Category: The Cancer Trip: Friends, Family, Victories, Defeats

The Conclusion But Not The End

When I started The Cancer Trip some months ago I had a fairly good idea of which particular personal stories I would share, which I would not and the vulnerabilities I would share that were an intimate part of my journey in it all. But something changed as I neared what I am calling the conclusion but not the end.

It is truly going to be the conclusion of the “trip,” per se. But it is not the end of the larger story. I was going to conclude with mentioning some others whose stories and battles were ongoing but with whom I did not have the same level of personal intimacy. During the course of this trip we have taken together, one that I was going to mention is doing better. Her name is Jill. One has begun his own trip since we began; a family member. His name is Alan. The news started with a sense of gravity but has since become quite favorable all things considered. And finally, one, whom I was going to put in the realm of fighting the good fight has since been cured. Her name is Selene. More about her story, of which I have become a part, will be covered shortly.

The larger story ends when there is no more cancer; when there is no need for what I and countless others have done in documenting their stories. No more stories of fear, death, separation, sorrow, loss, shock, radiation, chemo, hair loss, vomiting, weight loss, surgeries, mastectomies, treatments, disappointments, questions, doubt and all the things that come against us from a ruthless, lying enemy whose intent is to kill and subdue and deceive us into coming into agreement with his falsehoods and the diagnoses and symptoms of the natural world. He is ruthless and knows nothing of fairness or playing by the rules because he is void of anything but lies and treachery.

To me, the larger story begins to end when the church around the world begins to move in not only a knowledge of but a living out of who we are in Christ: our true identity, Who God is, in and for us: His true identity and, therefore, our authority to heal the sick, in Jesus Name. It is ours to reverse the trend and see the realities, in future generations, of divine health, where there is no sickness at all.

For the sake of brevity, I’ll include only the major points in Selene’s story. I’ll predicate this account by establishing that at no point during her two battles with cancer, did chemotherapy nor radiation have any effect; even the doctors corroborated these findings.

In 2012, Selene was diagnosed with a golf ball sized tumor in her brain. She lost her eyesight in one eye, but after prayer, just a week later it was totally restored. A catheter placed in her chest to deliver chemotherapy directly to her brain fell out leaving no scar whatsoever. Despite radiation to her brain there is no evidence of scar tissue and while one MRI showed the tumor had grown and spread, it miraculously, totally disappeared.

In 2015 she was diagnosed with colon cancer, underwent surgery, chemotherapy and radiation. She was ultimately given a written determination, from the medical community, that she would die, after the failure of the chemotherapy and the subsequent spread of the cancer to her lymph nodes and breast. Shortly after, with prayer and faith-sound-therapy she was determined to be totally cancer free.

Her story, in full, will become available soon. I believe it carries the testimony of Jesus which is the spirit of prophecy and many will be healed because of it. I invite you to move in your authority by declaring this testimony over someone you know that has not only cancer, but any need of healing. Jesus’ stories are amazing, powerful and ours.

Thank you for taking this trip with me. May you carry more hope, more provocation, more faith and see more healings.

There are several points to be made as we take a brief step back before heading toward the end. Or, perhaps the beginning. The difficulty in this particular part of this blog is to give context and to keep on point without straying too far off the true intent. I’m going to bring some thoughts to the table but would far rather you make up your own mind or pursue further than to give the impression that I am trying to persuade or manipulate you.

So, in light of my experiences and your own in this area, what conclusions do we draw? I feel as though we live in a culture that highly stresses knowing and being right, but that relies so heavily on that avenue being accessed through the five physical senses or empirical or so-called scientific methodology; in short, anything that can be observed, measured and proven. But disappearing tumors do not exist in the aforementioned realm. In the case of my daughter and my friend’s father, my faith tells me that a healing miracle had taken place; the first, for which I was definitely grateful, and fully attributed to God, the second I consciously tried to partner with God and saw good results in both. With my friend, I, like many others, partnered with God but we did not see the outcome, the miracle we wanted. Why? I simply do not know. And sometimes, I think, that is the best answer we can possibly give. Not to the point of denial or just being dismissive but I simply can’t explain why my daughter lived, my friend’s dad became cancer free over night and my best friend died. Perhaps, more often than we care to admit, we just do not know; and I think it’s often wiser to just say it rather than come up with something, anything, just to try to pass off the idea that we do know.

