For the Moments I Feel Faint

Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
and to him who has no might he increases strength.
Even youths shall faint and be weary,
and young men shall fall exhausted;
but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
they shall walk and not faint.
-Isaiah 40:28-31

I am not someone prone to weariness. I am an optimist who typically only experiences occasional bouts of the blues and they rarely last long. Yesterday was one of those dark days. Heather has been experiencing wave upon wave of side effects from surgery and chemotherapy including multiple infections, back pain, nausea, and fatigue. Every time it seems that she is getting better, something else comes along.

I was looking forward to yesterday. A day of Thanksgiving. A morning spent in the woods with a good friend. A reprieve. I prayed that I might make it through the morning hunt, that Heather would feel well, that my children would behave, and that I would come home refreshed.

Despite a brisk morning and a deep chill, on the drive home I felt good, but then I found out that a friend had to come to take the kids. Heather could not manage the 6 hours I was gone. I felt irritated, worried, and guilty but more than anything, I felt the weariness that had begun to abate seeping back in. I felt weighed down again. When we went to bed last night, Heather asked me if I was okay. I told her that I felt overwhelmed with all of the responsibility on my shoulders. I was that young man who fell, exhausted.

This morning, I awoke with a renewed sense of calm. I was reminded yet again that I will not make it through this on my own, but only through God's uplifting strength. As I read Isaiah 40 this morning, he reminded me that as I wait on Him, He will be my supply, my strength, my source.

Unfiltered Joy

It has been a frequent occurrence lately that people will ask me how I am doing. I explain that despite barometric emotions, I am largely doing quite well. This prompts the inevitable question, "no, how are you really doing? Are you just putting on a brave face?" to which I answer, honestly, "I really am doing well. God has thus far granted me grace enough to persevere and I pray that it continues."

I admit, though, that today was a trial. Since Saturday evening, Heather has been battling a bacterial infection that has left her nauseous, febrile, and hurting. Because I am a light sleeper and I feel her pain, as she tosses and turns or rushes to the bathroom, I lie there wondering what I can do know that that the answer is "nothing" except to pray. So I pray--for sleep, for comfort, for reprieve, for God's will. So in my fatigued state as I watched my wife wracked by pain, retching, I wondered, "is this what chemo will bring? Are we in for 16 weeks of this? or more?"

Mid-day, Grace spoke with Gen Thul (please check out her wonderful writings here), who invited us for dinner tonight along with the Fugates for a pseudo-small group. Once I felt assured that Heather was comfortable and in the capable hands of her mother, I looked forward with anticipation to the reunion with our dear friends. You see, we had been apart for much too long not just because of Heather's cancer, but also because Gen and Aaron's third daughter, Amelia, was in the hospital for 10 days with encephalitis and only recently returned home.

Grace, Ian, and I arrived first to visit with Aaron for a few minutes followed shortly thereafter by Gen and the kids. Finally, Zack and Sara arrived, nearly completing the reunion as Heather remained home to rest. The excited anticipation was just one of the wonderful feelings I experienced tonight. As our children, who missed each other desperately, fell into their old routines, sounds of excited chatter, laughter, and even happy screaming emerged from upstairs with a greater intensity than we have heard in a long time. I felt their emotions in my own heart as well as I was able to visit and joke with friends whom I cherish dearly.

I think that if Satan wants to attack God's followers, he merely needs to isolate we Christians. We function best in community. I truly feel strength, rejuvenated strength, in fellowshipping with these people. As I watched and listened to our children together, I was struck that they seem to be more than just friends, they are more closely connected than that. In the same way, Heather and I consider these people--Aaron, Gen, Sara, and Zack--more than just members of our Bible study, more than just friends. They are truly our brothers and sisters in Christ and we love them dearly.

John 13:34--"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another."

Learned Helplessness

In 1967, Martin Seligman conducted one of the most groundbreaking studies in the history of psychology. He described a phenomenon called learned helplessness, whereby dogs repeatedly exposed to shock with no hope for escape eventually learned to just lay down and whine when shocked, even when escape became possible. Learned helplessness was foundational to modern psychology's understanding of depression.

