Pray for Larry Crabb

This week, a blog post came through from New Way Ministries written by Rachael Crabb, Larry's wife. He has a busy schedule coming up including leading a week long School of Spiritual Direction (that I am scheduled to go to).

Rachael writes,

Dear Prayer Partners,

It has been a long time since you’ve received a Prayer Initiative from NewWay—here is a short, very important one. I wanted to update you about Larry’s latest bout with the gastrinoma/cancer that has settled in his liver again—3 tumors in the liver, two in one lobe and 1 in the other lobe so no invasive surgery! If he had to go under the knife it would be three separate surgeries, with time between each for the resections to be restored. We did not want that invasion but love how God made us, a liver can regrow!

All this has lead up to Tuesday, March 4th, when Larry will have one of the newest procedures done by an interventional radiologist. Dr Stangle will go thru the groin into the liver with a catheter of chemo and inject it into the liver. The doctor trained at Mt Sinai in NYC in this fairly new treatment and said side effects are minimal (out of several 100 Dr S has done he has had 2 patients lose their hair (picturing Larry bald for a time is not a pretty sight). We are hopeful that unseen lesions will be wiped out and kept at bay for a bit with this concentrated chemo (the doctor also told us that he will always have this cancer and it’s not if it will return BUT where it will return). I guess after 17 and 1/2 yrs of dealing with this off and on we are realizing that we are involved in a unseen story being told all around us and are grateful.

A longer prayer initiative will be coming–we have a very busy schedule coming up for NewWay in the next several months (the doctor also told us that Larry needs a week after this procedure to recoup, so we’re giving him 2 weeks before he hits the road running on March 19th) We also like including the many prayer needs and praises you send to us. Know we are grateful for friends who hold up our arms!

With gratefulness to a BIG GOD,
Rachael for Larry and the little team

Pray for healing, but above all that God would be glorified.  

Book Review: Tale of the Toboggans

Just over four years ago, my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer.  Prior to that, I had been reading John Piper's excellent book Desiring God and when I came to his chapter on suffering, I wondered why we didn't.  Though soon we did. Cancer is a life changing experience whether your own or in the life of a loved one.

That background brings me to this book, Tale of the Toboggans.  I don't even know how I came to it, except that it was a free offering on Kindle.  I just said the other day that it is unlikely that I will ever read all of the free Kindle books I have downloaded, but I am so glad that I opened this one. This book is an autobiographical account of Christian Schmidt's battle with a rare form of cancer, rhabdomyosarcoma. 

Quite plainly, this is one of the most moving, engaging books I have had the pleasure to read. Schmidt's descriptions of the treatment process and the ensuing physical, mental, and spiritual struggles is all too right.  I find myself torn. On the one hand, there are few books I have read that I think are more important for my wife to read and yet, I am not sure what she might encounter.  I have no doubt that this book will generate emotions she has not had for a long time.  Schmidt is brutally honest, which is a thing of rare beauty.  What was even more beautiful to me was the increasing thirst to bring glory to God through his battle. 

Here are the people to whom I would recommend this book.  Those with cancer. Those who know someone with cancer. Those who experience the pain of longing in some area of their life. Those who want to understand what cancer is like.  Those with a heart. Those without one. 

This book is nothing short of remarkable.  The Kindle price is 99 cents, which is much lower than its value.  Take advantage before the price goes up. 

Sproul on Celebrating Alone

RC Sproul Jr lost his wife to cancer earlier this year or perhaps last. I do not remember exactly. What I do know is that any time he writes about Denise, my tears well up. Perhaps it is because my wife had cancer that I get emotional. Perhaps it is because he is a homeschooling dad going it alone now. Perhaps it is because this man demonstrates a profound love for his wife and his Lord.  In any case, I commend his words today on the eve of his 20th anniversary.

Like the last time, I am republishing this in whole, though the original is here, if interested.

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It was hot and humid that day, August 1, 1992. I stood, and waited. Beside me stood several of my closest friends, and nearby was my father. All of us, however, had our eyes glued to the same spot, anticipating. The music changed, heralding the arrival we were all waiting for, me most of all. The doors swung open, and there she was, on her father’s arm. Slowly, stately, they made their way up the center aisle and soon he placed her hand in mine.

