Final Post: That He May Be Glorified

As you have probably noticed, I have been publishing blog posts less frequently in the past several months. Life with three little kids is always busy, of course. But I am very glad to say that the main reason for publishing posts less frequently has been that I have not had too many noteworthy medical updates to share. I did have a reconstructive surgery on May 1^st to make some adjustments to my chest and to repair scar tissue on my abdomen, and in August I will have one more small surgery, but other than that things have been fairly normal in terms of my health. I do still have some ongoing health issues, but I am cancer free and overall I am feeling better now than I have since my cancer treatments began in November of 2010. In a very real sense, my “cancer journey” is over. And so this will be my final post to my blog.

It was my husband’s idea for me to write this blog. When we intially discussed the idea, we thought of three main reasons why it would be a good idea.

First, we thought it would be an efficient way to keep people updated on my health. And it did turn out to be a great way to not only keep friends and family informed, but to connect with and minister to others who were going through similar health issues. Over the course of 20 months, I published 140 posts. According to my Blogger Statistics, my blog was viewed over 86,000 times by people as close as my own neighborhood and as far away as New Zealand. My story and blog information was shared by others through word of mouth, e-mail, Facebook. And in God’s providence, I was asked to share my story and blog information with the entire Savannah community through two newspaper articles, three television interviews, and a story in The South magazine (which will be published later this week). I am so thankful that so many people in so many places read my blog – not because I wanted to be known – but because I wanted God to be known through me. Like my dad, I wanted to use my cancer for God’s glory. And if just one person was encouraged in whatever struggle they faced, or if just one person was prompted to trust in Christ by faith for their salvation, of if just one person was able to make sense of God’s goodness in the midst of suffering, it was all worth it.

Second, we thought writing a blog would be a good idea because it would be a unique way to capture the experiences and emotions of this time in our family’s life. Yes, it would help us remember various medical details (we have consulted my blog more than once as we tried to remember when various tests or surgeries happened), but it would also help us remember the experience through pictures, prayers, and simple statements of joy, pain, or confusion. It is amazing to look back through the blog entries and remember what was going through my mind when I was diagnosed, or when I was going through chemotherapy, or when a friend came to visit, or when my kids did or said something memorable. This blog has helped me remember, and give thanks for, each twist and turn in my journey.

And third, we thought writing a blog would be a blessing for our children. Once they are grown, our three kids will probably not remember much if anything from these past 20 months (Lydia is 5, Hudson is 3, and Samuel is 20 months). But we believe these 20 months will be formative for who we are as a family for decades to come. And so it was important to us to do what we could to help our children understand and appreciation this time in our family’s life. At the very least, it will help them know how much of a blessing they have been to me during this time. And Lord willing, just like my dad’s cancer journal was a blessing to me, perhaps my cancer journal will be a blessing to them. Of course, I pray that none of them will have to face their own struggle with cancer; but if they must, I pray this might help them face it by faith, discovering the joy in the journey themselves.

I’m so glad my husband encouraged me to write this blog. It has helped others know my story and my God, it has helped us remember the experience, and it will, we hope, be a blessing to our children. But there is one more reason I am glad my husband encouraged me to write this blog – and it’s something neither of us anticipated. The reason is this: it has forced me to pause the activities of my life in order to think about the meaning of my life in a biblical way. Secular psychologists might call it, “therapeutic.” I would call it, “devotional.” If you know my personality, you know it’s not easy for me to stop doing things, and it’s not natural for me to be reflective. And if you knew my heart, you would know that it’s not natural for me to think about my life in a biblical way. God has been so good and so gracious to teach me so many lessons through the process of writing these 140 blog posts. He has driven me to His Word again and again for counsel, correction, and comfort. And He has helped me see again and again His wisdom, grace, and goodness to me in Jesus.

As I paused one last time (on this blog) to think about the meaning of my life in a biblical way, Matt pointed me to a passage that I heard a lot growing up – Isaiah 61:1-3. It is from this passage that my dad got the title for his radio ministry, “Oaks of Righteousness,” and I can’t hear it without thinking of him, his voice, and how God anointed him – like Isaiah – to bring the good news of the gospel to me and so many others. And it is from this passage that I can clearly see the “big picture” of what God has been doing in my life over the past 20 months.  

