Over the past several months, I have experienced agonizing emotional pain and deep, unexplainable joy, intense fear and a peace that went far beyond my understanding. I have seen God’s hand at work in the most unlikely of places and felt His Love carry me through the darkest nights. This is my story. I grew up with a lot of stability in my life through elementary and high school, and even during college. But after graduating from college, I ended up moving three times (all within Sacramento, CA) in less than a year and my family also experienced several transitions and unexpected events. Then in April of 2019, I noticed a small mass that hadn’t been there before. I had no idea what it was and to be honest, I wasn’t all that worried about it at the time. After a little research online, I assumed that it might be a harmless cyst or fibroid. But I was still concerned enough to have it checked out, especially since it seemed to be growing. Over the next few months I had a few appointments which included an examination, tests, and a biopsy. At one point I was told that it could be cancer. I received that phone call just as I was leaving my house to go somewhere, and I distinctly remember my best friend (and housemate at the time) praying with me before I got in my car to leave. I was in shock and once I was alone, tears sprang to my eyes. But in October I met with a surgeon to discuss having the mass removed and he told me that it was probably benign. My fears were allayed for the time being and my surgery was scheduled for October 18th. Meanwhile, over the course of several months, I had begun to sense a strong calling to move to Seattle. After two trips to the city, a bike tour along the Oregon Coast, and much prayer and confirmation, I prepared to head north. Fairly soon after making the decision to move, I got a job with a senior caregiving company and I found a place to live with a wonderful church community. My surgery date coincided closely with my moving day, so I packed up all of my belongings before heading into surgery. The day came and right before my operation, the surgeon came into the room and again reiterated his opinion that the tumor was most likely benign and that I had nothing to worry about. The surgery was fairly minor so two days later, my parents and best friend helped to load up my things and we started to drive to Seattle. Upon our arrival, we were greeted warmly by my new housemates and I soon settled into my room. The first week in Seattle was quite exhilarating – I was meeting many new people every day and getting to know a city that was brand-new to me. But then, just ten days after arriving, I received another phone call. This time the results were conclusive. They revealed an extremely rare type of tumor called an extra-ovarian yolk sac tumor. I had cancer. I descended into panic and shock all over again as the surgeon explained that he was transferring me to a doctor at the University of Washington Medical Center (which happened to be only a mile and a half away from my house). A few weeks later, I was scheduled to meet with my new doctor and discuss the next steps going forward. Just at that time, a dear friend from Sacramento was planning to come to Seattle to visit her stepdaughter. Her stepdaughter just so “happened” to live only two miles from me and my friend just so “happened” to be coming the very week that I would be having my first appointment with my new doctor. In fact, my appointment was on one of the two days that my friend would be in town. Still, I was afraid to ask her to join me for a medical appointment since that wasn’t the purpose of her trip. But at the very moment I was mustering up the courage to ask her, she texted me about an unrelated subject. I then mentioned the appointment and she gladly agreed to accompany me. So off we went, and her prayers and the peace she brought with her were such a gift to me. My new doctor suggested I undergo another surgery, this time a bit more invasive to remove any remaining cancer cells. It sounded like a good plan and I wasn’t too daunted by the idea. However, a week or so later, I received a phone call from my doctor telling me that she had discussed my case with her colleagues and they had agreed that chemotherapy would be the best route given the aggressiveness of this type of cancer. That was one of the hardest days of my cancer journey. Up to that point, I hadn’t experienced any cancer symptoms. In fact, I had felt quite healthy. But I knew in that moment that chemo would make me feel – and look – like a cancer patient. I would be part of a “club” that I had never wanted to qualify for. It was a very emotional day, but then something amazing happened. My aunt was visiting her son and his family who live just south of Seattle and they invited me to join them for dinner. As I drove down to their house and cried out to God, I witnessed the most beautiful sunset. And as I spent the evening with them, I found out how much I needed to be with family just after receiving such difficult news. Most wonderfully of all, I got the chance to connect with my cousin’s oldest daughter who is very artistic and spiritually aware. At one point in our conversation, she pulled out her Bible to share a verse that had been meaningful to her. It was Psalm 23:5 where it says, “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” I had been “hard-core” meditating on that verse just a few days before and it was exactly what I needed to hear. I needed to know that in the midst of the worst