Honesty in Prayer

I’ve written about my attempts to be honest in dealing with cancer. And for the most part, I think I have been honest. But last week I reached a new degree of honesty in my prayer life. As I have shared before, I have acknowledged my anger with my condition. I’ve admitted to fear as I face the future. But a few days ago I reached another level of frustration.

I was by myself. I was not having a good day. I was wondering if I had begun the downhill slide to death. In the midst of these feelings, I began to weep uncontrollably, crying out to God, “It’s not fair! It’s just not fair! Why me? Why won’t you take this evil thing away from me?” It was a cathartic experience that immediately brought cleansing to my soul.

In reflecting on the experience, I was reminded of the Psalmist’s stance as he faced uncertainty and anger and distress. In his honesty, he cried out to God, “Why have you forsaken me? Why do you allow the wicked to prosper and the righteous to suffer? When will all this end? What have I done to deserve this?” The psalmist was never nearer to the heart of God than when he honestly expressed his anger and frustration over what was happening.

But the Psalmist didn’t stop with frustration or doubt. He always moved to certainty: “Nevertheless, I will trust you….” On the cross, Jesus used the psalmist’s words, “Why have you forsaken me?”, to express His pain and frustration. But at the end of the day, He affirmed His faith in God : “Into your hands I commend my spirit.”

I am developing a new honesty in my prayer life. I’m trying to be real with God. After all, He already knows my feelings — there’s no hiding them from Him. He much prefers my coming to Him forthrightly, in all candor, honestly expressing my innermost feelings to Him. I’m learning, with Jesus, to sweat great drops of blood as I cry out for deliverance, but then to place my life in His hands: “Nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done.”

It’s only when I’ve been honest enough to admit my fear and frustration, my disappointment and anger, that I am then able to place my life in His hands, knowing that He will do what’s best. There can be no resurrection without the cross, no Easter without Good Friday, no wholeness without first being crippled. I’m reminded of Jacob wrestling with the angel all night long, until his joint was thrown out of place and he limped away from his encounter with God. The price of his wholeness was being crippled from his wrestling with God. But without the honest wrestling match, there would have been no authentic encounter with God!

And that’s where I find myself during these difficult days: searching for wholeness through being crippled by the pain and misery of cancer; discovering eternal life through the bitterness of death; dying in order to live. Is it easy? Heavens no! The tears of last week weren’t the first, nor will they be the last. But I trust that through my struggle with death, I will discover the joy of life eternal through Jesus Christ. I want to discover the truth that Paul discovered, “For me to live is Christ; to die is gain.”

Take my brokenness, Lord, and make me whole. Amen.

Dealing with Anger

I had a wonderful visit this week with a dear friend who is also a therapist. In a gentle, but firm way, she helped me to deal with my anger over what is happening to me. Psychologists remind us that anger is part and parcel of the grief process. What have I done with my anger?

For some Christians, anger is difficult to acknowledge and deal with. We refuse to admit that we are angry. It’s just not the “Christian thing” to do. Others spend time with misplaced anger. While others wallow in anger and never work through it in any redemptive way.

My friend Ann asked me, “What have you done with your anger?”

That’s a good question. I think I have dealt with my anger in an appropriate way. I am angry that this cancer has robbed me of my future on this earth. Just when new opportunities were falling into place and the future for expanded ministry looked bright, here comes pancreatic cancer to deny me of the blessings of this earthly life. Sure, I’m angry. Deeply angry! But, at whom?

There’s nothing wrong in admitting that, at times, we are angry with God. Okay, we don’t believe that God sent this life-ending disease, but couldn’t He have done something to prevent it? Couldn’t God, in His omnipotence, simply snuffed out this dread disease? If He could, why didn’t He? In my humanness, I have a right to be angry with God.

But that is a dead-end street. In the beginning, I had these same thoughts, this same anger, about a loving God who did nothing to stop this horrific, life-ending disease. But I soon moved beyond this God-blaming exercise. God loves me more that I can begin to comprehend, and He would never do anything to bring harm to me or to deny me of abundant life.

So, who can I blame? With whom can I be angry? There are times when there is no one to blame. We live in a fallen, imperfect, world where things like pancreatic cancer occur. Well, then, with whom should I be angry. Not at myself, not at God. But at this imperfect world where babies die far too soon, where people are massacred without cause, where hunger and sickness abound, where those with power crush those who are poor and powerless and marginalized.