The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to grant to those who mourn in Zion—           to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified (Isaiah 61:1-3).

Matt explained the passage like this, "The prophet Isaiah is promising the exiled Israelites (who are poor, brokenhearted, captive, bound, mourning, and faint in spirit), that healing, freedom, favor, justice, comfort, beauty, gladness, and praise was coming. In an immediate sense, those blessing would come as they were given the freedom to return to Jerusalem and restore their identity as God’s people. But in an ultimate sense, those blessings would come as the 'good news' (gospel) of salvation in Jesus Christ was proclaimed to them. A rebuilt temple (a temporary, earthly blessing) would certainly give them a measure encouragement and strength, but only Christ (a permanent, spiritual blessing) would make them true, deep, lasting encouragement and strength. Only Christ could make them be, 'oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD.'"

I have received many temporary, earthly blessings in the past 20 months: good doctors, a loving family, supportive friends, a caring church, effective treatments, financial help, the joy of my children, a timely care package or card, the opportunity to speak to others about my struggle, and the list could go on and on. All of them made my struggle with cancer a little easier as they have given me comfort and gladness. And God was gracious to give me each one, at just the right time, in just the right way, in order to give me a measure of encouragement and strength. But at the end of the day, these things are temporary and earthly. As Matt explained, it is like the Israelites rebuilt temple, they are susceptible to decay and destruction. Cancer – like other hardships in life – strip away our confidence in such temporary and earthly things, and forces us to consider more ultimate and eternal things.

Just like Isaiah promised, the ultimate “good news” is not an announcement of remission, the forgiveness of debt, or the joy of family. The ultimate “good news,” and what has made me an “oak of righteousness, a planting of the LORD,” is not anything earthly, but is Christ alone. On my own, I am not strong – not in the eyes of the world, and certainly not in the eyes of God. But through Christ, I am made strong. I am a tree, not corrupted by sin, or withering under the guilt of its sin, but a tree that stands tall in confidence before God and man because of Christ. A tree that is healthy with the nourishment that comes through God’s Spirit and from God’s Word. A tree that is radiant and beautiful because of the surpassing beauty of Jesus Christ the righteous crucified for me.

It is this gospel, this good news, that gives me strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow as I face the uncertain circumstances of life. Trusting that I am secure, body and soul, in God through Christ, I can face the hardships of life knowing that if God has done the greater (given me salvation in Christ), he can surely do the lesser (care for my body and soul in the midst of hardship). Through these past 20 months and 140 blog posts, my confidence in the supremacy of Christ and the sufficiency of the gospel has been strengthened. And for that, I am grateful.

In the end, my prayer is Isaiah's final promise: "that He may be glorified." The ultimate outcome of God showing me grace by making me an "oak of righteousness" is not the blessing that comes to me, but the glory that goes to Him. His grace. His mercy. His love. His righteousness. His justice. His purpose. His glory. I pray that in some small way, my life and this blog might glorify Him.

Just like I can’t think of Isaiah’s metaphor, “oaks of righteousness,” without thinking of my dad, I can’t hear the band Page CXVI without thinking of my journey through cancer. And so it is fitting, I think, that I include one of their hymn arrangements in my final post. Just today they released a music video for their arrangement of the hymn, “How Deep the Father’s Love for Us,” by Stuart Townend, which is embedded below. The third verse of this hymn is very fitting as I close:

I will not boast in anything – no gifts, no power, no wisdom;

But I will boast in Jesus Christ – His death and resurrection.

Why should I gain from His reward? I cannot give an answer.
But this I know with all my heart: His wounds have paid my ransom.

Amen! To God be the glory!

Thanks for reading. Thanks for praying. God bless.

A Puzzle Piece

God has been challenging me in a lot of ways, especially health-wise. But even more He is showing me how small I am and how big He is. A friend recently sent me an excerpt from a sermon from a pastor in Florida.  As I read it I coudn't help but subsitute my own name throughout the writing.