Which brings us to the question as to whether or not God is good. Well, is God good, all the time or not? Was God good when my daughter lived? Was God good when my friend, your friend, my mother, your mother, dad, child, valued one, precious one, indispensible one died?

May I suggest that without a genuine, personal relationship with the living God (remember the me I described earlier? yeah, that guy) it becomes a pretty easy slam-dunk to begin to accuse God. “How could a loving God allow something like this to happen?” But please allow me to remind us that there is an enemy that means nothing but harm for us and loves to taunt us during losses like these. And the shortest route he employs is to blame someone for this. It has to be someone’s fault. And when we have neither rhyme nor reason for our unspeakable loss and we must have some type of answer, we often put it on God.

(And, I have friends and know others who have prematurely lost loved ones, who are in loving, intimate relationship with God, yet the pain of loss has opened up doors of resentment and accusation toward God.)

I must be far more brief than I want to here, but it is totally inconsistent with the essence and nature of God to think that He uses illness or death as a teaching tool, or a lesson or, worse, punishment and the burden of proof that God does this lies with that view’s proponent. May I suggest that we do ourselves immeasurable harm to entertain such ideas.

Closely associated with this type of confusion is the idea that God is in control. Have you ever thought that it could be that God is in charge but not in control? Do I know why God chooses not to usurp man’s free will or allows in His wisdom what He could easily change in His power? Or that He has chosen to limit Himself in a way that allows much more of our interaction with Him? No, I do not know why or how; but I hope this, at least, gives you pause.

Disclaimer: I’m going to suggest a book for those who are sincerely seeking perspective and insight. Will this blog or this book offer all the answers? Probably not; but they may offer a beginning, an avenue heretofore not traveled. If so, good. But in personally endorsing this book, I have neither sought nor been offered gain of any type except the satisfaction that someone, through this, might be helped in some way.

The book is The Essential Guide to Healing by Bill Johnson and Randy Clark, especially chapters 5-7. There are valuable insights throughout its pages.

God is good . . . all the time. While there are things in life beyond our understanding for the present moment, often answers come in time. But the honest truth is that I am sick of cancer and I feel that more and more we are coming to realize that God wants us to be active participants in not only healing those that are afflicted but wants to give us plans, strategies and cures to completely eradicate cancer. And not only that, but every other work of the enemy.

My Friend

In the aftermath of the miraculous healing of my friend’s father, there arose a bit of palpable resentment followed by open sarcasm toward me by some in the church leadership. Rumors had arisen regarding our small gathering to anoint, declare and pray for his healing and it seemed to offend some in prominence who wanted to delegate the healing event solely to the prayers of the church and relegate our efforts to pride or showmanship. Although I loved it there, I knew I had to leave in order to find a place where my newfound faith would be accepted, nurtured and allowed to grow.

I found such a place in the spring of 2007. (While I was searching, I read . . . voraciously . . . everything I could get my hands on that revealed this new way of thinking, of learning, of relating, of experiencing God, of loving and being loved of God, of partnering with God, of nearly everything!) I went to this church, which was about 25 miles away, solely on the advice of a friend. The moment I walked through the doors I knew I was home despite not knowing a single person there. It was the “next” part of an already extraordinary journey.

For the first few weeks I would sit in the back and just observe. I watched the people, meeting a few as relationships began to form, but mostly just observing this completely different environment. I would get there early, stay until almost everyone had left and intently, purposely watch: how people worshipped, interacted with one another, responded, especially after the “preaching” or “sermon” was finished, to the “ministry” time, a phenomenon I found quite fascinating.

The most significant observation centered around one man who sat in the front row for whom, Sunday after Sunday, people would queue simply to get a hug or word of encouragement. This man became my mentor and my friend. He was like the father I never had, even though we were just several years in age apart, and the brother I never had. I have met very, very few who loved, honored, valued and esteemed others the way he did. He was one of the most powerful men I have ever known and yet one of the most humble. They way he listened was extraordinary and in the years I knew him, he never interrupted or rebuked anyone and would lovingly offer guidance only when asked. There was never the hint of control or self-centeredness about him; his boundless strength was in the way he loved.

I asked him to mentor me early in our relationship and he consented as we also formed a deep friendship. For three and a half years we met at least weekly and then almost daily for the nearly five weeks preceding his death. He died from the effects of brain cancer.

In the months prior, there were constant prayers and declarations being made from many people whom I personally knew had been part of past healing miracles. We contended faithfully, battled courageously and our faith was strong in the belief that our friend would fully manifest the healing that had been provided him at the Cross.