But anger at this fallen world is not enough. What am I doing about it? How much of myself am I giving to eradicate the evil in this life? What am I doing to encourage research into life-shortening and life-eroding diseases? How supportive am I, though the gifts of my time, energy, and resources in helping empower those whose lives are robbed of their basic freedom and human rights?

Yes, I’m angry with how my life is ending! I’m angry that the evil of cancer is robbing me of the opportunity of embracing life for years to come. I can choose to deny or repress that anger. Or I can choose to acknowledge my anger, deal with it in redemptive ways, and ask God to keep anger from threatening to rob me of what time I have left.

I choose the latter. I refuse to allow anger to embitter me or to rob me of the joy that God wants to give me. I choose to use what remaining time I have to channel my anger in redemptive ways. I invite you to join me in dealing creatively with our anger as we move toward the future that God has prepared for us—a future devoid of anger and filled with hope and courage.

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The Fear of Death

It seems that there is built into all of us a basic fear of death. I think God intended it that way so we will hold onto life. But for some, this normal fear of death becomes exaggerated, almost psychotic, and it colors the way we live.

I’ve said to you in a former blog that I have no fear of death; it’s the dying I dread.

And that’s true, with some qualifications. Let me explain myself. I grew up in a loving, caring church, but we had our annual round of revival preachers, most of whom were extremely fundamentalist. And no revival was complete without a sermon on the horrors of hell. Some preachers were really good at painting the terrors of those who died in an unforgiven state. I remember, as a little boy, literally “having the hell scared out of me.” Or, at least, that was the purpose of these sermons.

But what they did was to frighten me beyond reason about death and what might lie on the other side. I now realize that these sermons were more Miltonian (Paradise Lost), Dantean (Inferno) or Edwardian (Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God) than Biblical. Much damage and bad theology has been done through these images. Hell, as we know it in popular images of tormented souls is relatively new and has its roots in the Middle Ages. For instance, when Dante wrote his Divine Comedy, he gave us a blueprint for the soul’s descent into hell. But I didn’t know that then and a great fear of hell was engendered in my spirit. I was just a boy, for the most part still innocent, but I was made to fear death because of the reality of the horrors of hell that just might lie beyond.

Throughout my years of growing up, I had an unreasonable fear of death. I often dreaded going to sleep at night, because I might die during my sleep and wind up in some great “unknown.”

I think a secondary cause of my fear of death was the fact that in death I would lose control, and relinquishing all control was a frightening prospect. I liked to think that I had a modicum of control of my life — but that would be taken from me in death.

I wrestled with these inordinate fears long after I should have dealt with them. But gradually my faith in God overcame them. If God is good and gracious, if He wants the best for me, then I have no fear of dying. My sins have been forgiven and hell holds no power over me. I’m bound for heaven, not hell. In addition, why should I fear turning over control of my life to God when He wants nothing but the best for me?

That’s why I say that I have no fear of death. There is still uncertainty about what death entails. There is a degree of fear about the unknown. But the God who promises eternal life will be there to take me by the hand and escort me into the heavenly realm. As the psalmist discovered, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me” (Psalm 23).

I hope you will join me in that certainty as we all move toward the unknown known as death.



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Fatherhood

“Thank God for parents.”

This Father’s Day was the best!!

Both Stephanie (and Henry) and Charley were with me. We laughed and cried and celebrated the joys of being family.

This got me to thinking about my parents. I’m thinking much more these days about those who have helped shape me and whose love has made me what I am.

Neither of my parents would have been considered “successful” by the world’s standards. Neither graduated from high school, and my father never held a job that paid much more than minimum wage. I lived on the wrong side of the tracks - in what today would be considered an impoverished life. But in my view, they were most successful in the ways they touched my life and the lives of many others. They taught me that who I was was more important than what I possessed.

They taught me the values of a life that matters: honesty, compassion, service to others, and a love that is freely given and holds on tenaciously. But, most of all, they taught me the value of faith.

During our nightly family devotionals, I first heard the Bible read by my father, and I learned to pray by hearing the prayers of my mother. Theirs was a faith that was deeply held and demonstrated in their words and actions.

Over time their faith became my own. It grew in ways unlike theirs. We didn’t always agree on points of theology. In fact, they had no carefully reasoned system of theology, they simply lived by what the believed. But their faith continues to influence the way I live my life.

On this Father’s Day, I salute my mother and father, and give thanks to God for the way they taught me to live and give myself in service and love to others. I am reminded of the profound influence we have on our children. My children have not always lived out their faith in ways that I wish they had.

