Suffering and Hope

Life continues to be a strange dichotomy of pain and joy, suffering and hope.  The current public examples are found with the movie theater shooting in Aurora and the London Olympics.  I love the hope and individual achievement of the Olympics and while ABC Sports made “the agony of defeat” a famous slogan, we all know that none of the extraordinary athletes competing at the Olympics are really losers.  I’m inspired by watching most every event.  The Aurora shooting on the other hand has been almost more than I can bear.  There have been times where I’ve been somehow interested in the news of public tragedy.  I’m not sure of the internal drivers for such whether voyeuristic curiosity or heartfelt desire to understand and somehow help.  This time, I just wanted to stay away knowing in that I just wasn’t in a place to move into that kind of hurt if I didn’t have to.  Sounds selfish as I type it, but I’m not surprised as God uses more and more of life to reveal selfishness I didn’t know I had.
  

My hope and desire for healing was also recently turned on its head, revealing something not so wonderful.  A couple weeks ago a believer challenged me with these words; “For many years I've been confused at the seeming paradox of Christians with health issues wanting to get healed so more time can be spent in this life.”  And “why are "we" so intent on finding a way to spend more time in this flawed sinful world?!?!”  Good question and I think the answer is that many of us are trying to create our own little “heaven on earth” rather than seeking and desiring God’s kingdom.  I must admit that I want to be healthy; I want to be comfortable, I want to “store up” resources to try to insulate myself and those I love from need and from pain.  Oh Father, forgive me…  as I know the very core of these desires is the homing beacon you’ve put inside of me, a desire for you and your kingdom, but I’m so quick to work toward fleeting counterfeits. 

Three weeks ago I was pouting about having to live the next year waiting and continuing to be dependent on God to keep my tumor in check.  How foolish and selfish of me.  Since then God has reminded me that I am daily dependent and that it’s not about my comfort here on earth. This time God used our pastor to remind me.  Reading from Luke 9:23-25, Jesus said “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross daily, and follow me.  If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it. And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but are yourself lost or destroyed?”  Deny myself and pick up my cross.  We all have our own cross to bear and crosses are about suffering.  Why did Jesus deny himself and carry his cross?  At least some of the reasons include the knowledge that God is in control, God is good and that hope would be assured for all of us.     

Since then I’ve been reminded about many of the realities and references of day to day living.  Moment by moment we’re dependent on the beating of our lungs and heart, each day we need food, water, sleep, to clean and be cleaned.  I’m not sure what is worse, that we take these for granted or willfully choose to forget our dependence.  Of course these are obvious physical needs, but I believe they are also reflections of the spiritual; our daily need for spiritual food, rest and cleansing.  Thankfully, the Bible is so full of reminders and encouragements to trust in God daily including Exodus 16 (Manna) and Matthew 6 (Lord’s Prayer, rust and birds of the air). 

With all that’s going on, I’m more and more convinced that both the Kingdom of God is near and that we need to be more like Jesus; deny ourselves, bear our individual suffering and share the hope of God with others.  It’s a tall order for life, but thankfully we’re only called to do so today.   Just today… with God’s help we can endure some suffering and offer hope today (and thankfully we don't even need to worry about tomorrow (Matt 6:34)).        

Expected Surprise

Tuesday July 3^rd was a busy day with birthdays, errands and lots of work around the house.  It was Tirza’s 6^th and my Father’s 78^th birthday.  My parents had come into town for some joint celebration and to also help us as we shifted around the kid’s bedroom furniture, sorted and redecorated.  With this summer’s round of birthdays, (Darbi 10 and Riker 14), it seemed appropriate that all the kids room décor saw changes that were more in line with their own growth since we firm moved in 4 years ago.  Riker got a queen sized bed from Ikea and out went the bunk beds and little boy sports theme.  Darbi was thrilled to take the bunk with its built in side desk and associated storage.  Some teal and lime green bedding make it just right for a creative young lady that is a year away from middle school.  And Tirza, the birthday girl, was bequeathed Darbi’s frilly canopy bed.  With kids, changes and growth are so obvious, but all this makes me wonder how I’ve matured and changed over recent years and what observable manifestations should go along with it (1 Corinthians 13:11).  But, I digress… 

My expected surprise came as a phone call while we were driving from Tirza’s annual birthday photo at the JCPenney’s.  I didn’t recognize the number, but answered my cell phone to hear the voice of my doctor.  Of course, I’ve been expecting his call for a couple weeks.  He confirmed my own comparative analysis that the tumor had not changed.  He agreed with my thought that there is no compelling reason to take any medical action at this time and that the best approach is to just monitor the tumor, to watch and wait.  I asked the doctor if I should go ahead and schedule another appointment and MRI in 6 months and was pleasantly surprised when he said “make it a year”.  We exchanged pleasantries and I hung up.  Good hearing, no tumor growth, no need to do anything for a year.  Given my glimpse, this news was both expected and a grand surprise.     

After 6 months of wondering and bracing for the short term potential of radiation and hearing loss, I’ve found myself embarrassed on a couple levels.  The first is that I’ve made this so public and in the end there isn’t much here.  I feel a little like The Boy Who Cried Wolf or perhaps Roseanne Roseannadanna and her famous “Never mind…”  What was a big deal to me hasn’t become much and I’ve wasted people’s time and energy.  I suspect that kind of energy that “it’s not important enough” keeps many people from sharing their stories.  I know that train of thought is very human, but nonetheless real. 

Beyond the humanistic notion “that circumstances just worked out,” my next thought is that God has worked all these things together for good.  My embarrassment in this is that it wasn’t my first thought and probably hasn't been my primary expectation.  As I’ve stated many times, I believe “God can”, but I’ve carefully guarded my heart for the expectation that “He might not” and maybe even at times that “He probably won’t”.  It’s been a big lesson in expectations; human vs. supernatural.  Where was/is my faith?  This outcome of monitoring the tumor longer term isn’t necessarily my dream in terms of a specific “name it and claim it” outcome, but it is certainly a welcome surprise relative to my human “worst case” expectation.  Clearly, with God, we should expect wonderful surprises.   

Do I stop blogging now?  I suppose in terms of my acoustic neuroma, the answer is “tune in this time next year”, but otherwise I do plan to blog about whatever new opportunities to be faithfully expectant of surprises through the love of Christ & fullness of life.