Cancer, Death and the Daunting Question, Why?

Judy Moss died this morning at 8:00 am. I wrote my thoughts down last week after visiting her in ICU but didn’t get them in my blog before she died. My words are inadequate but I pray you will get a glimpse of this generous, gracious woman who loved well. As I reflect upon her life and her death she remains a wounded healer.

My friend Judy is dying of cancer. I met Judy after her children, Mike Moss (B9) and Liz Moss (B23) went through Barnabas. Immediately, I found her to be kind and accepting. Theologically, she is probably more conservative than I am but she has accepted me with enduring grace and unconditional love. Though we never spent much time together, when I was diagnosed with cancer last year, I received a card from her with a check in it to help with my medical bills. When I began treatments she sent a wooden cross to me to hold during chemo. When her daughter Liz came by to check on me during my illness she told me that her Mom wanted to know how I was feeling and how my family, particularly Ricardo, was holding up through my illness. Judy was doing all this while fighting her own battle as cancer was spreading throughout her body.

Watching her journey over the last few years and seeing the torment she is now enduring ignites anger in me which asks, “So what are you doing now Lord?????” Clearly in my humanity I cannot understand how God interacts with such evil tragedies like death by cancer. Seeing her in ICU today it's hard to believe she is still alive with so little left of her physical body. Yet her spirit is clearly alive and her countenance is the same as it was before she got sick: kind, humble, thoughtful and full of faith. Many would say that the Spirit of God is always evident in her presence.

Too often Christians comfort themselves or others with beliefs such as, “God has a purpose which will be revealed later” or “this must be God’s will.” I don’t buy it. Surely the creator of the universe and the lover of our souls doesn’t sit on a throne as a parent unmoved by His children’s pain. Surely our God of grace doesn’t roam the earth deciding what illness or tragedy should be assigned to certain families. I’m not willing to get into a theological argument about what God planned or even foreknew. No one can answer the overwhelming question of “why?” If they try, they haven’t suffered.

So what is true in all of this? What is God doing? He is present. And that presence fills the room with peace. His presence lifts my heart out of the questions and calms me. God’s presence is tangible as He waits for Judy to be ready. When that time comes, the absence of her Spirit in the room will be deafening. Our memories will return to life before cancer and we will be comforted by the life she lived. Her family will grieve deeply because of her physical absence but will be grateful her suffering is over.

For now, those of us who stand by them can offer our presence and that will be enough.
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Time To Kick Some Chemo

Thanks for all the birthday wishes and for your prayers for my treatment today. Because the last one almost killed me I have been a little anxious about this morning. However, I woke up with a heart full of God’s love for me and the belief that He still has plans for me.

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

So, forgive me if I offend you, but I am going out this morning to kick some chemo ass. It may take me down a little, but it is getting me well.

As someone who is on the journey of continually walking through my own brokenness (not always by my choice), I still feel God’s calling to walk alongside others who have found life to be challenging. I still believe in the “God of Second Chances” and I still believe that it is in our pain that we find new life.

So, if you are struggling like me, do not lose hope. Don’t resist your brokenness. Go with it and find the man or woman that is underneath the pain. I believe you will find the truth underneath all of your self protective strategies and when you are stripped of all the masks that you hide behind, you will find the truth that makes you free.

In the Barnabas Journey we have an exercise where we claim some of the gifts or the truth about who we are because of the grace of God. I am starting today with this gift of truth about who I am in “My Fathers Eyes.”

By The Grace of God,
I Am A Special, Worthy and Complete Woman,
Who Needs God’s Help

Connie

Please forgive me for not personally answering emails right now. I read every one of your words of encouragement and they provide great comfort. However, I am low on energy and am finding it hard to stay caught up. So, here is one big thank you coming your way.

