As I consider how weighty (or unweighty) my troubles are, I like to recall these words of Yale church historian Jaroslav Pelikan. He uttered them shortly before dying in 2006:
"If Christ is risen, nothing else matters. And if Christ is not risen -- nothing else matters."
Easter blessings to you.
Most folks, upon being diagnosed with stage IV cancer, start thinking about how unfair it is - thoughts about how much life they are missing out on. OK, so what happens when an enginerd gets stage IV cancer? He does not approach things normally. Instead, he breaks out Excel, googles to find insurance actuary data for the US, and comes up with something like this...
Click image to enlarge. With Internet Explorer 7, it may be more readable by then hitting ctrl-shift-+ or ctrl-shift--.
Another enginerd fact ->
79% of visitors to Greg's Place use Internet Explorer, 14% use Firefox, and 3% are those cool folks who use Apple Safari.
The CT technician had a knack for photography and wanted to take some shots. I know a lot of the CT staff by now - this was scan #23.
The smile hides the fact that there's a tube up my rear.
At 6:45 am, I walk into the doors of MD Anderson Cancer Center. I and thousands of other patients. It is important that we arrive on time, so that we can wait. We must be calm and ready when the staff calls. We sit in our respective stations to be tested, scanned, infused, radiated, probed, cut, examed, questioned, and/or told if we might live. Currently, I am in a small quiet corner of Waiting Room B of Diagnostic Imaging Center C in Building R. I am sitting next to a fish tank. Many fish work at MD Anderson. They are part of the social services/psychiatry department. They keep us calm.
Fish workers with patient 169996
I am sitting next to my friend Mark. He is enjoying banana bread. I am fasting for the scan. No bread for me or the fish.
Of all of the theorems, formulas, transforms, and properties I have attempted to understand in math and science classes, one continues to fill me with awe: Euler's Identity. Every couple of months in my work, I sit back and sigh in wonderment at the ring of truth associated with some aspect of it. A colleague and I will be at the white board and some facet of it will emerge, and one of us will say, "Isn't it amazing?" For me, it delights more than E=mc2, Pyhtagoras' theorem, or many of the other gems that have emerged in the history of the discovery of truth.
In its simplest expression, the identity states that e to the power of pi times i equals -1. It magically combines the three most mysterious constants conceived, or rather discovered, by mankind:
- e: the constant, the derivative of which, when raised to x, is 1. e is not representable by decimal numbers, but is close to 2.72.
- pi: the constant equivalent to the ratio of the circumfrance to the diameter of a circle. pi is also not representable by decimal numbers, but is close to 3.14.
- i: the imaginary square root of -1. i is not only not representable in decimal numbers, it is so beyond imagination it seems plain silly.
The identity is, at the same time, beautifully elegant and laughingly non-sensical. It seems surely to have been fabricated in the wishful thinking of a naive, wanna-be mathematician.
This odd identity regularly bears fruit in engineering. In my particular branch of engineering, it allows us to get a grip on images, audio, and video in the frequency domain. While we experience life in the space-time domain, the frequency domain allows us to "see" things from a perspective that enables things impossible when looking through space-time. It allows us, for example, to compress images into small fragments that can fit on camera cards. It allows cellphones to talk to one another through the air. It allows us to cram hundreds of albums into iPods. It allows us to simultaneously put hundred's of TV channels on a single thin wire. It allows an MRI to see tumors without cutting. It is what made the Speak-n-Spell speak. And it allows us to make DLP video the best picture in the world (ok, so I'm biased).
When I speak of how it inspires awe (and even joy?), many of my nerd friends know what I'm talking about. If you have experienced this, or are curious enough to want to, then I think you will appreciate Amanda Shaw's latest essay in First Things blog.
Dr. Wayne Hofstetter double thoracotomy.
MD Anderson, Houston, Texas
Medium: Greg Hewlett
~$50k
(painful)
Bill Collings Archtop Guitar
Austin, Texas
Medium: Maple
~$8k
(not painful)
You can Simpson me, too (here's another way to create your character). If you do, email the image to me and I'll post those I get by Aug 15 in a Greg's Place gang shot. Send the full body shot of your character, not just the head-and-shoulder view.
(Is there a photoshop-adept volunteer who can put together the group picture with all the resulting images?)
