thinking at that moment. He says in Ch 12:27 

“Now is my heart, troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’?” 

His own answer to this rhetorical question gives me massive encouragement, for it shows Jesus, in his own very humanness, entrusting himself to God the father, whom He knows as a God of compassion and love who does all things well. 

“No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name!”

Lord, may it be so with us also, for all that’s ahead, whatever that may be.

** John 12:27-28 

Light on Dark

Ask any artist and you will know the importance of darkness and shadows in a painting in order to enhance the light. Rembrandt, in particular, was a master at it. The brilliance of light is understood against the shadow of the darkness surrounding it. This season of storms battering the coasts around Portstewart have thrown up some amazing lighting effects, in particular after the storm has passed, and the evening light breaks through. 

I've joined an art class at Flowerfield, and the project I chose to do, deliberately worked with strong highlights and deep shadows. In my previous forays into oil painting, I have always felt myself unadventurous in venturing into dark shades, and the resulting painting tended to suffer somewhat in brilliance and dramatic content.

Recent events in the world, with stories emerging of incredible bravery and perseverance against the odds, have served to highlight even further this  awareness of light shining in a dark place. 

The Bible also, when it talks about the reign of God as king, says that 

“..clouds and thick darkness surround him; righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne..” **

Darkness enhances the brilliance of the light. The dark clouds of evil and unjust aggression only serve to highlight God’s ultimate justice. He is King. He does reign, and he will ultimately bring justice.

** Psalm 97:1,2

Wait!

An awful lot loaded into one little word in the English language.

Wait. It's not ready yet. You’ll ruin it if you take it out now

Wait. Slow down. I can’t keep up with you. My legs are too short

Wait. We can’t rush this. I need some time to think this through.

Wait. It won’t be long now. You’ll be amazed when it gets here.

Wait. There’s nothing more we can do. You just have to be patient. 

There’s a whole lot of principles packed into those five simple examples.

They have a lot do with ‘time’ and ‘process’.

They also involve mismatched expectations and different time frames or levels of understanding.

They also imply that a certain amount of stopping or inactivity is needed for a good outcome.

This much we understand.

Waiting is very much a way of life.

It’s just that when it happens to us, and we don’t have a clear timetable on which to pin our hopes and expectations, waiting becomes difficult.

And if I think I am struggling with the concept right now, and find it difficult to wait…

Then I think then of a nine year old boy in Lisbon. 

Who’s been waiting almost nine months now for an answer.

Both his parents, after a long wait, finally got their permission to move to the UK.

But his passport together with those of his two brothers, somehow got lost in the process of having their permission to move to the UK stamped.

His mother moved to England as her visa to enter was about to expire.

And so he remained in Lisbon with his father and two older brothers.

Waiting. Three months became six months. 

No explanations. No-one to say why there was such a delay.

Eventually after almost nine months, one brother’s passport was returned. 

His father took him over to be with his mother in the UK.

So that left two brothers now at home with Dad

Then his oldest brother’s passport came, so he could go.

So he’s left on his own with Dad, wondering in his nine year old head, why me?

The Bible is often about waiting, but there the periods are even more scary.

Forty years? In the Wilderness? 

Hmm. Maybe my waiting is not so unbearable.

Trudging

Trudging.. something about that word, that sounds just .. tired. 

I’m not a mountaineer by any stretch of the imagination, but I’ve been on a number of hill climbs during my life. Snowdonia, the Lake District, the Scottish hills, the northern mountains of Pakistan. In my experience, there’s something that almost always happens.

The hike starts out with anticipation, and high spirits. There’s a sense of a goal to reach for, a looming mountain on a distant horizon, perhaps. And there’s the enjoyment of small delights along the way - going up a gully by a babbling stream, spotting an eagle or a buzzard or other bird of prey. But then when you have made it up and over the first ridge, you see the peak, as far off in the distance as it ever was, and before you an endless vista of bogland and rough terrain. You get down into it, and starting trudging. It seems endless and impassable. The trek becomes a trudge. One weary foot after another. Stumbling through squelching mud. Your foot gets caught in the roots of bracken. And you just have to keep pressing on.

Since our return from Greece it has seemed like that. That burst of activity getting things sorted, so we could put things in order in Athens. But then to return, and  know that there’s a long and uncertain road ahead. So for now at least, life is about trudging through this bog, and trying to stay positive and look forward and not down.

Return from Athens B: Foxes have Holes

Last week, in the middle of the cleaning, and all the boxes, and the trudging through thick snow between the apartment we were clearing up and our friends’ house where we were now staying, another word from Jesus - 

“Foxes have holes” at one point, he said to someone who was enthusiastically declaring he would follow him wherever, “and the birds of the air have their nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head” **

Suddenly from the context we were living, and in the midst of all the insecurity of leaving a place we loved, and packing up with no clear idea of what’s ahead, that word carried a particular poignancy.

Here’s the Lord of all the Universe, the incarnate Son of God, the one of whom John said, in his Christmas account,** that he came and dwelt among us, or more literally, "pitched his tent" among us. And, here, he is saying, I don’t actually have a home here, you know. Of course, we understand that he had a parental home in Nazareth, where he spent his childhood and youth. But it would appear that, for much of the three years of active ministry leading up to his death on the cross, Jesus lived as an itinerant teacher, eating and sleeping wherever he found a welcome. 

That word is also a statement of his detachment from this world in which we live. He, who came from the glory of heaven, entered this world at a particular place and time, moved among his community, loved them, gave himself for them, was completely committed to them, but he never actually belonged. He never possessed a piece of land, built a house or raised a family. His was a temporary residency. 

So, when we think of all that, our own displacement from Greece back to N Ireland, pales into insignificance, and just as the “treasures in heaven” take on a new meaning, so too the idea of “I go to prepare a place for you … that where I am there you may be also,” ** becomes hugely significant for us.  

** Luke 9:58, John 1:14, John 14:3

Return from Athens A : Moth and Rust

Leaving a place, we become possessed with our possessions.

   - The things we have that we don’t want. 

   - The things we have that we can’t take with us. 

   - The things we have that we don’t want to let go.

Stuff takes on an undue importance when you’re leaving a place.

So it’s good to reminded by Jesus familiar saying, that the “stuff” we own is temporal, gets corrupted by moths and by rust, and other destructive forces. **

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, 

where moths and rust corrupt, and where thieves break in and steal

But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven” 

The thing that we often don’t think about is the corrupting power of the “stuff” itself. Or, not so much the material possessions themselves, but the effect they have on us, especially on our relationships. The ownership of things tends to play on our emotions big time, stirring up the baser instincts of our sinful selves, the envy, selfishness, the greed and jealousy.  And this is intensified at times of loss, or displacement.

On the larger scale, the destructive effect of “stuff” on relationships is seen at times when there's a death in a family, where the simple reading of a will can quite literally tear that family apart.

On the micro scale, it happens as well, with us, for example. As we sorted through, sold off, packed, or otherwise disposed of our belongings and our life over this last 18 months since arrival in Greece, there arose all sorts of minor disputes and tensions over this thing and that thing. 

This word of Jesus, then, has been so important for us these past two weeks.

Important to be reminded that, even though the “stuff” is important for us as we relocate back to N Ireland, our “heart treasures” need to be deposited elsewhere, safe from corruption and decomposition. It is that focus on the  “heart treasures” that will help heal those relationships when they become corrupted by the "stuff".

** Matthew 6:19-21