Things I Should Have Said More Clearly But Didn't

 In looking over the responses to last night's blog (The October Surprise) we are humbled and deeply grateful. Thank you for caring and praying. At the same time, I sense there are some things I probably should have made clearer than they were:

1. I am super sensitive about not sending unwanted email. We recognize that you may choose to stay in touch in other ways, and your comment that you are praying will not automatically add you to the email list.

2. Relying on Facebook for updates will not be effective. In an effort to manage communication as simply and securely as possible, we don't plan to post regular updates on Facebook. Those will come through the email list I mentioned. If you want to receive those, please ask.

3. Commenting directly on the blog rather than Facebook is good, but please identify who you are; otherwise we won't know.

Finally for those of you who half a lifetime ago (that's your life, not mine) were part of one of my writing or speech classes, let this post come as a gentle reminder of what I told you often, and what you have no doubt discovered to be true: The day will come when nobody cares what grade you got in my class, but they will always care how effectively you communicate!

😀😀😀😀😀

 

The October Detour

The October detour started with a full body itch and jaundice. Less than a month later, Valerie had a diagnosis of bile duct cancer. In between were more medical tests, appointments, and procedures than anyone should try cramming into a couple of weeks along with introductions to three new doctors, all of it happening at a mind-numbing pace. We find ourselves once again in the midst of a new unplanned and unexpected adventure, occasionally (and I suppose unnecessarily) wondering what the Lord who loves us has in mind.  

Valerie, who has a lifetime of experience following the Lord into the unknown, has a deep peace and confidence that God knows what He is doing in these current circumstances; So do I, but of the two of us, I’m the one more likely to have questions for the Almighty. It’s not that I don’t know the right answers; I do, and I’ve shared them with many others. In the last few weeks multiple friends have started dealing with fresh cancer diagnoses. When it comes to things like cancer, I recognize the tension that can exist between what is known and what is sometimes felt, and that tension has had me thinking lately about the theme of this blog.

What does it mean to talk about discovering joy in the midst of a cancer diagnosis? In the wake of Joan’s diagnosis over twenty years ago, a basic biblical truth impressed me more clearly and deeply than it ever had before. I think it is one of the simplest and most important things I have ever learned. All God ever gives us is one day at a time, and every one of those days has been recorded by God before even the first one came to be. He is a present tense God, and each new day comes as a gift with an invitation to walk with Him through it. 

I don’t know why the Lord surprises us with sudden detours, but asking why is almost always the wrong question. Advent will look a bit different this year, punctuated with fifteen radiation treatments and likely followed by oral chemotherapy. We are on a journey these days rich with opportunities to experience God more deeply and intimately than we otherwise would, and to do so one day at a time as long as He gives us days.

A P.S. for those who want to stay in touch: We’ll be sending occasional email prayer updates on how Valerie is doing. If you want to receive those, all we need is a current email address. The most efficient way to contact us is email or phone/text to either of us or commenting directly on the blog. My presence on Facebook is infrequent and irregular, and Valerie no longer uses that platform at all. 😀

A Better Mousetrap?

According to the old saying, the world will beat a path to your door if you build a better mousetrap. In my more idle moments I've wondered why a mousetrap? Is the world really that desperate to undo what Noah did when he let those two rodents on the ark? Why not something more obviously wanted by a world waiting for greatness? Enough people thought electric vehicles were a good idea that an unlikely South African named Elon made a fortune building ugly cars.

 

These thoughts resurfaced a few days ago when my wife asked why the car heater was making a funny noise. I turned the fan higher and the noise got louder, and when I turned it all the way up, it make enough noise to make we wonder if the car was about to breath its last. So I turned off the fan and mentally rearranged the rest of the day so we could find out what was going on.

We dropped the car off to be checked out. When we got it back two or three hours later, the diagnosis was clear, complete with a picture: 

    Confirmed customer concern.

    Removed blower motor and found a deceased rodent

    Removed and disinfected entire heating box.

    Operating normally at this time.

I am no longer waiting for the world to beat a path to my door. Apparently I had a better mousetrap all along. Admittedly it was, like Elon's cars, significantly more expensive than the alternatives, but it was highly effective.