Jonathan Edwards is a fascinating character in American history. He was a pastor, theologian, and writer on topics as varied as philosophy, politics and even optics. He spent his life in positions as wide as living humbly among Indians in western Massachusetts to serving as President of Princeton University. He died testing a smallpox vaccination developed by a scientist friend.
I enjoyed reading Edwards during the years I lived in Boston, as I was being awakened in my Christian faith at the time, as well as enjoying connecting with the history of the area. I have always been intrigued by his resolutions, which he reviewed every week while he was alive. I uncovered them recently and was struck by the fresh challenge they set to me in my situation where I continue to skirt death and wonder if my end on earth is near. I imagine that in colonial times people were more aware of death, as it showed its face more acutely in a world where medicine was crude and life spans were short. This may not have been all bad, as the Bible seems to connect living wisely to being aware of one's own death (e.g. Ps 39:4; 90:12).
I have included below some of his resolutions which have poignant meaning to me today.
Resolutions of Jonathan Edwards (1722-1723)
Being sensible that I am unable to do anything without God's help, I do humbly entreat him by his grace to enable me to keep these Resolutions, so far as they are agreeable to his will, for Christ's sake.
Remember to read over these Resolutions once a week.
1. Resolved, that I will do whatsoever I think to be most to God's glory, and my own good, profit and pleasure, in the whole of my duration, without any consideration of the time, whether now, or never so many myriad's of ages hence. Resolved to do whatever I think to be my duty and most for the good and advantage of mankind in general. Resolved to do this, whatever difficulties I meet with, how many and how great soever.
5. Resolved, never to lose one moment of time; but improve it the most profitable way I possibly can.
6. Resolved, to live with all my might, while I do live.
7. Resolved, never to do anything, which I should be afraid to do, if it were the last hour of my life.
9. Resolved, to think much on all occasions of my own dying, and of the common circumstances which attend death.
17. Resolved, that I will live so as I shall wish I had done when I come to die.
19. Resolved, never to do anything, which I should be afraid to do, if I expected it would not be above an hour, before I should hear the last trump.
29. Resolved, never to count that a prayer, nor to let that pass as a prayer, nor that as a petition of a prayer, which is so made, that I cannot hope that God will answer it; nor that as a confession, which I cannot hope God will accept.
48. Resolved, constantly, with the utmost niceness and diligence, and the strictest scrutiny, to be looking into the state of my soul, that I may know whether I have truly an interest in Christ or no; that when I come to die, I may not have any negligence respecting this to repent of. May 26, 1723.
52. I frequently hear persons in old age say how they would live, if they were to live their lives over again: Resolved, that I will live just so as I can think I shall wish I had done, supposing I live to old age. July 8, 1723.
53. Resolved, to improve every opportunity, when I am in the best and happiest frame of mind, to cast and venture my soul on the Lord Jesus Christ, to trust and confide in him, and consecrate myself wholly to him; that from this I may have assurance of my safety, knowing that I confide in my Redeemer. July 8, 1723.
67. Resolved, after afflictions, to inquire, what I am the better for them, what good I have got by them, and what I might have got by them.
One of my quiet joys in this cacophonous world is receiving Image Journal in the mail. It's one of those things that is infrequent enough -- quarterly -- that I forget about it until I discover the surprise at the mailbox. Then I sit down and am ushered inward and upward as artists, writers, and poets contemplate life and faith.
In the issue I just received I enjoyed the following poem by Irish poet Eamon Grennan. I thought it was fitting to share given my post on resurrection tomatoes.
Resurrection Oranges
Eamon Grennan
Shouldering the late snow aside, the snowdrops and tight
green fists of skunk cabbage thrust up and up. Likewise
nameless threads of pale green, each with a tiny leaf-cap,
have started to shine all over the dark-drenched mulch
of dead leaves. Transparencies of air! In which the world
starts happening, taking shape from almost nothing (nothing,
and just look at us!), and how light, that is a cataract of quiet
astonishment through the dining-room window, Cezannes
a bowl of fruit before our eyes: green pears and pale red
yellow-speckled apples, oranges lit like lamps in their own
sanctuary, all take a sudden swerve (nature mort as they are)
into resurrection, it seems that easy, so even the word
home, a fugitive bluebird, closes its wings and settles like
a native come to roost, to ripen, quiet, in one sunlit corner.