I miss my friend.

Decades had passed. Our daughter’s life was a daily testimony to what God had done. Those years following were constantly changing, filled with adventure, very turbulent at times and witness to an event that brought me face to face with the fact that I had no real relationship with God whatsoever. For someone who was a Bible college graduate, who had taught in a Christian school for years and had served as a missionary in Africa this was quite disconcerting to say the least.

In the spring of 2006 I determined to know this God Who had wrought such an incredible miracle, for Whom I had labored (especially to be accepted), yet, in terms of historical fact I fancied I knew so much but in terms of relational intimacy I pitifully knew so little. I pursued Him all that spring and summer. The context and perspective of that search culminated during September 8-9 in a powerful, intimate, delightful way that I look forward to sharing at some future date.

But within that 24 hour period between the 8th and the 9th everything changed and began to change. (I realize that sounds a bit contradictory but experiences with God are seldom one and done.) It seemed as though I was starting over and it was wonderfully amazing. Within the context of you, the reader, and me and our trip together looking at the intrusions of cancer, there was the unfolding reality that God is outrageously, scandalously in love with us, does, in fact, give us gifts and delights in having us partner with Him in having His kingdom come to earth so that things here can be as they are in Heaven. The eradication of cancer would be a part of this divine partnership.

(At this juncture I want to, at least, acknowledge the question, “If God is so loving and powerful why doesn’t He just wipe out cancer?” Please allow me to address that during the next intermission.)

For a few years preceding that important summer of 2006 I had been attending a church, that while not nearly as strict and controlling as the others I had been a part of it still held a very narrow view regarding the gifts and was nebulous about humans partnering with God except for prayer. This is the contextual stage that is set for the second cancer encounter on our trip.

I was playing bass guitar in a band that led worship in our children’s church. I was told that the father of my friend who played drums in the band had had two operations for a tumor in his brain. These proved unsuccessful and because of the aggressive nature of this tumor and some, otherwise, fatal effects of attempting a third surgery, he was told there was nothing more medical science could do.

During the subsequent time, following my extraordinary rendezvous in September, I began reading everything I could get my hands on concerning Holy Spirit and the gifts. One such book, by Kenneth Hagen, had a profound, provocative affect on me. Though I had no mentor or example with which to guide me, I suggested that four of us, the drummer, his father, a pastor friend who was just beginning to explore the things of the Holy Spirit and me, get together and pray regarding the cancer.

Armed with a small vial of olive oil, as much faith as a novice with no healing experience could muster, a willingness to say, “Yes”, to God and little else, as the others stood by, I put some of the oil from my fingertips on his forehead and told the cancer to go away because Jesus’ beating provided his healing; that the Cross was all sufficient for his miracle. It was all quite simple and only took a minute or two at most. There was no pressure; after all, this had never been done amongst us four before so there was nothing to match or beat. We just did it . . . unrehearsed. Unknown to me at that moment, he was scheduled for an MRI the next day in Chicago.

In a couple days we heard the results: the MRI showed him to be cancer-free! I was dumbfounded then and even now as I recount this. There is absolutely nothing ordinary about taking part in a miracle: human partnership with God in bringing Heaven’s realities to Earth; more specifically to people, all of whom Jesus gave Himself for.

The Cancer Trip: Family, Friends, Victories, Defeats – Intermission

Intermission

There are several points to be made in this first of four events that I am going to chronicle. (There are other events that I will not cover here: my mother died of cancer; my children’s mother is a cancer survivor.) And in the process of making these points I’m certain to come across as an apologist for God. And if I am, the question I raise is what warrants or entitles or allows one to be legitimate in this endeavor? I say that to suggest that one may know much “about” God but it is quite definitely not the same as knowing God. And the implications are enormous.

With this mind we return to the younger version of me described in parts 1 and 2. (And hindsight here is quite handy. If only he had known what I know now.) In order to avoid the miasmas of filters that were certainly influential in my world view and view of God, I can categorically say that I thought I knew much about God but did not know God.

There is a purpose in this if you allow me. Regardless of the life circumstance – illness, tragedy, deception, betrayal, death, loss, uncertainty or whatever you or I have been or will go through, even the good, happy, prosperous, joyful, wonderful times – there always remains the questions of where is God in all this, in what ways is He involved and what is He up to? Can we even know? And my contention is that we can know and it is all about identity, which is all about intimacy.