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I Miss You Mark

I have stared at a blank page for a month trying to write about a good friend of mine who took his life one year ago. The grief is still so deep that I have not been able to put words to it. I think I am afraid that people will forget how he helped change so many of us. I cling to his memory, full of thanks for every morsel of truth that he mirrored to me. For those of you who did not know Mark, I invite you to read the text of my eulogy at his funeral. It may not be the best way to honor him but I don’t know what else to say. I must share his life as best I can.

You have had the privilege of hearing and meeting some of the people who walked alongside Mark as a friend or mentor. Though he was one of my best friends and co-worker, I am here representing the group of people who sat on the couch. Not the living room couch where friends and family sat but, you know, the big Blue one. (Mark was my therapist)

In case you were not fortunate enough to sit on that couch, let me see if I can give you a little taste of the gifts we received.

Week after week I crawled into that office sure that I was facing the crisis of a life time. Within 60 minutes Mark had convinced me that this was what I had been waiting for my whole life. It was my perfect opportunity to “Grow up.”

If you saw Mark professionally at some point you realized that getting a weekly time slot on his calendar was the way to go. If seeing him required a return phone call forget it. I don’t think he ever understood that returning phone calls and emails was his opportunity to “grow up.”

I can’t answer for all of you, but for me, I finally gave up trying to dress nice for our appointment because his shirts were always prettier than mine.

His hugs were so big that sometime I felt like a skinny person. It didn’t seem to matter how large I was he got those arms around me.

I was always thrilled when he launched into his “neurological brain talk.” It was an out for me because then I could believe that my emotional trauma was simply the result of patterns in my brain that were put there by someone else.

I liked to meet with him on Monday and offer him a cookie (he fasted every Monday.)

I loved to grab that fat little face of his in my hands and break into hysterical laughter over something that was probably a little irreverent.

Mark was brilliant. He could challenge the brightest of people and make things simple enough for a child to understand.

I loved to go to church when Lauren or Hannah (his daughters) were singing. Their singing was beautiful but seeing their father captivated by them was every little girls dream.

I liked it when things were really hard in a session and at the end he would give me a big hug and whisper a prayer in my ear.

I think the reason that we, “the couch people” are here today is that in Marks office and in his heart we found unconditional love and grace. He knew the worst parts of me and I never once felt ashamed in his presence. He gave grace that most people just talk about. He saw in us what we could not see in ourselves.

So why is it that I am standing up here today saying these things at a memorial service about a man who took his life? If he knew all of these things, surely he knew better.

After six days of fluctuating between anger and sadness this is what I am sure of...

Mark was a giver. He gave because he made a difference. He gave because God gifted him with a unique, powerful ability to understand people’s pain and love them in a way that helped change them.

When someone like Mark is contributing in “the sweet spot” of their gifts, in can be intoxicating. When someone like this comes along, we as the recipients of these gifted people must remember that they have limits. They are not God. They experience fear, sin, shame and disillusionment just like us. We are all plagued with hurt and pain to various degrees. Mark was too. But that’s what made him great at what he did.

Some people say that suicide is a selfish act. I think for some it is. For Mark, I don’t believe so. I believe that the pain that he knew so well deceived him into believing that he was doing the best thing for the people that he loved.

In 2001 Mark emailed these words to someone in his Barnabas group.

"The particular significance of psalm 139 is that it, for me is the prayer of exposure... i am so prone to stay hidden (at least the dark side of me) but i know that the only way to freedom is to be exposed... i love the fact that Jesus loves me so much that i can be fully exposed in my darkness and he brings light there... i don't have to hide in shame or fear.. that is, for me, the basis of true freedom and genuine authenticity... It’s incredible grace."

Mark led other people to the light and the grace of Jesus. He knew God's love for him and like us, constantly fought the battle between the truth and the lie. People will make up all kinds of reasons for Mark’s choice to end his life. It was not a good choice. It has and will cause great pain. But let’s not deceive ourselves into knowing what he was going through. Let’s be people of grace.