I have been thinking a lot lately about the resurrection of Jesus. Thus, Easter had special significance this year. I gave a short address at church Easter morning about this. You may listen to it by clicking : On Resurrection and Tomatoes (streaming audio, 4 1/2 minutes).
- Al's been thinking, too, about the resurrection.
- Here's something I wrote on Easter earlier in my treatment (2004).
Thanks, Bill and Rollin, for editing and setting up the audio link.
I'm emerging from the third of four rounds of chemo before my reassessment tests in October. My body is protesting. But I continue. The fact that I have not written anything in a while reflects my level of existence somewhere not far above, well, existing.
Like everyone else, I've been trying to comprehend Katrina. The endless stream of images reminds me of something Rick said to Ilsa: "it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world." My problems seem like a hill of beans these days. The immensity of suffering and loss of life in New Orleans dwarf my own self-important battle with cancer.
James, the brother of Jesus, reminds us, "What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." He gives this comment in the context of considering the "one Lawgiver and Judge, the one who is able to save and destroy." And for me, it is only in my connection to this one who is able to save that I find anything to grasp beyond the thought of merely being a mist.
So I rest in these rough times by praying with the Psalmist:
My heart grew hot within me,
and as I meditated, the fire burned;
then I spoke with my tongue:
"Show me, O LORD, my life's end and the number of my days;
let me know how fleeting is my life.
You have made my days a mere handbreadth;
the span of my years is as nothing before you.
Each man's life is but a breath.
Man is a mere phantom as he goes to and fro:
He bustles about, but only in vain;
he heaps up wealth, not knowing who will get it.
But now, Lord, what do I look for?
My hope is in you."
(Psalm 39:3-7)
Even this alternative medicine skeptic has found a non-traditional treatment for cancer:
Unfortunately, the close-minded medical establishment at MD Anderson will not allow this soothing medicine to be employed at the hospital during my surgery recovery.
And ye, beneath life’s crushing load, whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing!
It Came Upon A Midnight Clear, Edmund Sears, 1849
I have always felt so fortunate to be surrounded by family and friends with such musical talent. I grew up going to bed listening to my mother play piano through the walls. My sister Julie grew into quite a pianist continuing to study performance into her adult years. And Susan's voice can calm a soul as turbulant as mine.
My roommate at Rice gave me informal guitar and mandolin lessons, as did a close friend from MIT, Kohichi Tamura. One of the favorite memories of my life was living in a house as a student in Boston with a collection of roommates from Berklee school of music, Boston Univ classical music program, and New England Conservatory. I wish I had recordings of those ad-hoc jazz sessions resonating throughout that 200-year old wood house.
Our friend from Rice, Judy Wu, who has been a help to me from her job as physician assistant at MD Anderson, just released her first CD. We just missed the relase party last weekend here in Houston. Yesterday, she stopped by with the CD to my outpatient room while I was receiving chemo. You can listen to some of it (and order it) here.
And my friend Nils Jonsson, whom you have heard about in past posts, has a few unpublished recordings of music he has written and performed at his church. Two of my favorites are a jazz tune, Can't Believe You Love Me, Too and a sacred praise chorus, I Believe. One evening while I was in the hospital recovering from surgery, Nils came to visit and wheeled me down into the atrium, where he played these and other tunes on the grand piano as I and several other random people whose lives were entangled with cancer listened. It was one of those good memories sprinked among the darker ones.
It may be a tired saying that music can reach deeper than mere words, but I don't know how else to put it. The Bible speaks of young David playing for his king, Saul: "Whenever the spirit from God came upon Saul, David would take his harp and play. Then relief would come to Saul; he would feel better, and the evil spirit would leave him."
These friends have made me feel better. And these days, I need this more than usual.
Easter Day, 2004. Today the church celebrates the resurrection of Jesus. Belief in the resurrection is not an incidental belief of the church nor even one of several key beliefs. More than any other element of Christianity, it has been, from the first generation of Christians, the defining belief from which all other doctrines flow.
It might seem to be somewhat odd that someone with extensive education in the sciences would believe such an incredible event. Yet I, along with men and women across history, education levels, cultures, and ethnicities attest to its truthfulness - even unto death.