I like to think of my life like a puzzle-piece.  It's one part of a really big picture that I cannot see.  In fact, all that I can see is my one little piece!  I can see its colors and hues and shapes and I can speculate about what it all is and about what it all means, but that's the best that I can do because I can't see the big picture that it fits into.  I can't see the overarching theme into which my little puzzle-piece life fits, and in which alone, its final meaning and purposes are found.  God alone sees the big picture.  God alone has the box top of the puzzle.  In fact, he created that picture.  It's his puzzle.  And here's the deal: he also created my little life, with all of its colors and hues and often odd, nonsensical shapes.  And, he created it to fit into the whole of his really big picture and, in finding its place in his picture (and only then and only there), to make perfect sense. 

As a result, I think that it's unreasonable to expect that my life will always make perfect sense to me in the here and now.  My vision is too limited.  The scope of my wisdom is too small.  And God (and life, for that matter) has not led me to believe otherwise.  I go to God's word and he tells me directly that his thoughts are not my thoughts and that his ways are not my ways.  He tells me plainly that, as the heavens are higher than the earth, so also are his thoughts than my thoughts (Isa 55:8).  So then, what is he telling me?  Well, at the very least, he's saying:

"Erin, you're finite; I'm infinite!  You're limited; I'm unlimited.  By your very nature you are incapable of comprehending all of my thoughts and ways and you cannot reasonably expect to be able to do so!  Such an expectation is illogical.  Erin, there will be things in your life for which you have no explanation.  Expect it!  Things that make no sense.  Anticipate it!  Pain that seems meaningless and pointless, from your itty bitty, microscopic, puny, infinitesimally small, sin-stained, corrupted, perspective.  So, if I can just say this somewhat gently, get over yourself and stop arrogantly assuming that I am as limited as you are and that, just because you can't make sense of it all, that I won't be able to make sense of it either.  Stop with your faithlessness and do what I've called you to do: to trust me even when nothing makes sense, for what is faith?  Erin I've told you what faith is.  I've given you its definition.  I'm not hiding these things from you!  I've put it in my word.  Go to my word!  Faith is the assurance of things hoped for (not things actualized, not things already in your hands), faith is the conviction of things NOT seen (as opposed to what you can, in this life, see - Heb. 11:1).  And, there are plenty of things, my daughter that you have not yet seen (like the whole rest of my really big and amazing picture!).  Have your read the story of Job, Erin?  Have you read what I ordained in life for him?  Have you compared your sufferings to that most famous of all sufferers?  Did you notice that there were TONS of things happening in that story which fully justified and made sense of his sufferings, but that Job was completely unaware of (thus, his, and your, questionings).  Have you read what I said to him? (Job 38-42)  Perhaps you should read it again.  And, have you considered my Son, Jesus.  Who left all of heaven with all of its glories to suffer trials and temptations like no other man (even you).  A man of sorrows who can fully sympathize with your weaknesses, yet without sin.  And a man who, on the cross, asked 'why?'  Now there's something you can relate to!  And what was the answer.  Well, in that moment, there was no answer.  But you know that answer, Erin, don't you?  The answer is 'for you.'  You're not supposed to know the answers to every question life leads you to pose (and there will be many).  I am supposed to know the answer and here's the thing: I do.  You are supposed to trust in me and when you doubt my love or goodness, you're supposed to go to the cross, over and over and over again, where my love for you is forever and indelibly written in the most precious ointment ever fashioned: the blood of my precious Son.  It is a healing balm for the troubled heart and mind.  So, Erin, stop with your fussing.  Enough with your anger (put it away).  Quit demanding answers that you are not even equipped to understand and run instead to my cross, which was a tree of death to my Son, but which is a tree of life to you.  Eat the fruit of his body and blood and come home, my son, to the Father who loves you, who collects all of your tears in his bottle (Ps. 56:8) and who promises one day to wipe them all away (Rev. 21:4) as I reveal to you the great beauty of your life as it finally finds its place in my picture.  There, the colors and hues and odd, nonsensical shapes will suddenly make sense.  And there you will stand in awe of how I can take even the darkest, most evil, awful things (like the unjust murder of my own Son, for example) and, out of them, bring light and beauty and goodness and life.  Come home, my daughter.  Do not delay."