But I have seen the faith that Anita and I tried to instill in them take root and blossom and reach out in ways that my own faith failed to do. I apologize for the many ways I have failed my children, but I rejoice that they have overlooked my mistakes and have affirmed me in my faith.

For many young children, their father is their first hero, their model for living. For over 30 years I have kept a Father’s Day card that Stephanie made for me. In her childish handwriting, she listed her heroes. They were in this order:
“ Daddy, Jesus, and Hercules!”

You see, these were the individuals whom she thought were most powerful, strongest and smartest in all the world.

Tears welled up in my eyes, as I opened my Father’s Day card this year. It said:
“Dad, when I was a kid, you told me about the important things like hard work and good character.. . . but I learned the most from watching how you lived.“

And then Stephanie wrote, this time with much clearer penmanship,
“Who are my heroes? Daddy, Jesus, and Hercules!”

She and Charley have made my life worth living through their unflinching love and their total acceptance and affirmation of me as their father. I pray that you will have the same kind of experience with your children and you will never forget the influence you play on their lives.

Thank you, Mother and Daddy, for being such wonderful parents.
Thank you, Stephanie and Charley, for graciously accepting me as your father.
And thank you, Anita, for making it possible for me to experience the joys of fatherhood and for sharing those experiences with me!

Marriage

One of the many thoughts that has flooded my mind over the past few months has been my gratitude for the greatest gift that God has given me (apart from my relationship with Him) — the gift of Anita as my wife. Yesterday (June 1), we celebrated our 44th anniversary.

I knew I loved Anita back in 1963, but I had no idea of how much that love would grow and shape who I am and how I have functioned in life.

Without getting “syrupy”, I want to acknowledge that Anita, with her considerable gifts in music and art, has been the one who has added splashes of color and beautiful music to my life. Nowhere do I find this better expressed than in the lyrics of Kenny Rogers, “You Decorated My Life.” Rogers writes as if he is writing of Anita’s impact on my life:

All my life was a paper
That was plain, pure and white
Till the balance was right
Till you moved with your pen
Changing mood now and then
Then you added some music
Every note was in place
And anybody could see
All the changes in me
By the look on my face

And you decorated my life
Created a world where dreams are a part
And you decorated my life
By painting your love all over my heart
You decorated my life

Like a rhyme with no reason
And an unfinished song
There was no harmony
Life meant nothing to me
Until you came along
Then you brought out the colors
What a gentle surprise
Now I'm able to see all the things life can be
Shining soft in your eyes

Lest you think we have had an idyllic marriage, we have struggled with many of the same issues that most couples struggle with in marriage. We are almost totally opposite on all the personality profiles. We often see things differently, react differently, and struggle to see the other person’s point of view.

But behind all that is a profound love and trust and respect that have bonded us together in a love that shapes and defines us. And into my rather routine, vanilla, and at times boring life, Anita has added the color and music that have enriched my life more than I can express.

From day one, we have shared the same values, been committed to the same causes, and felt passionately about the same issues. And at the heart of everything has been our shared faith that has bound us together in an unbreakable bond.

Anita could not possibly have been a better wife. She has affirmed me, supported me, forgiven me, and brought out the very best in me. In the words of Scripture, she, as a wife, “surpasses them all.”

And she has been an equally wonderful mother to Stephanie and Charley. As we have reminisced with our children over the past few months, I have been reminded of the many ways she helped shaped their lives, planting seeds of honesty, integrity, creativity, and faith that will serve them well to the end of their lives.

Anita has been my best friend, my lover, my companion in ministry, my confidante and my biggest booster. I can’t imagine life without her.

And so, on our 44th anniversary, I want to pay tribute to the one who has enriched my life is indescribable ways. Though death may temporarily separate us in a physical way, nothing can ultimately break the bonds of love that have bound us together for all these years. Using the words of Buzz Lightyear, our love will last “to infinity and beyond!”

"Kindness"

This week’s "Along the Journey" has more to do with living than with dying, but the subject has been on my mind lately and I want to share some thoughts about kindness.

The first Bible verse I learned as a pre-schooler in Sunday School was “Be ye kind one to another” (Ephesians 4:32). A couple of years later, we learned the remainder of the verse: “…tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God in Christ has also forgiven you.”