How can someone possibly believe this? Science discounts the possibility of bodily resurrection and common experience reveals that no one comes back after death. I like to preface my response by first highlighting a couple of thoughts. One is that the absurdity of this event is fully admitted by the New Testament. Ancient people were not more gullible in this area than we - everyone knows dead people don't come back to life. In fact, the very idea that no one ever comes back from the dead is the whole point of this belief - Christ's resurrection was cosmically and historically unique. Second, when we ask for scientific evidence for his resurrection, we are resting on Enlightenment presuppositions of empiricism and rationalism, both of which are unquestioned belief systems that rule out a priori any unique, unrepeatable, miraculous event. It's like demanding that a sunrise be proven with an audio tape recorder. The very rules of "proving" rule out belief of the event from the start.
Beyond these introductory remarks, I do not have the time or space here to discuss why I believe the resurrection. However, I would like to say that my security rests on it. Since the day I was first diagnosed with cancer, I have found that my world has been overturned. I race through thought after thought that seems to slip away through my fingers. I come to rest, however, when thinking about Christ and his resurrection. Finding solace is not the reason I believe, but the result of believing.
One of the leading Christian apologists in our age is N.T. Wright. ("Apologists" are scholars who defend the truthfulness of Christianity). He has gone to great lengths to make a solid case for resurrection in his book, Resurrection of the Son of God. This is a rather large dense book, but if you honestly want to wrestle with this issue, you would do yourself a favor to read him (instead of conveniently writing off your local TV preacher or some simple-minded Christian arguments you may have heard). A more brief treatment of the subject can be found in the chapter "The Challenge of Easter" in another of his books, The Challenge of Jesus.
The day after I was first diagnosed with cancer, I was pleased and surprised to hear an extended interview of Wright on our local NPR station. This was a bright light on a very dark day. I have a recording of the interview and you can listen to it thanks to the help of a friend who made it available on line.
It has been a while since I have written. I have been fighting a cold of some sort, and now Christine has caught it. The chemotherapy is tolerable although the "yuck" symptoms are beginning to occur. I am able to do some normal things, albeit with limited strength and as long as I take lots of naps. I can definitely do this for a few more months. It is good to think that this may be all I have to endure of this treatment.
I must tell you about my first bicycle ride after nearly a year. A couple of weeks ago, I got a strong urge to ride my bicycle. This was odd, for it was about 40 degrees and drizzling outside. Nevertheless, I had an unexpected burst of adrenaline that demanded to get back on that bike.
I pumped the tires back up - they had gone completely flat. I wondered if all the requisite parts of my body would coordinate properly to ride. As I left the garage and got as far as the next door neighbor's driveway, I came to my senses and marveled at my own stupidity. Had I forgotten that I was on chemotherapy? Had it slipped my mind that my abdominal wall was sliced several directions and filled with scar tissue? The rain was so cold as it hit my face. I turned around, wondering what ill-conceived idea had gotten into my head. But as suddenly as I turned around, the urge to press on returned and I turned around once more. I'm going to ride this bike no matter what, I resolved. This brand new liver needed a test-drive.
My leg began burning - the kind of feeling that I would not have experienced in the past until after miles of cycling. I pressed against the wind and rain for about a half-block when an unexpected joy came over me. I could not stop thinking about how two months earlier I was lying in ICU in great pain wondering how I could muster the strength to exist through each creeping minute ahead of me. How far I had come! I rejoiced as I pedaled. How far I had come! My life had hung on edge just months ago and here I was riding my bicycle in ridiculous conditions. I laughed to myself. I thanked my Creator. "Let all who take refuge in you be glad; let them ever sing for joy." I continued to press on. Am I free from disease, or am I in a break during a losing battle? At this moment, who cares? I'm riding my bike in the rain! How odd it was that this could be an enjoyable experience. In all, the trip lasted a block. But it was indeed my most enjoyable bike ride. The rain on my face was exhilarating. Am I mad? I came back wet and freezing, but in a great mood.
Joy, it seems, sometimes depends upon which side of suffering we live.
I turned 36 yesterday. When we talk about someone having a "good" birthday, we usually mean something like a day of fun or a particularly good day at work, or a day with a fun event with one's family. Yesterday was indeed a "good birthday", but not in the usual sense of the term.