I pray that I will continuously be reminded of these truths.  I had a CT scan of my kidneys and an MRI of my brain a few days ago.  I read this during the days that I was awaiting the results of those tests.  My life could have, once again, taken a dramatic turn.  But what seems dramatic to me would have just been one small blip in the scheme of things.  One more small way that Christ wanted to show his glory. 

Thankfully those tests came back with no metastatic disease.  Praise the Lord!  I will have a couple more tests next week.  I would appreciate continued prayers as I get those tests done and prepare for my reconstructive surgery on May 1st.

I Don't Know Why

I don't know why...
 
I had a doctor's appointment yesterday because I have had some bleeding problems for the past 6 months.  They finally decided that I need to have a CT scan on my kidneys and a cystoscopy procedure to rule out kidney disease or bladder cancer that my chemo could have caused.  
 
I don't know why I got cancer...
I don't know why I had to do treatments...
I don't know why I was allergic to the treatment...
i don't know why they found more...
I don't know why my surgery went wrong...
I don't know why my body developed heart issues...
I don't know why my body is so weak...
I don't know why my kidneys are having problems....
 
All I KNOW is that God is in control and he WILL NOT give me anything that I cannot handle with His help.  

All I KNOW is that God is giving me these trials in my body to draw me to have a deeper dependance on Him.

All I KNOW is that it is not my job to worry about my health, but trust that the great physician will heal me completely, whether that be here on earth or in heaven.

All I KNOW is that I have the joy of giving Christ the glory in all circumstances because he is my King!
 
I was reading in the book, "Calm My Anxious Heart," by Linda Dillow and she spoke to my heart through a chapter focusing on Habakkuk and the "why" question:
 

Habakkuk was to live by faith. This same statement is repeated three times in the New Testament: "The just shall live by faith" (Romans 1:17; Galatians 3:11; Hebrews 10:38). In other words, God didn't explain why; instead He told Habakkuk to trust Him with all his whys. Habakkuk was to trust God for what he didn't understand, what he couldn't see. He was to walk in the dark with God.
 
From a human perspective, this answer is frustrating. We want to know why. Surely God should explain Himself to us. Sometimes He does, but often He does not. God is God and He doesn't need to explain Himself. If we could fully comprehend God, He wouldn't be God -- He would be like us. In those instances when God doesn't tell us why, we will have to wait until we're in heaven for our answers.
 
Habakkuk realized this. Although he didn't get the response he wanted, he affirmed that God is God, in spite of Habakkuk's human lack of comprehension. Habakkuk praised God in his spirit, yet in his body he was quaking in his boots! "I heard and my inward parts trembled, at the sound my lips quivered. Decay enters my bones, and in my place I tremble, because I must wait quietly for the day of distress, for the people to arise who will invade us (Habakkuk 3:16)."
 
I love this description of this dear saint -- trembling, in agony of spirit, in so much pain that he said his bones were decaying! This encourages me, as my body often rebels when I'm trying to trust in my spirit. And even though his body and soul were quaking, Habakkuk declared what I believe is the most beautiful proclamation of faith in the Bible.

"Though the fig tree should not blossom, and there be no fruit on the vines, though the yield of the olive should fail, and the fields produce no food, though the flock should be cut off from the fold, and there be no cattle in the stalls, yet I will exult in the Lord, I will rejoice in the God of my salvation. The Lord God is my strength, and He has made my feet like hinds' feet, and makes me walk on my high places (Habakkuk 3:17-19).

 
What an incredible statement of trust in God!
 
My hope is that I will not keep asking myself why, but that I will trust God with all the whys. Please pray that I can get these tests done and have nothing to worry about before I go in for my final surgery. Thank you for your prayers!