Jesus redeemed me. His life, death and resurrection assured me adoption by my heavenly Father. I will one day see Him as He is, and I will be like Him. Apart from this, however, despite a lifetime of showering me with blessing upon blessing, He had never blessed me as He did this day. House and wealth are an inheritance from fathers, but a prudent wife is from the Lord (Proverbs 19:14).

I knew then what I know well now, that this woman was so much more than I deserved. She was a living, breathing reminder of the gospel, that God gives well beyond my due. For nearly twenty years His grace graced our home in and through her. I woke up each morning astonished at what God had done for me. I went to bed each night beside His grace. I did not get the opportunity to plan a grand twentieth anniversary celebration. We will neither repeat our honeymoon cruise nor hold hands on the Champs Elysees. Instead I will travel to the cemetery.

I will, almost certainly, cry. I will certainly ache from missing her. I will remember those two days that have so shaped me- our wedding and her home going. But my prayer is that I will celebrate. I have much to give thanks for. I am thankful for the twenty years we had together. I am thankful for the eight children we had together, for how faithfully she mothered them, and how powerfully she shows in them. I am thankful for the family and friends she brought into my life. I am thankful for how she was used to help me grow in grace and wisdom, that I am a better man because of her. She spoke God’s wisdom into my life, while modeling it in her own.

All of this gratitude, however, pales in comparison to the one thing I am most grateful for. Because I love her I wanted to take her on a special trip for our anniversary. Because I love her I give thanks that she is somewhere infinitely more glorious than any place I could take her. My queen is not sailing to exotic ports but is casting down her golden crown around the glassy sea. She won’t stroll through Paris with me, but is walking hand in hand with Jesus on streets of gold. She is enjoying her greatest anniversary ever. Which is the best I could wish for for the woman I love.

My anniversary is, like every day, a day for giving thanks. He gave me more than I deserve in giving me her. He gave her more than she deserves in giving her Him. And one day He will bless me in the same way. Rejoice, and be exceedingly glad.

A cure for the dying

Many years ago, I had lunch with Kay Redfield Jamison, a psychologist who went public with her own struggles with bipolar disorder in a book, An Unquiet Mind. Barry Cooper at the Gospel Coalition discusses her latest memoir, Nothing Was the Same about her husband's fight with, and eventual defeat, by cancer. Jamison and her husband, both unbelievers, had placed their hope in science. Even upon hearing the words of the hymn "Immortal, Invisible", her husband liked the tune, but the words failed to land upon him.  They failed to see the importance of Jesus even at this crucial time in their lives. 

Cooper then writes about a conversation with a hospital chaplain when his mother had cancer. He wrote, "In September 2001, my mother died of stomach cancer. The medical staff at the hospice were phenomenal: skilled, sensitive, and familiar with grief. The spiritual staff were less effective, however. I remember asking the chaplain how he shared the hope of the resurrection with dying people. I also remember the look of surprise on his face. 'Oh, that's the last thing I would do at that point,' he answered, oblivious to the irony. Under any other circumstances, I probably would have laughed."

There is but one cure for death...

Terminal

Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow. -Psalm 144:4

A few days ago, my mom told me that my dear uncle has colon cancer. Yesterday, she called me to tell me that an MRI revealed cancer in his lungs, liver, and lymph nodes and that the clinical picture is grave. Stage 4 cancer. Terminal cancer.

I too am grieved by this news. Though I treasure time spent with him, I do not get to see him as often as I would like. His calm spirit and love for others draws people to him. For as long as I have known him, he has loved God and treasured his family. He desires unity with others and when unity does not occur, it affects him deeply. He lives out the gospel in service to his church, to his family, and to anyone who might need a hand without any expectation for recompense. I suppose for that reason, alongside my tears of grief flow tears of inexpressible joy that my uncle is saved. My uncle will one day soon, whether weeks from now or years from now, be face to face with Jesus.

Suffering and illness seem strangely present in our lives over the past couple of years. Not only was Heather diagnosed with breast cancer seven months ago, but many friends of ours have been faced with frequent, painful trials (see here for a taste). These trials we face have led to a lot of introspection, a recognition of what is truly important in life, and a sense of urgency to tell people about what is important.