I spent most of the day by myself at MD Anderson meeting with doctors, nurses, and genetic research interviewers. Then I made the 250-mile drive up I-45 back to Dallas alone. This is the same dull drive I have made countless times, especially during my college years. The visual highlights of this stretch of Texas highway are limited to a few scenic oak groves, some billboards for Bubba's Bar-B-Q of Ennis ("serious barbeque"), Huntsville State Penitentiary, and a ridiculously huge (even by Texas standards) white statue of Sam Houston overlooking the roadway. Incidentally, in my mind, this jolly monstrosity does little justice to that great man because the statue looks too much like the giant Pillsbury Dough Boy from Ghostbusters.
In any case, I had a delightful day. I had some CDs and a book-on-tape but found myself opting instead to sit in silence. Among other things, I contemplated 36. I kept recalling a small private thought I had in the early days after diagnosis last summer. During those dark days, when looking at data showing a median life expectancy of something like seven months, I wondered if I would see 36. And here I was, driving down this same ol' road on that very day. 36 had indeed come. The tumors were gone. The doctors were more optimistic than usual, and overall, I didn't feel too sick. (although the Sonic burger was still stubbornly resisting digestion -- Sonic is still the height of cuisine on I-45).
To be sure, the dough-boy statue was still ridiculous and the penitentiary still loomed. But the Bubba's signs were a bit more humorous. It also seemed like there were more oak groves. And they were more beautiful than I had noticed before. The air seemed fresher, as well. So if anyone asks... yes, I did have a good birthday.
Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.
On this day of remembrance of Martin Luther King Jr, I am mindful of this quote of his that I have thought of often during my bout with cancer. I do not know the days of my life ahead, but that cannot keep me from continuing work today. To me, this quote wrestles with the notion that all we do is in vain considering none of us (nor the memory of us) will be here in just a few decades from now. Meaning to life must thus be located somewhere other than merely in ourselves or our daily work. My friend, Bob Bagwell, who is in remission from brain cancer told me about his feeling somewhat odd in planting a tree orchard on his farm recently, given what doctors say are his chances of being around to see the trees grown. But he went ahead with the plan. Cancer seems only to accentuate the conviction that I share with Bob - that meaning is only found with the recognition that life is lived Coram Deo, in the presence of God. With this acknowledgment, we can confidently be creative and work today although tomorrow we may die. The Apostle Paul put it this way, "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men... It is the Lord Christ you are serving." Col 3:23-24
[Incidentally, there is some controversy as to the origin of this quote. Legend actually has Martin Luther saying this. But there is no written record of the reformer speaking these words. Apparently, the first written evidence of this saying comes from 1944 by a priest named Karl Lotz. In any case, it was MLK Jr who popularized the quote. I was introduced to the quote by my close friend, Rev. Mike Ernst, who told me of it when we first spoke of my cancer.]
Today is the first Sunday of Advent, a season that the church has celebrated for hundreds of years as a time to focus on the coming of Christ - both his Incarnation two thousand years ago and his promised coming when he comes to restore all things.
My friend Bill Burns, who is our church's worship director, and I have written an Advent devotional guide for use in our church, Town North Presbyterian. He has structured it into four sections, each corresponding to a week of Advent and a theme for that week. And he has included the liturgy that we will use in our church on each Sunday in Advent. I have added to this a set of daily devotionals for the weekdays. Each devotional has a passage to read, a paragraph to help the reader understand the passage in light of the Advent theme of that week, a set of a few questions upon which to meditate, and a short prayer.
I invite anyone to join with us in focusing on the coming of Christ this month, so I have included the Advent guide (click to download). It is formatted for double-sided booklet format. This may be a bit confusing but I'm sure you can figure it out - the pages are numbered. To order, put the pages back to back and fold it like a booklet.
Just like everything else I encounter during these days of trials, this Christmas season has a different taste to me. I am hoping it will be a time of reflecting on the coming of Christ, a hope that is really my only hope.
Incidentally, the joyous art above is that of Anne Brink.
Few of my entries have generated as much response as Cool Hand Luke. My Uncle Ron sent me an item he ran across in the 1966 Farmer's Almanac by a fellow named Sam Foss. I found it pertinent and amusing:
Luck loves the hard hitter and glorifies grit.
An' smiles on the man who stan's up an' gets hit;
Though fate strikes out strong, with a blow 'twixt the eyes.