For example, I love history. Within that I’m drawn particularly to recent American history, especially World War II. Of the many personalities of that time I have had a great interest in Winston Churchill. I have read his 4-volume set entitled, “A History of the English-Speaking Peoples and his Nobel Prize winning, 6-volume set, “The Second World War.” In addition, I have read William Manchester’s biography of Churchill entitled, “The Last Lion.” Add to this many other books written of that period by many different authors that recounted Winston Churchill in as little as a few sentences up to paragraphs and even chapters. I have read much about Winston Churchill.

To the point, though, outside of pictures or recordings I have never seen nor heard Churchill, much less conversed with him. I have not spent a single moment with him. I know much about him but I do not know him. I would not be qualified or entitled to be his apologist for I am confined to written historical works but not one iota of personal knowledge. And while one could derive passion, devotion, motive and purpose from his writings there remains no intimate connection between us that would warrant my support or defense of him.

In much the same way, my Bible studies alone, while of inestimable value, did not become a precursor to a deeper relationship through intimacy born out of time spent together. Ironically, during those years I was too busy doing things for Him and my time with Him was almost solely confined to asking Him for things I wanted or needed. Imagine any relationship based strictly on one asking the other to produce wants and needs but void of listening, sharing, dialoguing, and delighting in each other’s company. I think you get the point.

In my years since then I have met many whose only real concept of God is Someone Who is very far away, very detached. Or that Someone with Whom they are angry because of loss or disappointment because they were convinced that He was in control and therefore responsible. If this describes you, even in part, please stay with me on this trip. It will only take some of your time and you can decide. I offer nothing but my journey, my personal experience and my personal take on these things. Perhaps we will see some myths dismantled, some lies exposed. My hope is beyond bringing clarity to the context of your personal situation, it brings you into closer relationship with a really, really good God so that you can discover the real Him and thereby discover the real, beloved you. And there is an enemy whose primary weapons are lies and deception engaged against us to keep these realities at least in doubt, at worst, in denial.

Part 3 will follow.

Part 2

The Miracle

The voice told us the doctor would be down shortly. In minutes he was there leading us to a small anteroom that seated the three of us. He seemed a giant of a man, perhaps six feet six inches tall and hands that looked so large I wondered how he could possibly operated on the bodies of such small children. In apologizing for the delay he explained that when he got to the location the CT scan had pinpointed the pea-sized tumors to be, they simply were not there. Thinking that there may be an error he consulted with the head radiologist to make sure they were at the correct place. In twenty-five years of practice he had only experienced this twice before. The tumors, that the most up-to-date equipment known to man had revealed just hours before, could not be found. They had disappeared. A miracle had taken place!

The waiting, for now, was over, the void being filled with the rawest of emotions. We cried. We had our baby back! Can you imagine how you would have felt?

It’s funny, (Is that the word I want to use for lack of another?) to me how my thoughts were taking shape after that extraordinarily notable day. I found myself that man who, heretofore, had no grid for a miracle. And now, having lived through one, it felt impossible to really grasp and own that moment. (Are we even allowed or warranted to do that?) Yes, I was incredibly thankful, but that season eroded quickly and became displaced with doubt. Frankly, I was in that place of constantly wondering if this ordeal was in fact over, or if this was simply a reprieve, a break, until we would be living through a variation of what we had just gone through.

In the weeks and months that followed my wondering, doubtful heart forged a prayer that became my constant, my mantra, my point of contact with God. It went something like this: “Father, we would love to know if you are going to spare our daughter. But, if You are going to take her, please let me know so that I can be the strong one and prepare the family for her death.”

I think it was about a year after the miracle, while still presenting God with the same request, I was reading in the Book of Proverbs as was my regimen at that time. I was reading, simply minding my own business as I like to say, not really expecting at that exact moment that God would answer my prayer. But there, in chapter 23 I read, “Let not thine heart envy sinners: but be thou in the fear of the Lord all the day long. For surely there is an end; and thine expectation shall not be cut off.” Upon reading that, I slammed my Bible shut and simply but emphatically said, “No!!!!!!” At that moment almost every trace of doubt had been erased.

I related that story to my pastor who insisted that I stand before our entire congregation of roughly 800 people that following Sunday and share what had happened. The point was to declare it to be God’s word to me, and the promise, based upon my faith in that encounter with His Word, that our daughter would live. I had never done anything like that before, much less felt that I, personally, had heard from God and I didn’t want to start now! I was being asked to put my reputation on the line. More than that I was being asked to put God’s reputation on the line. I wanted no part of that but, somehow, I knew I had to.

