Dare I write this on a day that the church in Nakuru is facing a tragic death? The husbands of one of the most active church members was killed in a hit and run accident, run over by a semi as he drove his motorcycle home.
My heart goes out, but I do dare write this.
There have been those who are somewhat offended, though in a friendly way, by my request not to pray for me to be healed, at least not rapidly. In the case of those who feel compelled to pray for my healing because their charismatic or pentecostal doctrine requires them to believe that God always heals, I think what they do not realize is that leukemia can't kill me.
Until yesterday, I completely forgot to consider the possibility that I could die because of leukemia. So yesterday I considered it for a moment, then dismissed it.
Leukemia doesn't kill saints. Guns don't kill saints. Hit and run drivers don't kill saints.
God calls saints home, in his time and by his will.
(A couple of really good passages on the subject are Isaiah 57:1-2 and Psalm 116:15.)
Leukemia's a tool. I'm surprised at just how powerful a tool it is. I had no idea of the power of the very word!
Leukemia ... it rings of tragedy; it silences most conversations.
Oh, there's worse diseases; a lot worse. But the simple fact is that when you mention you have leukemia, at least in Tennessee in the USA, everyone turns the conversation over to you.
And I turn the conversation over to joy and to faith in God.
It makes an impact on people in a very believable, powerful way.
Why would I want you to take that tool away? Why would God want to take that tool away?
If you think that leukemia can kill me, then I commend you for your love and kindness in praying that the leukemia would go away. But I encourage you to believe, with the Scriptures and with God Almighty, that it cannot.
If you would like to pray that I don't die. Feel free. It is better to depart and be with Christ, but I am aware that it's better for a lot of people, especially my family, if I stay, as long as for me, living is really Christ.
But don't pray the leukemia goes away! Leukemia doesn't have the power to be the cause of a saint's death!
(On the phrase, "living is really Christ," see Colossians, which I just read again last night. What an awesome description of what it means that "to live is Christ.")
Finally, a bit of news. I'm in Nashville at a hotel. I'm going to Vanderbilt in less than 2 hours to do some processing, then see the doctor at 10 am. I feel like I know less than I ever knew! The last I heard, the diagnosis of acute leukemia is valid except that it could perhaps be an aggressive form of lymphoma. I was also told that they want to take a look at my "dendritic cells," not to be confused, for those of you that are well informed, with the dendrites of the nervous system. They have to know what cells are the source of the malignancy, so that they can give me chemo that will destroy the correct cells.
I think.
Maybe there will be more news in a few hours.
Thanks to all of you who are actually reading all this! I was a little surprised to hear how many friends and relatives are. I am still overwhelmed daily by everyone's love.
Let me finish by suggesting the following 3-minute video concerning speaking with conviction about what you believe. I really like it. The rest of Taylor Mali's videos are really prone to being risque, so I can't tell you to see his others, but this one is really awesome.
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
June 30, 2011: Eternal Life and the Grace of God
I wrote this last night for my Rest of the Old, Old Story blog. I'm ahead on that blog, though, so I scheduled it to come out in a few days rather than right away.
Nonetheless, here's the same post, but on this blog! It's called "Humbled To Be Found Worthy."
Tonight, June 29, I'm sitting in an RV, and except for the miracle of modern medicine, I'd be dying very rapidly. I may still die, I suppose, though I believe God has told me that's not the end of this leukemia path for me.
Still, I think about death and eternal life. Even though I know it's happened to thousands and millions of people, it still amazes me how our lives can go on and on for decades, seemingly so stable and normal, and then death quite suddenly shoves its way in.
So now I have this dread disease. Cancer.gov refers to it as "highly responsive, but usually fatal." The time frame is usually under two years. At that point, you're cured or dead.
I don't want to die.
I don't mean die on this earth. Everyone's going to physically die. No sense worrying about that.
I mean I don't want death to be the end. I want to live forever. The thought of disappearing into blackness is scary to me, and that thought, on occasions in my life, even as a Christian, has really shaken me.
And now, here I am, with a lot of reasons to think about death, and God is so close.
Today, it's no problem to picture disappearing into the light of God because I'm already there. Today, it's no problem believing Jesus' promise of eternal life.
In fact, today, it's no problem believing that the issue of life after death won't be an issue for me for at least 20 years or so, even though doctors are going to wipe out my bone marrow and immune system next week.
Why should I be so unworried? Why should this time be the time for me to have the most peace I've ever had?
For the same reason those Vietnam POW's gave thanks to God when they were released.
Because God is real, and his Gospel is real.
And so I sit thankful. I have been given this incredible peace, and such a wonderful opportunity to talk about it.
All because God thinks I can handle having leukemia dumped on me.
I feel honored, and I feel humbled.
I remember making rank once in the military after I refused to study for my test, choosing instead to devote myself to the study of God's Word. The test scores required to make rank that cycle were lower than any before or after for several years.
I cried on my bed when I was told.
The rank didn't matter that much to me, but that God would give me such a gift was overwhelming.
You can pray for me. You can think I'm strong. You can think I'm a good Christian, but I'm really not a very good Christian. I can give you lists of people who have lived lives of constant self-denial, while I've spent too much time in restaurants, occasionally failed to "get around" to giving, and simply indulged at times when I should have denied myself.
Can I really claim to have "buffeted" my body as Paul describes in 1 Corinthians 9:27?
I doubt it, unless you apply the modern term "buffet," as in a really indulgent restaurant, to the verse, which really isn't a very funny joke.
People like Mother Theresa cause my conscience to be stricken. Amy Carmichael once wrote a book called If. I couldn't read it. I'm in the church now, which has done some very positive work on my weak will, so now I can at least read it. Though it convicts me, I can see where God has moved me forward in things that book talks about.