It loves the stout soul who still fights and defies.
The fight is not gained by the strong or the fleet,
But by the grim chap who don't know he is beat.
This life is a fight that has got to be fit,
The best thing you can do is stan'd up and git hit.
Also, here is a text on the same theme from 2 Corinthians:
But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body.
Well, I'm back on the chemo track. In fact, I'm taking it as I write...
I'm in a private mini hospital room with Christine - they use these rooms to administer outpatient chemo. They've hooked me up and the chemo is just beginning. Soon, I'll feel sick, but right now I'm feeling fine. In fact, I’ve been feeling steadily stronger day by day.
Last week, I spent a lot of time resting in between eating and trying to keep up with work. While watching TV, I caught a favorite old movie of mine, Cool Hand Luke. It has a classic scene that I find fascinating. Paul Newman plays Luke, who is sent to a low-security prison for sawing the tops off parking meters. Shortly after arriving, out on the grounds of the prison, Luke gets caught in a boxing-style fight with Dragline, the local prison bully. It is not much of a contest. With the other prisoners gathered around in a circle watching, Dragline hits Luke again and again without much resistance. The pounding continues to the point where every blow causes Luke to fall to the ground. Again and again he is knocked down, yet he always manages to stand up again, against the advice of the sympathizing observers and even Dragline. “Stay down, you’re beat,” utters Dragline. “You’re gonna have to kill me”, Luke replies. The remarkable outcome is that Luke has such an iron will that the bully finally just walks away. While the technical "loser", Luke comes away the psychological winner.
Later, Luke wins with a bad hand in a poker game and Dragline says it was just like the fight. "He kept comin' back at me with nothin'." Luke's response results in his new nickname, "Yeah, well sometimes nothin' can be a real cool hand."
I think fighting cancer is a lot like that fight scene. The cancer-chemo bully hits you every time you get enough energy to stand up. Again and again this continues. Here I am just getting to my feet after the surgery and I'm about to get hit by the bully again. The goal of the process is to be like Luke - keep getting up until the bully gives up, even if you got nothin'.
My life seems to revolve around the issue of poop lately. The doctors and nurses are all quite interested in it. They anticipate it, analyze it, measure it, time it, and are even willing to clean up accidents with it. At first I was even embarrassed to speak of it with them. I have now become somewhat desensitized to the existence of poop. Yet I still have concluded that dealing with poop is near the bottom of human existence.
As a Christian, I naturally ask if Scripture has anything to say about poop. Some might laugh at such a thought, but remarkably the Bible does address the topic. While the majority of clean-cut Christians would not mention such topics, the Bible indeed deals at this level of reality without such avoidance.
Of the many places where the Bible addresses the topic of poop, one particularly interesting place is in the New Testament book of Philipians, where Paul writes,
What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish [may be trans. "poop"], that I may gain Christ… I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings…
I really admire the Apostle Paul. He likes to tell things how they are. Direct. No candy-coating. I think he came from Philadelphia. The word that he uses here is only found in this verse in the whole of the New Testament. It is likely an expletive, but is rendered by the euphemistic “dung” or “rubbish” in English translations. Paul says, in effect, “Look, everything I have in life I consider to be at the level of poop compared with knowing Christ and his resurrection.” He puts it on the line. Life ain’t worth poop without knowing Christ and his resurrection. The more I personally have to deal with poop, the more clearly I understand this passage - an unexpected advantage to having colon cancer.
When the church has strayed from its fundamental elements -- Christ and his resurrection -- it has by definition ceased being the church. Sometimes it has become oppressive, sometimes it gets caught up in endless political battles, and sometimes it has become simply a bland institution of nothingness with marshmallow smiles pasted on the faces of its members.
It has become commonplace in segments of mainstream Protestantism and elsewhere to push aside the person of Christ and particularly the event of his resurrection. Now, mind you, such leaders are usually careful enough not to outright deny it. But they will at least discount it as irrelevant in practice. As long as you find community, as long as your kids have a place to learn right from wrong, as long as you have a support structure to help you through suffering, as long as you are nice to everybody and they are nice to you, as long as you have faith (no matter who or what it is in), then the church is considered a good thing. It doesn’t matter whether or not God revealed himself in Christ or whether or not he raised him from the dead. I like to imagine Paul’s response to such lines of thinking. I think it is safe to make an educated guess as to what he might say: “that’s a bunch of poop”. It may be appealing to the masses, but it is not historic Christianity. Call it “religion” if you want. Call it “country club living” if you want. Call it “hypocrisy” if you want. But don’t call it authentic Christianity.