In our sadness, we think the darkness has won. But I know that if Mark could say something to me today, he would say, “What I told you is true. But it’s even better than I could describe it. When I was fully exposed in my darkest night, Jesus brought the light. I will never again have to hide in shame and fear. By the Grace of God, I am truly free.

Today, we grieve, tomorrow, let’s take the truth, as best we can out to people as Mark did for us. That is his legacy. His life and his death will make a difference if we go out and give what we were given.

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God Have Mercy on My Soul, And Everyone Around Me

I had a devotion (aka blog) already cued up to send out tonight. It was a final thought on Mercy. It was a nice story emphasizing times when I have cried out for Mercy. Then, “tonight” happened and I knew that God was calling me to be honest rather than “spiritual.” (Well I guess that honesty is spiritual, so hopefully this is both.)

This weekend we sponsored a big event for the ministry that I work with. Not only was it a big event but it was a fundraiser, which adds more intensity and an urgency for it to be successful. I typically don’t over spiritualize “spiritual warfare” but this week grief, anger, disappointment and my own character defaults have surfaced with a vengeance. By the time the event arrived on Saturday night I was sleep deprived and bouncing between extreme thoughts and emotions. I was caught in the past, fearful of the future and feeling crazy trying to eliminate what I could not control (the past and the future.) It seems like every time I think I have found peace, I take control and once again try to rely on my own resources. It is a pattern that I hate about myself. I try to make sure that everyone else feels good about “whatever” and I neglect my own self care and the ruthless honesty that is required to walk in humility and peace.

By the time I came home from work today, I was out of internal resources (Also known as "medicine," which is a metaphor used in Barnabas.) My son was demanding and before I knew it, I snapped. His disease causes him debilitating anxiety which shows up in an inability to control his own functioning, from walking to controlling his urinary functions. I had to carry him from room to room and rather than seeing his own internal struggle, I was impatient. He urinated on the couch and that triggered the land mine in me. There was not a gentle bone in my body as I got him into the bath, got him out of the bath and dressed him for bed. As I hurled him into the chair, I broke down. Then, God gave me eyes to see that I am just like Ricardo. This week, I have been full of emotions that I cannot control, anger and anxiety that I thought I had dealt with and yet God had been gentle with me. I am so ashamed. I can’t think of anyone in the world that I love more than Ricardo, but I had no Mercy. You see, when I failed to take care of myself, like getting enough rest, spending quiet time before God and forgiving rather than resenting, I committed my darkest sin; being so empty that the kindness, love and the compassion of Jesus were not in my heart when I needed them. When anger, resentment, fear and exhaustion are present, there is no room for Mercy. It’s 10:00 pm and Ricardo and I are both resting on the couch, but the evening cost both of us. Tonight, I am crying out for Mercy.

• What are the relationships in your life that trigger your impatience and resentments?

• How is God’s Mercy for their souls different from your behavior toward them?

• Are you tired, resentful and guilty of poor self-care?

• Please take some time to re-center around the grace and Mercy that God has for you, in the midst of your worst moments. Then, watch as Mercy Comes A Runnin’.

Once there was a holy place. evidence of God's embrace
And I can almost see mercy's face pressed against the veil

Looking down with longing eyes, mercy must have realized
That once His blood was sacrificed, freedom would prevail

And as the sky grew dark and the earth began to shake
With justice no longer in the way

Mercy came running like a prisoner set free
Past all my failures to the point of my need
When the sin that I carried was all I could see…
AND WHEN I COULD NOT REACH MERCY,
MERCY CAME A RUNNIN’ TO ME

Once there was a broken heart, way too human from the start
And all the years left it torn apart, hopeless and afraid

Walls I never meant to build, left this prisoner unfulfilled
Freedom called but even still, it seemed so far away

I was bound by the chains from the wages of my sin
Just when I felt like giving in

Mercy came running like a prisoner set free
Past all my failures to the point of my need
When the sin that I carried was all I could see…
AND WHEN I COULD NOT REACH MERCY,
MERCY CAME A RUNNIN’ TO ME

By Phillips, Craig and Dean

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The Least Of These

During the month of March, we are highlighting the virtue of Mercy. God has been dispensing mercy for years and I am grateful to be one of His recipients.