I have tried to model my life after this admonition. Admittedly, I have often failed, but kindness has always been a virtue that I tried to embrace. As I look around me today, I wonder whatever happened to kindness. We live in such a raucous, angry, disrespectful society. Just yesterday, as I was filling my car with gas, another customer became angry with the attendant because her receipt didn’t print. She stormed into the office and very loudly berated him. He accused her of not pressing the right button. It wound up with each using an ethnic slur against the other — all over such a minor thing. Whatever happened to kindness?

Kindness doesn’t mean going along with that which is wrong; nor does it mean allowing others to mistreat you. Sometimes we have to take a strong stand. But we can still do it with kindness, without denigrating the person.

Someone has said, "Love talked about is easily ignored. But love demonstrated is irresistible."

Jesus not only talked about love and kindness, but He modeled it for us. He was the epitome of kindness. He paid attention to those with whom He was interacting. His kindness signaled acceptance and affirmation. The Bible depicts kindness as the character of God. And the Apostle Paul lists kindness as a gift of the Spirit.

Kindness for others is not an emotion or a feeling, it is a choice. We choose to be kind to others, to embrace them in love, because God tells us to.

But what is kindness?

The Hebrew word is “hesed”:
“O Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, for His steadfast love [hesed, kindness] endures forever.”

The Greek word for Christ is “Christos.”
The Greek word for kindness is “Chrestos.”
Many in the ancient world thought followers of Christ were actually “Chrestians,” followers of kindness. To be kind means ultimately to look like Christ.

Kindness means to be good, useful and helpful, considerate and gracious in all situations regardless of circumstances. It means that we care for the feelings of others and feel with them. It involves suffering with those who suffer, struggling with those who struggle, and honoring the worth and value of every person.

It’s not always easy to be kind, but as followers of God, it is an essential ingredient of our character. As I move down the last phase of my earthly journey, I have given thought to how I would like to be remembered. I hope that some of you will have some positive memories of things I am and have tried to do. I hope you’ll ignore my failures, or, at least, forgive me for them. But I hope that a few of you will have seen in my life a measure of kindness. That would make me happier than you can imagine.

So, the circle is nearing completion. From my childhood teaching of “be ye kind one to another,” I hope that I have moved on to the rest of the story: “tenderhearted, forgiving one another.”
That’s a goal worthy of all of us.

Does God Answer Prayer?

I’ve been taught all my life that God loves us, that He hears our every prayer and answers them all. I believe that — and so do you.

So, what am I to feel about the recent medical news? For months, thousands of you, from every corner of the globe, have been praying for me and for my healing. And then, last Thursday and Friday, several hundred of you were involved in a twenty-four prayer vigil. You were praying at the very time that I was having an MRI to determine the effectiveness of my three months of chemotherapy.

When the word came, it was not good. The cancer continues to grow. The chemotherapy, with all the ravages it caused, was not effective. But what about prayer? Did God not hear — or did He choose not to respond?

I read an article yesterday in which the writer says that the Scripture promises us the same miracles that happened in Jesus’ day. Then he gives an example of praying for his wife’s healing from cancer and how God answered his prayer and his wife is cancer-free, nine years later. He also prayed for God to give them another child, after being told by doctors that his wife couldn’t conceive. But God heard and answered his prayer and they had a child.

If it were only that easy. Or maybe God has it in for me. Or maybe it is all wishful thinking. What are we to do about unanswered prayer? How are you supposed to feel when heaven is silent?

First of all, I’m not willing to state that God didn’t hear or respond to our prayers. Who knows the kind of healing that is taking place — for me and for you —mental, spiritual, and physical healing. Do we really know enough to say that God hasn’t responded to our prayers?

Go back and read the Psalms. Listen as the writers struggle with this whole issue of unanswered prayer and a God who seems distant, whose face seems to be hidden just when they need Him the most. But read on and listen as they gain confidence in the promises of God.

Lest you think I sound too pious, that I’m implying that I have resolved the problem of unanswered prayer, let me assure you differently. I struggle mightily with the issue. I am disappointed, not just for me, but for all of you who have prayed so diligently and fervently, only to face a silent heaven.

My experience over the years, along with the experience of millions of God’s children through the ages, assures me that God is a God of love who hears and responds to our prayers. God will not grant every request or take away every pain or struggle. But He will always be there to wrap us in His arms of love, to wipe away every tear, and to give us to strength to face another day.

Keep praying. Don’t give up. God hears and is responding to our prayers in ways we can’t understand. I believe this with all my life!