Jesus.

Jesus is all that is important. The only hope we have in this life and the life to come is in Jesus (Acts 4:12). I truly believe that my uncle knows that Jesus is everything. Sadly, I don't believe that everyone reading this believes or lives like Jesus is all that matters. Including some of my family and friends whom I love dearly. And knowing that some of you may not be in heaven with me grieves me much more deeply than knowing that my uncle has terminal cancer.

We are all terminal. Every one of us. We will all one day die and when we do, we will either get to spend eternity with Jesus, or we will spend eternity in hell, separated from God. Please, please, please do not read what I have written here and say to yourself "oh, Jason's uncle sure is a good man" or "that Jason is such a thoughtful writer" and go on about your day (James 1:23-24). Let yourself be uncomfortable. Ponder the fact that my uncle's life, my life, your life is a breath.

Take some time to look into the mirror of your soul. Too many of you believe that because you are good people or go to church or grew up in a Christian home that you are going to heaven some day, if you even bother to think about heaven, or God, at all. Your goodness is not a ticket to heaven. God's standard for you is perfection. Romans 3:23 says, "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." That's right. You. Me. Sinners. We fall short of God's standard and we all deserve death. Romans 6:23 says, "the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." Our only hope is through accepting that free gift of grace that was offered to us while we were yet sinners (Romans 5:8). Romans 10:9-10 tells us how to receive this gift: "if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved." If you don't know how to pray or are not sure if you are saved, or if you have questions about Jesus, please contact me. Do not wait another minute. There is nothing more important.

I urge you to watch the video I posted below. It is of a young man named Zac Smith who died of cancer 2 days ago. His message should be a wake up call to all of us about what is important.

I love you and I'm praying for you uncle.

In retrospect

A dear friend emailed today, reminding me that I have been lackadaisical in providing updates about the status of our family. I feel as though we have been at sea in the midst of a storm. During the roughest patches, it seemed as though my sole responsibility was to make sure our small boat stayed afloat. As the storm clears, my first inclination has been to catch my breath and appreciate the break rather than let the people on solid ground know that our vessel is still aright. But here we go.

Heather is now 3-1/2 months post-diagnosis. Things moved rapidly from diagnosis to mastectomy to chemotherapy. In fact today, she completed her 6th of 8 treatments, so we are on the downhill side. From my perspective, her first treatment was the worst and they have progressively improved such that there are days she feels nearly normal. She is much less prone to fatigue and is almost never nauseous now. She lost her hair, which was trying, but she grows more confident day by day. Having cancer has given us an open platform to share our faith. We pray that this experience allows us to share God's word and that it may take root in those who do not know Him.

Tessa has now been home with us six weeks. As I previously wrote, I have been stunned at God's timing and providence. Tessa came home to us much sooner than she should have. Potential road blocks were cleared with ease, which can only be attributed to the power of prayer. Her adjustment to our family has been remarkable. She consistently sleeps through the night, eats well, and seems to genuinely love all of us. When I enter the house after work, her face exudes joy.

Interestingly, as many of you know, despite its relative rapidity, our adoption journey was somewhat circumlocutious. We initially set out to adopt a large sibling group, then considered state special needs adoption, followed by the pursuit of a healthy African-American infant from Alabama, and eventually settling on adopting a child with Down syndrome. We found a description of Tessa (healthy Ethiopian infant, probable mosaic Down syndrome) on a registry and without any additional knowledge felt compelled to pursue her. Early indicators certainly led us to believe she would have delays and likely DS, but within hours of meeting her, it was reasonably evident that she did not. We did have the birth-to-three program perform and evaluation and she seems to be developmentally on target with no hint of DS. She will likely walk soon, has already learned two signs (more and milk), and has a host of verbal sounds.

Grace and Ian have weathered this storm like champions. Grace is about midway through a program called CLIMB a cancer support program for kids. Ian has also been in tow, mostly because they serve good food like McDonalds.