I've traveled, and I've met foreign missionaries who have hung out all night in jungles being eaten by mosquitoes, then swam a dangerous river towing bible wrapped in plastic, all to bring the Gospel to those who don't have it. Me? I'm a self-indulgent, wealthy American. Such men make me wonder whether I qualify as a Christian.
May God have mercy on me.
Only I don't have to say "may." God has already had mercy on me. He's let me feel the process of dying, and he's held my hand and told me he's with me.
If leukemia kills me, the only thing that will matter is the terrible hurt that will cause my family. May God allow me to teach my children to trust God the way that he is teaching me to trust him. There is nothing like walking in the Spirit.
For me, though, all I can think is the wonderful kindness of being shown eternal life by God because leukemia is destroying my blood.
Why is this happening to me? Why is God allowing me, of all people, to bear this, to experience such wonderful assurances? Why is he choosing me, of all people, to get to carry this disease and talk about the power of Jesus Christ, who never leaves us nor forsakes us?
I do know why. I'm not a very good Christian, but I am a Christian. I am a man of faith, and I have chose to learn from Jesus.
It's far better to be a lousy disciple than a non-disciple.
Don't fool yourself, though. To get the blessings, you do have to make a choice to enroll in his school, to choose his ways, and to give up what you want.
Yeah, I know. It's a terrible price. Your dreams of being a pilot, your college, your exercise, your business, and even your parents, siblings, wife, and children, all don't mean much to him except as they are put in his service.
Of course, he made them all. I suppose that gives him a right to them.
Personally, it's a price that today I regret less than ever.
Nonetheless, here's the same post, but on this blog! It's called "Humbled To Be Found Worthy."
Tonight, June 29, I'm sitting in an RV, and except for the miracle of modern medicine, I'd be dying very rapidly. I may still die, I suppose, though I believe God has told me that's not the end of this leukemia path for me.
Still, I think about death and eternal life. Even though I know it's happened to thousands and millions of people, it still amazes me how our lives can go on and on for decades, seemingly so stable and normal, and then death quite suddenly shoves its way in.
So now I have this dread disease. Cancer.gov refers to it as "highly responsive, but usually fatal." The time frame is usually under two years. At that point, you're cured or dead.
I don't want to die.
I don't mean die on this earth. Everyone's going to physically die. No sense worrying about that.
I mean I don't want death to be the end. I want to live forever. The thought of disappearing into blackness is scary to me, and that thought, on occasions in my life, even as a Christian, has really shaken me.
And now, here I am, with a lot of reasons to think about death, and God is so close.
Today, it's no problem to picture disappearing into the light of God because I'm already there. Today, it's no problem believing Jesus' promise of eternal life.
In fact, today, it's no problem believing that the issue of life after death won't be an issue for me for at least 20 years or so, even though doctors are going to wipe out my bone marrow and immune system next week.
Why should I be so unworried? Why should this time be the time for me to have the most peace I've ever had?
For the same reason those Vietnam POW's gave thanks to God when they were released.
Because God is real, and his Gospel is real.
And so I sit thankful. I have been given this incredible peace, and such a wonderful opportunity to talk about it.
All because God thinks I can handle having leukemia dumped on me.
I feel honored, and I feel humbled.
I remember making rank once in the military after I refused to study for my test, choosing instead to devote myself to the study of God's Word. The test scores required to make rank that cycle were lower than any before or after for several years.
I cried on my bed when I was told.
The rank didn't matter that much to me, but that God would give me such a gift was overwhelming.
You can pray for me. You can think I'm strong. You can think I'm a good Christian, but I'm really not a very good Christian. I can give you lists of people who have lived lives of constant self-denial, while I've spent too much time in restaurants, occasionally failed to "get around" to giving, and simply indulged at times when I should have denied myself.
Can I really claim to have "buffeted" my body as Paul describes in 1 Corinthians 9:27?
I doubt it, unless you apply the modern term "buffet," as in a really indulgent restaurant, to the verse, which really isn't a very funny joke.
People like Mother Theresa cause my conscience to be stricken. Amy Carmichael once wrote a book called If. I couldn't read it. I'm in the church now, which has done some very positive work on my weak will, so now I can at least read it. Though it convicts me, I can see where God has moved me forward in things that book talks about.
I've traveled, and I've met foreign missionaries who have hung out all night in jungles being eaten by mosquitoes, then swam a dangerous river towing bible wrapped in plastic, all to bring the Gospel to those who don't have it. Me? I'm a self-indulgent, wealthy American. Such men make me wonder whether I qualify as a Christian.
May God have mercy on me.
Only I don't have to say "may." God has already had mercy on me. He's let me feel the process of dying, and he's held my hand and told me he's with me.
If leukemia kills me, the only thing that will matter is the terrible hurt that will cause my family. May God allow me to teach my children to trust God the way that he is teaching me to trust him. There is nothing like walking in the Spirit.
For me, though, all I can think is the wonderful kindness of being shown eternal life by God because leukemia is destroying my blood.
Why is this happening to me? Why is God allowing me, of all people, to bear this, to experience such wonderful assurances? Why is he choosing me, of all people, to get to carry this disease and talk about the power of Jesus Christ, who never leaves us nor forsakes us?
I do know why. I'm not a very good Christian, but I am a Christian. I am a man of faith, and I have chose to learn from Jesus.
It's far better to be a lousy disciple than a non-disciple.
Don't fool yourself, though. To get the blessings, you do have to make a choice to enroll in his school, to choose his ways, and to give up what you want.
Yeah, I know. It's a terrible price. Your dreams of being a pilot, your college, your exercise, your business, and even your parents, siblings, wife, and children, all don't mean much to him except as they are put in his service.
Of course, he made them all. I suppose that gives him a right to them.
Personally, it's a price that today I regret less than ever.
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