Today, 34 years later, she is a happily married woman with children and a business owner. Who would have known? Outside of faith, few.

I do not have cancer nor am I a cancer survivor. But I, like many of you, have had intimate contact with those who have survived, with those who have not and with those whose lives are a battle against an enemy who wants to steal, kill and destroy; who wants to limit the lives of those so filled with value, promise, hope, dreams and destiny. What follows is a small portion of my journey with them.

Part 1

Waiting . . .

Waiting can be tortuous and even tormenting. We had been waiting; trying to be patient, trusting, keeping it all together. But here, now, the waiting became so heavy, feeling so unbearable, that it invoked the desire to run . . . run away, but . . . no, you couldn’t do that because the waiting for the resolution of the dilemma required you to be there, in person, through every agonizing moment. And with the waiting there gradually evolved the exhaustion that comes from trying to keep hope alive when someone you love, who has their entire life in front of them, for whom you have dreamed and prayed, faces life or death. We were waiting for a miracle to happen.

While growing up, the idea of miracles had never really taken up residence in my thinking in any way. Whether they were real or not or even the object of thought or scrutiny, was never an issue with me. Of course, I had heard exclamations from various and diverse sources to the effect that a miracle had taken place or rather there was no logical or empirical explanation that could account for these occurrences. Again, while hearing of these events, there would be nothing that would challenge me to undertake further investigation and they were soon lost to the black hole of discarded information. That is, until Bible college in the 1970’s where I thoroughly read a Book that was filled with miracles. And it was here, where I sat at the feet of those who believed and taught that the way that those miracles took place then, was not for today.

My personal take away from those years, during which I received my degree, was not so much about whether miracles were for today much less through human instrumentation, but the character and integrity of the God Who, . . . well, did He still perform miracles or not? More importantly, what was He like? If I needed a miracle, would He do one for me?

In answering those questions I failed miserably. He seemed a fickle, schizophrenic, mysterious, angry, slave-driving entity that we prayed to, hoping that we could somehow catch him on a, not so angry, not so demanding day. If our words were just right and convincing enough we might be able to manipulate Him (if that were even possible) to grant our wish. And our chances of that seemed to increase in direct proportion to our hard work, dedication and adherence to a litany of prescribed activities that demanded a high degree of execution and excellence.

This, then, is the backdrop that best describes my grid, my understanding, my attitude, my posture as we sat in the doctor’s office and heard the words no one ever wants to hear: that your loved one, your two and a half year old daughter has cancer.

The next eleven months hosted an initial three-week stay in the hospital for surgery, radiation and chemotherapy. There were numerous trips back and forth to the hospital for more outpatient chemotherapy, beautiful blonde hair falling out until there was none, sick reactions to the medications, sleepless nights, and . . . fear. Lots of fear. And there was more wrestling with whether God was in a good enough mood or whether we asked, begged, petitioned, prayed, intervened and interceded on her behalf enough to sway a, maybe, reluctant God to see things our way, to be in our corner. . . to give us our miracle.

After 11 months of giving her the maximum amount of chemo that her body could take, a cat scan revealed two remaining tumors. . . . Not at all what we had hoped, prayed, dreamed, wished for. Not at all what we had expected. Another surgery was scheduled. It was thought to be quite routine, maybe forty-five minutes at the extreme, and then . . .

We sat in the chapel-like surgical waiting room, hoping . . . and waiting. Forty-five minutes came and went and after two hours we felt like dying. There were other pairs of parents, some grandparents, and small family groups in the waiting room with us. Most of them somber, saying little; some trying to break the pall of fear with chatter and feeble attempts at levity; but all wondering . . . and waiting.

Sitting starkly solitary on the top of a desk in the corner was an old rotary phone. It would ring, someone in our tiny community in the waiting room would answer, and the voice of someone somewhere in the hospital would ask to speak with one of the parents by their last name. It seemed as though we were lost in time as forty-five minutes yielded to an hour which then yielded to two, and almost everyone seemed to be called before us. It’s one of those things in life you never forget. The waiting . . . nervously waiting with anticipation and what little hope was left that the fear and the days and weeks and months of uncertainty had not taken. Sitting there running it through your mind for the millionth time, trying to make some sense of it all, just wanting it to be over. And then our call came.