I had not thought of this term in a long time, but a confluence of factors brought it back to mind. At the end of his excellent book A Praying Life, Paul Miller wrote, "Learned helplessness lurks just underneath the surface of [my] prayer time. I simply can't do life on my own. Without God's intervention, I am completely helpless. I need Jesus" (p. 260). I have experienced learned helplessness very profoundly during the month of October. I was co-directing the capital campaign at church. I was helpless. We were awaiting Tessa's court date, not sure of what the outcome might be. I was helpless. Heather was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was helpless. Amelia, the daughter of some of our dearest friends, lies in the hospital in a grave neurological state. I am helpless.

Helpless, Helpless, Helpless

There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that I can do apart from God. He is my ever constant help in trouble. These recent situations have all helped me to learn that I am indeed helpless, but I am not hopeless. I serve a powerful God who loves me. Though I may not understand why or how, He will work all things out to His glory. May I never forget that in Him, there is hope.

I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, he who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is your keeper;
the Lord is your shade on your right hand.
The sun shall not strike you by day,
nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all evil;
he will keep your life.
The Lord will keep
your going out and your coming in
from this time forth and forevermore.

-The 121st Psalm

The Breath Before the Pain

Yesterday, Ian hit his mouth on a chair, but there wasn't an immediate reaction. He paused for a moment before he began to wail. I have often found that reprieve to be a good indicator of real injury rather than simply a wounded ego. I think back to my own childhood when I experienced this delayed response to pain and the intermediary thought says, "this will soon hurt much worse."

Awakening to the dawn of my wife's diagnosis of breast cancer, I suspect we are gathering our breath. Today, there is no pain and things seem normal. But there is the promise of pain--of suffering to come. I have little concept of how much this will hurt, I just understand that it will.

After that initial reaction, when the real pain started and the blood flowed, Ian's natural instinct was to seek parental comfort. I find myself there as well. The first person I called--the first person I cried with--after hearing Heather's diagnosis was my mother. She did not offer to fix it--she cannot--she just cried with me, which I guess is why I called her.

I have also been seeking my heavenly Father, but I don't know what to say to Him. Words fail me. I believe right now, that is probably where He wants me to be. I am His wounded child and it is He who offers words of comfort. Yesterday, the daily verse from the Faithwalkers devotional was Isaiah 41:13--For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not, I am the one who helps you."

Father help me to remember that you are the God of all comfort.

Suffering Together

Genesis 2:24--Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.

Several months ago, I read John Piper's excellent book, Desiring God. Though I was regularly affected by things that he wrote, I was particularly moved by his chapter on suffering. I said to my dear wife, "as Christians, we are called to suffer. We have a fantastic life, why is it that we don't suffer?" She replied, "wherever you lead, I will follow."

As I sat on the top of that mountain of contentment, I had no idea that God was preparing us for a trip into this valley. The Valley of Breast Cancer. In the past 5 days, which have been a whirlwind, Heather went from "I found a lump in my breast that I should have checked out" to "Heather will require a mastectomy."

I have also been painfully assured of something I have long suspected--the suffering of someone I love, in this case the flesh of my flesh--comes with substantial pain. As social beings, we humans suffer when confronted by the pain of others, particularly our loved ones. A part of me says I have no right to feel hurt, yet another part is reminded that I am one with this woman God has joined with me. Her pain is my pain.

I also know that as we peer into the valley, God has given us the past several years together to prepare for this journey with one another. Taking her left hand in mine and reaching to God with my right, we step out in faith.

I want to build a house up on this mountain
Way up high where the peaceful waters flow
To quench my thirsty soul
Up on the mountain

My faith is strengthened by all that I see
You make it easy for me to believe up on the mountain
Oh, up on the mountain

I would love to live up on this mountain
And keep the pain of living life so far away
But I know I can't stay
Up on the mountain

I said I'd go, Lord, wherever You lead
For where You are is where I most want to be
And I can tell we're headed for the valley
My faith is strengthened by all that I've seen
So Lord help me remember what You've shown me
Up on the mountain

You bring me up here on this mountain
For me to rest and learn and grow
I see the truth up on the mountain
And I carry it to the world far below

So as I go down to the valley
Knowing that You will go with me
This is my prayer, Lord
Help me to remember what You've shown me
Up on the mountain
Up on the mountain

I cherish these times up on the mountain
But I can leave this place because I know
Someday You'll take me home to live forever
Up on the mountain