So, on this cold January afternoon, I turn and retrospect over the past several months. My writing demonstrates that I have experienced have experienced a host of emotions. My emotions today are these:

Gratitude. I am deeply grateful for a God who loves me unconditionally and who allowed me to deepen my trust in Him through these few months. I am grateful for a wife who has handled the double shot of breast cancer and a new baby with amazing grace. On my prayer card for Heather, I wrote Proverbs 31:25 at the top, which says, "Strength and dignity are her clothing, she laughs at the time to come." Although there are days she does not feel particularly strong, or dignified, or confident enough to laugh, I see all of those characteristics in her. I am proud to call her my wife. I am grateful for three children who remain steadfast through this storm, unapologetically loving us and each other.

Peace. Though anxieties over every day life still creep in from time to time, I have felt more at peace. At the beginning, looking ahead to the trials, I felt a strong sense of apprehension. I knew I needed the Father, but I did not know what it might feel like to trust Him over time. Could He really help me overcome the difficulties? He patiently carried me along, reminding me that my trust in Him was well-founded and that no matter the outcome of trials, He will be at my side. Today, that leaves me feeling peaceful and confident in His sovereignty.

Joy. Life, in Christ, appears somehow richer to me now. Both loss through cancer and gain through adoption remind me daily that my joy is found in Christ. No matter how deep I may go or how high I may ascend, Christ is there and He is my joy. May that ever be true.

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. -I Thessalonians 5:16-18

Round-up: 1/18/10

Biblical illiteracy was described as a problem on Justin Taylor's blog.

To make a real difference in people’s lives, biblical literacy programs will have to do more than simply encourage believers to memorize a select set of Bible verses. They will have to teach people to speak the language of faith; and while this language is of course grounded in the grammar, vocabulary, and stories of the Bible, living languages are embedded in actual human communities that are constituted by particular habits, values, practices, stories, and exemplars. We don’t memorize languages; we use them and live through them. As Paulo Freire reminded us, literacy enables us to read both the word and the world. Language mediates our reality, expands our horizons, inspires our imagination, and empowers our actions. Literacy therefore isn’t simply about possessing a static ability to read and write; it is a dynamic reality, a never-ending life practice that involves putting those skills to work in reshaping our identity and transforming our world. Biblical literacy programs need to do more than produce informed quoters. They need to produce transformed readers.

We all need to get into God's word. I Peter 3:15 says, "but in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you."

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Adrian Warnock presents John Piper's sermon to the Village Church, where Matt Chandler preaches. Matt Chandler, as you may have heard, was recently diagnosed with brain cancer. Chandler has handled this truly graciously. I pray that we do.

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Justin Buzzard, on The Gospel Coalition Blog, writes of Oswald Chambers "4 years of hell on earth."

Friend, the hell you’re walking through right now just might lead to heaven. God has not abandoned you. He’s stripping you of false lovers so that you can know him. You were created to know, love, worship, adore, and enjoy God. Praise him that he loves you enough to not let you settle for anything less than him.

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Thabati Anyabwile also on suffering (seems to be a theme this week):

So, death must be conquered. We must be set free from our fear of it. But neither the conquering of death or courage in its face comes from self-help maneuvers. The grip of death is too strong, our hearts are too weak. To defeat it we must be delivered, rescued, liberated, saved. We need a strong man stronger than all men.

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An article from the New York times documents the folly of living for one's career and salary. What attorneys once thought was a golden ticket is disappearing, leading to greater incidence of depression. Luke 12:13-21 talks about building bigger barns. Their barns are burning.

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Tim Challies engaged in a 3 letter exchange with atheist, Luke Muehlhauser. It is reasonably cordial and well worth the time to read. I always wonder how atheists and Christians can look at the same information and come away with drastically different conclusions.

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Doughnut Upside Down Cake: Any recipe that includes the phrase, "I simply looked through a classic recipe [for pineapple upside-down cake] and replaced every instance of 'pineapple' with 'doughnut'" must be a good recipe.


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Adrian Warnock on getting back to the book of Acts.

Social gospel cares for poor. Prosperity gospel cares for me. Green gospel cares for the earth. Charismatic gospel cares about tongues. The real gospel has Jesus at the centre.

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A truly pro-life, pro-family church welcomes the disruption of children in the foyer, rejoices at the sight of new faces in children’s church and smiles at the thought of families from different countries and backgrounds joining us in praise to God. Read more here.

Waxing Contemplative

Wax--to grow or become as specified.