As I continue to have areas of my life stripped away during this time of suffering, I am afforded the opportunity to observe my life more clearly. Things around me become less and less important in the final perspective: my dreams, my finances, my career, the consumer goods I’ve collected, my house, my reputation. Most all that is left is the reality of my Creator and his revelation to humankind in the person of Jesus. Aside from this, I have concluded that my life has little meaning. Aside from Christ, my life really is a pile of poop.
some thoughts about suffering, evil, and the existence of God
I have been recently thinking about how I consider the presence of suffering in the world - or more specifically, my own. (Yes, it seems a bit odd to think about one's own thoughts, but doing so is sort of a hobby for me.) To put it mildly, I am unsettled at the injustice, or at least the unfairness, of my situation. But I know I am not alone in these thoughts. It seems that everyone else also has an inner outrage at something in the world relating to suffering or evil. For some, it is a simple inner revulsion at a particular form of political oppression or hypocricy. For others, it is an inner angst at the unfairness of suffering. For still others, the presence of injustice in the world causes them an uneasiness.
Much is made about the presence of evil and suffering in discussions concerning the existence of God. It is often said that the presence of suffering is inconsistent with the existence of God. But I would submit that outrage at suffering or evil is inconsistent with the non-existence of God. We humans have a sense that things in the world are not "right". We cry out to our Creator and ask "why?", either consciously or subconsciously. We have a sense of what "ought" to be, even though it is not. This oughtness, I submit, is based on a degree of knowledge of our Creator and his purpose.
C.S. Lewis puts it this way: "When I was an atheist...my argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A person does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line...Atheism turns out to be too simple. If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning. "
As to whether the presence of evil is inconsistent with the Christian God, who is said to be loving and gracious, I would simply point to the reference source of Christianity, the Bible. I will readily admit that the light-weight, simplistic, Christianity found in much of America is indeed inconsistent with the presence of evil. But authentic, historic Christian faith is not. The Bible is full of honest reckoning with evil. It does not deny evil and suffering, unlike the situation where no one wants to speak about the 500-pound gorilla in the room. Rather, the Bible confronts evil directly and presents Christ as interacting with, confronting, and having victory over evil. While some might say the Christian God cannot exist with suffering in the world, the Bible implies that we cannot even conceive of the true Christian God without it!
This victory over evil as described in the New Testament is not yet complete. The resurrection of Christ is called a "first-fruit", which happens to be one of my favorite Biblical terms. As a first-fruit, the resurrection is both the taste and the guarantee of the ultimate consummating victory over evil. Whether one agrees with this is one thing. But one cannot say that Christianity is inconsistent because of the existence of evil and suffering. After all, it only exists intertwined with it.
All this is to say that authentic Christian faith cannot be shaken by the presence of suffering. In fact, it cannot exist apart from a true reckoning with suffering. This is not to say that the heart does not wrestle with these things. Mine certainly does! I even find solace in the idea that the heart must wrestle with suffering if it is to find God. One might even say that only in suffering is God most clearly understood. Drawing again from the words of C.S. Lewis: "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”
In the past week and a half, I have been enjoying the effects of the Christian principle of “bearing one another’s burdens.” The result has been a renewed vigor to fight.
The phrase "bearing one's burdens" comes from a command in the Biblical book of Galatians. Like so many other expressions in the King James Version of the Bible, this phrase has worked itself into the English language and has lost some of its edge in common usage. But it really is quite a powerful concept.
The idea here is that the church – which is at the same time invested fully in the world and exists as an alternate society or “kingdom” from the world – is likened in the Bible to a family. Jesus and the writers of the New Testament use the term “brothers” to describe those who are in this alternate society. It is interesting that this is the metaphor chosen. Of course, family members are not those with whom we would necessary choose to associate, like we do our friends. Rather they are those to whom we are born and to whom we are naturally related. Part of the joy and difficulty of life in a family is learning how to get along with and learning how to love and appreciate one's family members. But to me, one of the most remarkable aspects of a family versus a collection of friends is that family members go the distance with you. They make sacrifices for you. They grieve when you grieve and rejoice when you rejoice, in spite of their own situation. If you go to prison or suffer from AIDS or are the victim of a disabling auto accident, your friends may drift away but your family will more than likely still claim you as their own, at least when a family works the way we all somehow know that families should. In more typical trials, they regularly pick up some of the load on your shoulders and bear it on their own. This is a wonderful feature of the church when it is working as designed.