I'm sure there must be a lesson here somewhere, but I'm not sure just what it is. I have, wisely I think, purchased cheaper traps. There doesn't seem to be much sense in questioning why God created rodents and Noah welcomed them onto the ark (which fortunately, as far as we know, didn't have a blower motor). However, I can still find joy even in this set of circumstances. Just picturing that little critter spinning around in that fan makes the rest of life's problems seem a bit lighter, and, perhaps perversely, brings a smile to my face. 😀

 

 

 

 

 

Thank You, Lopez

 

    Twenty months ago, Valerie and I headed up to Lopez Island to say "No." The Community Church on the island was in the midst of a difficult transition, had experienced a failed pastoral call vote, and was looking for an interim pastor. Someone thought I might be a good fit. Just to be clear, that someone wasn't me. My plan was to preach that weekend, politely explain to the elders why I was not the end of their search for an interim, and go home. God adjusted our plans (that's another story; he does always know what's best), and we became frequent commuters between Kent and Lopez Island.

    The last twenty months have been an unexpectedly wonderful adventure as we have walked this interim journey with folks whom we have come to love. Some of the walk and the work has been hard; I guess that's normal. Ninety-six ferry rides later, (some of them were actually on time) that adventure came to a happy conclusion this last weekend as the church enthusiastically welcomed their new pastoral couple and allowed me the privilege of participating in his installation (which, by the way, is a terrible term; a pastor is neither a refrigerator nor software). 

 
    When we boarded that 96th ferry on Monday morning, it was with great memories and deep joy. The memories are not focused on cancelled ferries or crowded freeways or the common occasional frustrations of ministry. They center on a bunch of new friends and on the incomparable privilege of witnessing the work of the Lord among them. I shudder at the thought of what I would have missed if I had simply said "No."

    It's been a great adventure and one of the most joyful chapters of our lives. Thank you, Lopez!

The Continuing Saga

 

Could we just agree that pictures of me in medical facilities might not be such a great idea?  😀

Ten months ago I posted a picture of me at the VMC ER waiting for a hospital room, a visit prompted by a GI bleed.  This picture is after this week's repeat trans-jugular liver biopsy at UWMC.  The intervening months have been a multifaceted adventure with multiple medical procedures and a second GI bleed hospitalization.  Along the way I've been richly blessed by the prayers of faithful friends and family.

I've always believed that people who agree to pray also deserve to be kept up to date, and I have to confess that I have not done as well in that department as I'd like to.  Valerie has done much better than I have in that regard, but with an ever-changing medical schedule and a continuing search for elusive answers, I've left some good friends praying in the dark.  I'm hoping this post will provide enough background and current info to help correct that.  If you want more (or less!) info, feel free to holler.

First, a bit of history: For a few years before the first bleed, I had been tracking a slowly sinking platelet count.  For me that triggered memories of Joan's blood cancer adventures.  Particularly in her last months, her lack of platelets was a major issue.  Low platelets can be a production issue (bone marrow, as in Joan's case?), destruction issue (malfunctioning immune system?) or a storage issue (where are they hiding, and why?)  An enlarged spleen pointed toward the storage answer.

The doctors then looked for a reason for the enlarged spleen.  Assorted tests and the first bleed led to a tentative diagnosis of portal hypertension (increased blood pressure in the digestive system), a condition that does fit the enlarged spleen, low platelets, and GI bleeds, but is usually the result of alcoholism and liver damage.  But my liver seemed to be functioning normally, and I don't even like the taste of alcohol, so the focus of the search shifted again to seek a reason for the portal hypertension, a question that has not yet been fully answered.  My GI doctor had only seen one other case of non-cirrhotic portal hypertension, and that one was caused by a parasite (one more negative test for me!)  Meanwhile he has referred me to a liver specialist at the University of Washington to help with the search for answers.  

Three months ago I experienced a second bleed and hospitalization (along with an incidental positive covid test) and was blessed with four units of other people's blood.  Since then the medical schedule has been much busier than I would like.  Most recently that has included an endoscopy last week in which the doctor removed a benign duodenal polyp and banded five veins that may or may not have been the source of the bleeds, and this weeks repeat liver biopsy, this time at UW.  On the schedule going forward are a zoom visit next week with the UW liver specialist and another liver MRI the following week at Valley Medical Center.

The good news is that for a guy whose calendar has been dominated by medical stuff, I feel pretty good in spite of energy returning more slowly than I would like in the wake of the last bleed.  Usually I like to wait to pass along information until I have something definite to share, but the nature of this odyssey is such that I don't know when or if that time will come.  Meanwhile, know that your prayers and concern are deeply valued.  Once again a significant part of our joy comes from God's gift of praying people like you.  Thank you!  

Thank You

 

In my perfect world, Valerie would have asked me to smile before taking this picture.  But then in my perfect world, we wouldn't have been there in the first place.