A conversation with some fellow men this morning has had me considering changes God takes us through. As an introvert, one stated that his nature leads him to desire solitude. As a salesman, he does not fit their typical gregarious personality, yet still thrives in the role. Before his conversion, he preferred quiet weekends at home, yet as he has grown in his faith, he has recognized the benefit of social engagement, indeed thriving during busy weekends spent with fellow believers.

I am opposite. Most of my life has been spent in the pursuit of others, of relationships. I have always believed that I grow most in community. Unfortunately, this extroverted tendency has led me to downplay the necessity of social reprieve and contemplation.

Cancer has forced isolation upon me. I have much less opportunity to interact with others, which carries with it a certain sadness. Most of the time, I notice my countenance darken the longer the isolation persists. This feeling is compounded as my mother-in-law helps us out because my wife, an introvert, has many of her social needs met during the day. The mother-in-law/cancer combination leaves little her with little leftover social energy.

An increased desire for contemplation was an unexpected gift. I use this God-given time to mull things over. I am able to process God's word and how it relates to my life. I am able to pray for God's will and his guidance. I pray that God uses these times as a way to deepen my faith and to draw my closer to Him and, somewhat ironically, to others.

Jesus spent much of his adult ministry literally surrounded by people, pressing in from every side. He poured His lives into them. He poured His life out for them. Yet, there is unmistakable evidence that he found time away, time to contemplate and pray. Christ recognized the importance of time alone with His father; I pray that I continue to learn this lesson.

And rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, he departed and went out to a desolate place, and there he prayed.-Mark 1:35

Faith in Storms

Heather has been reading a devotional entitled Proven Promises by Howard Vanderwell. She received it from my aunt Ann, who had breast cancer many years ago. This morning, she read a devotional entitled "Faith in Storms" (p.27). We were both moved by this reading, so I wanted to share it in its entirety here.

Faith, by its very nature, cries out to be exercised in those times in life when the storms are the most severe. As a matter of fact, faith seems to be more at home in sorrow than in the calm.

Jesus' message to his disciples in this Galilean storm is very simple yet profound. "Yes, I understand you fear. But I expect you to say, 'I see the waves, and I feel the wind, and I know the boat is tossing, and I even observe the water coming into the boat.' And then I call you to say 'but'...'but I see Jesus and I trust his care.'"

And His message to many of us is the same. He meets us in our valleys and says, "Yes, I understand you fear. But you must learn to say 'but'. You must say, 'I heard the doctors reports, and I feel the pain, and I know the threat of malignancy, and I sense the disappointment of it all...but...I see Jesus and I trust His care of me.'"

Faith does not hide from the storms. It does not try to rationalize them away. Faith stares right into the face of all storms and then say "but...I also see Jesus...and I trust Him to care for me."

The devotional may be ordered from:
Dr Howard D. Vanderwell
3770 Black Creek Drive
Hudsonville, MI 49426

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."

Stop Doubting and Believe

I am again amazed at how God leads me to passages in His word that address issues in my life. A couple of days ago, I wrote this post about my timidity (or is it fear?) in prayer, yet making an audacious request anyway. This morning, I was listening to an audio Bible sampler that I got from the bookstore, and the narrators read John 11--the passage that describes the death of Lazarus. It became quite evident that God was speaking directly to me again (or as Heather prefers to imply, God is smacking me with a large plank). You may appreciate why in a moment.

The passage begins with Mary and Martha sending word to Jesus that Lazarus, "the one Jesus loved," was ill (v. 3). In verse 4, Jesus responded, “This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” God allowed this illness in order that Christ would be glorified. Yet even after hearing of this illness, He waited two days longer, by which point Lazarus died so that His power might be demonstrated all the more.

To the outside observer, healing may be one thing, an earthly thing; but raising someone from the dead was divine. This point is clarified in verses 11-15. Jesus tells His disciples, "our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I go to awaken him" (v. 11). The disciples respond, "if he has fallen asleep, he will recover" (v. 13). The disciples are already minimizing, looking for an easy explanation, a logical explanation. Then in verses 14, Jesus is blunt with them--"Lazarus has died" because they weren't comprehending his meaning by "fallen asleep." I believe He says this to confront their logic, their trust in earthly things. People don't just become alive again because that is impossible. In verse 15 Jesus finishes His sentence, "for your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe." Christ knew that raising His friend from the dead would be an awesome demonstration of His power and that their belief would grow exponentially by seeing Him work.