As many of you know, I have a son, Ricardo, who is a special needs child that I adopted from Mexico. July 10 will mark our 18th anniversary of his entry into the US. Ricardo has a genetic disease that was diagnosed in 2004. The diagnosis explains so many unanswered questions that we had about the first 20 years of his life and his physical/mental/emotional challenges. Because of those issues, Ricardo has required more attention, energy, financial resources, patience and love from the many people who have surrounded him.

Two weeks ago, I had to take him to one of those emergency clinics because a two day “cold” turned into a full day of a stomach virus with a fever of 103 degrees. If you know Ricardo, you know that sitting in a hospital waiting room is not his forte. We rolled him into the crowded waiting room in a wheelchair and he was crying and passionately sharing some colorful words in Spanish. Ricardo’s “emotional expression” worked for us that Friday night as we were immediately brought back to an examining room with the nurse and doctor waiting for us. When we were waiting for the results of the blood test, I pulled the wheelchair up close to my chair and he stood up to sit in my lap. As I held my 24 year old son against my chest (don’t worry, he is the size of a twelve year old) I couldn’t stop the tears as I thought back about all of the emergency rooms and hospital rooms that we had been in through the years. The memories that flooded my mind were of the people who sat with us through many dark nights. People who lovingly restrained him when he was at risk of harming himself or others, people who held him through the night praying for God to heal him, people crying with me when the doctors thought the worst and people who had not only given him love but had been loved by him as only Ricardo can love. Through this precious boy, (one of the least by the worlds standards) I have seen MERCY sacrificially and unselfishly poured out covering both of us with comfort and love.

"The King will reply, I tell you the truth,
whatever you did for one of the least of these
brothers of mine, you did for me.” Matthew 25:39-41


Who is “one of the least” in your life?

How would your life be different if you were “one of the least” and needed mercy from other people?



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Your Mercies Are New Every Morning

This is the first of a weekly word of encouragement to all those who have walked through the desert of the lost and broken. We are all at different places in our journey. Some are in the middle of the desert while others taste the refreshing waters of new life. Wherever you are, a word of compassion might be God’s gift of mercy to you this morning.

Your mercies are new every morning.

So let me wake with the dawn.

When the music is through or so it seems to be

Let me sing a new song, old things gone

Every day it's true, You make all Your mercies new

Nichole Nordeman

As most of you know, Grace has been my heart cry for the last 30 years. God’s grace is not just the foundation of redemption, but it is woven into every fabric of my being. This transforming grace will always be the message that I am compelled to share with others on the journey.

Last fall, I found myself in a desert so dark that the light of grace was barely shining. In a million pieces, I boarded an airplane to Colorado Springs, fearful that my life was over. It was there that I found MERCY. (Mercy, defined by Strong’s Bible dictionary, is to help one afflicted or seeking aid.)

A group of caring and kind people attended to me and wrapped me in mercy. Through their extravagant kindness and compassion, I began the slow process of crawling to Jesus. The pain of those days still surface at times, but because of their act of mercy, the grace of God is shining again. The book, “Hinds Feet on High Places,” refers to our traveling companions, Sorrow and Suffering. God sent Mercy to join Sorrow and Suffering and this morning (a day at a time), I am resting in Grace and Peace.

In what ways do you need mercy today?

Who has shown mercy to you?

Is someone in your life crying for mercy?

How can you show mercy to them?

Thanks to the Mercy Center and my angels of mercy: Father Bill, Tim, Donna, Nancy, Margaret, Josie, Russ and my friends who are on the journey with me.


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