It was not my plan to land in hospital with an upper GI bleed a few days before Easter.  But I have learned over the years that my plans, however much I may like them, are always subject to divine editing.  So there we were in the emergency department at Valley Medical Center doing what ER patients do everywhere: waiting.

My unfortunately unrealistic expectation when we arrived was that I would be waiting for stat blood work and a decision on an expedited endoscopy.  The optimist in me had not planned on waiting for a hospital bed.  So I had arrived with the clothes on my back and a cell phone in my pocket, and with those (though the clothes didn't stay on my back) I was eventually admitted.

One of the realities of the covid era is that visitors are not allowed beyond the ER, so it would be a couple of days before I would see my wife's smiling face once again, and while I missed her, I did not miss her iPhone camera.  Some pictures, after all, are better left untaken.

I have never spent Good Friday in hospital before, at least not as a patient. It is an interesting environment in which to contemplate the suffering of the Savior and the unsearchable dimensions of his love. Reading is my default relaxation, but the only thing I had to read was an iPhone screen, and prayer quickly became a better choice.

Fast forward a few days. (I'm pretty sure you really don't want the inpatient details.) I was home for Easter, the bleed has abated, and the strength is slowly returning.  As far as anyone can tell, I am on the mend. There remains a fair amount that we don't yet know, and additional tests and procedures lie ahead, but in these God-given present moments in which we all live, I am deeply thankful.

Which brings me to the point of this post: To you who knew and who prayed, thank you. And to you who didn't know but would have prayed if you had known, thank you as well. I'll take that kind of prayerful friendship anytime!

And to my best friend, chief photographer, information facilitator, and sweet gift from God, take heart; the best is yet to be....

A Voice from the Past - Part 2

 I've been thinking lately about churches; not "the church," but individual local churches. Last month's five Sundays had us focused on five different local churches. For some I was the preacher du jour. The venues were varied - sanctuary, parking lot, prayer garden, online - and the congregations represented a broad spectrum of church health from gloriously healthy to ingloriously struggling, a range, by the way, that has little to do with church size. Reflecting on that spectrum, I was reminded of two things.

 

One was my first visit to Tintern Abbey in Wales. My grandmother painted a picture of the abbey ruins as a wedding gift for my grandfather over 100 years ago, her perspective a bit different from the  picture here. Her painting hung in our living room when I was growing up and fueled a desire to see the site for myself some day. Social distancing among the ruins would not be a problem as long as you didn't mind sharing space with the occasional cow. I wondered what had started the slide centuries ago from a vital center for the gospel to what can best be described by the oxymoronic phrase magnificent ruins.

 

The other was that recently rediscovered recording of my ordination service that was the focus of the last blog post. Chuck Wickman's message focused on seven core concepts of ministry. It was an interesting exercise to view last month's five churches through the lens provided by those concepts. For your edification and encouragement, and as you consider the congregation you call your church home, here is a summary of his list:

 

1. Ministry is limited only by the vision of people and their willingness to walk with God. It seems to me that a lot of excuses get drowned out by that statement. How do we who minister encourage and model that vision and willingness to walk with God?

 

2. Ministry will rise only to the level of its object, and that object is Jesus Christ. Success in ministry will not be determined by the strength of our commitment; it is the object of our commitment that counts. 

 

3. Ministry will maintain its cutting edge by its definiteness. There needs to be a prophetic voice, a thus saith the Lord to our ministry. We must speak truth no matter how frightening truth may be.

 

4. Ministry is as meaningful as it is flexible. The shape of ministry gets defined by the people around us. In a world that constantly changes, ministry that cannot flex will cease to be seen as meaningful.

 

5. Ministry moves people from where they are only as it accepts them for who they are. It may be messy, but we meet people where they are, remembering that God has dealt with us in grace, and that we are likewise called to minister in grace.

 

6. Ministry is intended to develop Christian character, not to produce Christian conformity. Conformity will always be counterfeit unless it is conformity to Jesus Christ.

 

7. To be at its best, ministry must always have a good news orientation. While the good news of the gospel may begin with the bad news of sin, it doesn't end there. We are a people who offer hope, who offer peace, who offer joy, who offer life, who offer heaven, to a world that desperately needs to hear some good news.

 

It was a challenging list when I first heard it early in my pastoral ministry. It is no less relevant or challenging now. And especially for those who have been made a minister, it is a helpful guide if we are to achieve glorious health and avoid becoming magnificent ruins.