In verse 17, we discover that Lazarus has been in the tomb 4 days, so he is really dead. In fact, Martha raised concern about an odor--the smell of death--because of the length of time since his passing (v. 39). In the meantime, however, we see Christ setting up His followers to see something miraculous. Martha says to Him, "if you had been here, my brother would not have died" (v. 21). This belief is similar to the disciples, however, Martha shows amazing faith by saying to Jesus, "but even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you" (v. 22). Can you imagine? Her brother has been dead for four days. He most assuredly stinks, yet Martha trusts in Christ's power! That's what we all need--to believe that Christ is much bigger than our circumstances--much bigger than death. Christ then goes on to confirm her faith in Him. He tells her, "your brother will rise again" (v. 23), not on the last day, but on that very day because, as Jesus tells her, He "is the resurrection and the life" (v. 25).

The story continues to build. Those early believers, and we today, are getting set up to see a miracle. Jesus prepares His disciples. He prepares the sisters. He is preparing us to see not just a healing but someone raised from the dead. He is preparing us for the impossible.

As He is setting the stage--with utter confidence in His Father's power--we get a glimpse of His humanity. He felt compassion on his friends. They were all crying over the death of a loved one and he was moved (v. 34) by their sorrow to the degree where He also wept (v. 35). He sympathizes with their feelings; He is not an aloof God, not a magical genie, but a man with real feelings for those He loved.

In verse 40, we get to see the climax approaching, the story coming full circle. Jesus tells them, "Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” Then He prays. He prays boldly to His heavenly father. "Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me." He demonstrates the confidence that I pray I one day have. He is speaking with His Abba Father, knowing that He is listening. As we know, He then calls Lazarus out from the tomb and many Jews who were there believed. He set the stage, performed a miracle and was glorified.

As I have contemplated Heather's diagnosis of cancer, I realize that God sometimes makes things seem dire so that He can bring glory to Himself by demonstrating His power. That is His supreme goal--to be glorified. Unfortunately, in a society with so many voices and viewpoints calling for our attention, it is too often not the mundane that draws us to God, it is the remarkable. Make no mistake, however, God is in the mundane as well, but too often we miss Him there. As C.S. Lewis wrote in The Problem of Pain, "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pain: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world".

Later in the day, He drove His point home to me. I came across John 20:27. Jesus is talking to Thomas and He said to him, "stop doubting and believe." (NIV).

Praying Boldly

John 14:13-14--"Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If you ask me anything in my name, I will do it."

I am scared to write this post. I fear what it says about me because, frankly, it reveals weakness. I struggle with prayer. Specifically, private prayer. I have difficulty with intimacy with my heavenly Father. If an outsider would look at my quiet times, he may see that I desire to know God, but he may wonder if I want God to know me.

Corporately, I have never minded praying. I feel connected with those whom I am praying with and with God, but individually my prayers somehow become apprehensive and awkward. Even when I am able to filter out the intrusive thoughts of a restless mind, many questions enter into my consciousness. "Does God really care about my individual prayers?" "Am I asking for things selfishly?" "Am I praying the right way?" But the question that scares me the most, the one that drives me to tears is this:

"What if I ask for something and God says 'no'?"

Over and over in the book of John (14, 15, 16), Jesus exhorts his disciples to "ask the Father in his name" and "it will be given." That is a bold promise from someone with the power to back it up.

Yet I falter. Those nagging thoughts such as "If the answer is 'no' I must not be faithful enough," "maybe I am not praying right," or "there must be some unconfessed sin keeping this prayer from being answered" assault my assurance.

Recently, I find myself in a place where I am placing an audacious request at the foot of the throne for Heather to be healed completely, but I am also asking God to boost my confidence in His ability to answer my prayers and to deepen my prayer life.

In essence, I am placing my hope in the words of Jesus from John 14--that I ask boldly in Jesus name, that He does it, that His will is done, and that God receives all the glory.

Ephesians 3:20-21 "Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." (NIV)

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