In anticipation of surgery last week (when I did not yet know it would be cancelled), I got together at short notice with a group of guys from my church to hang out for an evening. I was expecting and hoping for an evening of distraction – maybe some pool, a little poker, etc. At the get-together, I also wanted to spend a short time just telling them what was going on, and what kinds of things I was going to need from them in the coming year. Beating cancer takes extraordinary will power and I wanted to ask them to help push me along. I also wanted to tell them that saying stupid things to someone with cancer is way better than distancing themselves altogether, so please stay engaged. This short request turned into a long discussion about what I was going through and what my concerns were. More remarkably, they shared with me their own difficulties dealing with my cancer. I came to find out that they were burdened by my illness. There was even some shared weeping. They also communicated to me why they wanted me around and how I might be missed in the coming months as I fight this thing. We discussed how suffering fits into Christianity. Finally, they spent some time praying for me. That evening, as my good friend Jay Horne drove me home and we were discussing the problem of suffering, I began to notice a remarkable thing had happened that night. My burdens had been distributed among these brothers. They weren’t merely offering to “help” (which can sometimes be a safe, even patronizing offer), but they were genuinely engaged in a sort of suffering-with-me. They were fulfilling one of the purposes of a church – to love one another like family. I knew this taste from my natural family and from my in-law family. And now I saw that the church was providing that same taste.
As a student of Greek, one thing that I have noticed about the New Testament is how often the second person plural is used in commands. Many of the exhortations given are to “ye”, but there is no good contemporary English word for “ye” (That is, other than “ya’ll”. Southerners, you see, have discovered that “ya’ll” provides a precise, useful way of expressing the second person plural, but Northerners prefer to be remain imprecise and vague because they think “ya’ll” betrays a certain stupidity. I must admit, after living in the Northeast for many years, I avoid using it myself when possible.) So for example, the New Testament command to “pray continually”, is actually “ya’ll pray continually”. In other words, many of the Bible’s commands are intended to be heard and obeyed corporately. The fact that "you" is ambiguous, and that we Westermers are so individually minded, results in our missing the corporate element of these commands. The command I referred to above, “bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” is a plural command. You might say the command is “ya’ll, bear one another’s burdens.” The beautiful thing about this is that the burdens of an individual member of the church are to be borne corporately by the church. This is what I am thankful to be enjoying right now.
One last thought about this concept. It is interesting that the Bible says that in bearing one another’s burdens, we “fulfill the law of Christ.” It is a Christian activity to truly bear burdens. I’m not saying that only Christians can bear burdens. Nor am I saying that all (or even many) Christians actually do so. I am merely saying that Christianity provides a solid foundation for true burden-sharing. This, I think, is because this command is rooted in the concept of sacrifice and emptying oneself for another. God himself established the pattern for this when he lowered himself to become like us, suffer for us, and die for us. You might say that in Christ, God bore our burdens in the deepest way. From this perspective, Christian ministry to others becomes an activity of humbling oneself to bear the burdens alongside those whose burdens are heavy.
One Christian brother of mine, who was not there that night, told me individually (and I believe honestly) that he wished he could bear the cancer in his body for me. Wow! What can I say to such love? The Apostle John put it this way, “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers.” As I have seen this concept put into action in the past week in the comments and actions of dozens of brothers and sisters, I have been greatly strengthened to fight this battle.
Thanks, Rollin and Mark, for setting me up with this site. Many people have inquired about my situation, so I asked Mark to set up a place where I can put information. My primary reason for doing this is simple – I am desperate for people to pray for me, and I hope this will assist and encourage my friends and family in doing just that. It is also here because I would like to share my thoughts in the hope that others might find in them some ways to deal with their own sufferings in this world. Finally, with no other confidence but in my king, Jesus, I know that something beautiful will come from this. And I want to declare this beauty to the world.