news, in the midst of my enemy taunting me with fears, that God was in the very act of spreading out a feast before me – a feast of His Love and goodness. The events that evening were just another way I saw Him taking care of me in the midst of everything going on. We prayed together and I left with a full and grateful heart. As my first day of chemo approached, everything began to accelerate. I needed to get a second opinion, ask questions and obtain information about the treatment regimen, and have them place my port through which they would administer the chemo. The whole week was a whirlwind of phone calls and appointments. Finally, everything was set. I was scheduled to start chemo on December 26th, so I decided to enjoy Christmas Day the best I could and try not to think about what was going to happen the next day. A friend from church graciously invited me to join her and her family for their Christmas dinner and I had a wonderful time getting to know them, enjoying great food, and spending time at their place which was situated in a rural area outside of Seattle. The next day, with my backpack full of things to do and snacks to eat in case the hospital food didn’t settle well with me, I headed to my first day of chemo. Just two days before, I had met the cancer support group facilitator from church and he had offered to take me to the hospital and check in on me. He and his wife became (and still are) two of my most faithful supporters and advocates through this entire journey. He is a chaplain and retired oncologist and she, as a breast cancer survivor, has experienced chemo and radiation. On that Thursday morning, he picked me up and then came to check in on me each day I was in the hospital. (The chemo regimen was three days in the hospital during which I received all three chemo drugs, then a return visit to the clinic the following week and the next week after that to receive one of the drugs. This was repeated for a total of three cycles.) I made it through those three days and then went home and immediately to bed. My body handled it pretty well considering everything, but the sleep deprivation and loss of energy was especially difficult. Thankfully I didn’t have too much trouble with nausea after I went home and I was able to eat a regular diet again fairly soon after. The recovery was arduous, however. I don’t really know how to describe the first several days and nights after each round of chemo, but the word “darkness” comes to mind because it felt like I was in a tunnel wondering if I would ever see the light of day. It was a spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical experience and I often felt alone in it. However, I had an amazing community - actually *two* communities (or rather two families). One was in Seattle; the other was in Sacramento. I was just getting to know my new friends in Seattle and had only met my housemates over video call before I moved, but they surrounded me with such love and support. My housemates accompanied me to appointments, drove me to and from the hospital during chemo, prayed for me, and showed their support in many other ways. People from the church (even people who hadn’t met me yet) filled in for various needs and one friend who I had barely gotten to know, not only took me to my port placement appointment, but also went out of her way to bring me lemons and honey when I was sick during the last round of chemo. Meanwhile, my family members and friends in Sacramento prayed for me, checked in on me through phone calls and texts, and sent me multiple care packages and numerous encouraging, beautiful cards. (Every time I went for chemo, I would take a few cards with me to set up on my little hospital table. The color, beauty, and encouraging words were a tremendous help in sustaining me during those difficult days.) Furthermore, a dear friend set up a GoFundMe page and I received many, many donations which kept me afloat financially during those months and helped to pay for my medical bills, rent, and groceries. I was able to work intermittently between chemo rounds and my senior caregiving company went above and beyond what I ever would have expected from a company. They gladly allowed me to take off work whenever I needed to and constantly expressed their support and encouragement as I went through chemo. One day, after I had finished my regimen, I went on a walk and was surprised to see the CEO of the company pull up beside me. He had just stopped by my house to drop off a huge, gorgeous bouquet of flowers from the whole staff. It made my day. One of the harder side effects from chemo was losing my hair. I had usually worn my hair long, at least halfway down my back, but soon it started falling out in clumps. It was painful, even agonizing, to see such harsh consequences to my body from the drugs that were being pumped into it. I got my head shaved (which was actually a relief after seeing my hair fall out) and I started to wear hats and scarves. A friend from church gave me a bag of scarves and I had fun trying a whole new fashion style. Hair loss was yet another sorrow due to cancer, but it was made easier by a bit of beauty. During the third and last round of chemo, I got sick with a respiratory illness and spent the majority of two weeks trying to recover. My energy level was the lowest it had ever been and with a compromised immune system, my body struggled to recuperate. I eventually received a blood transfusion that helped a great deal. My energy gradually returned and I began (somewhat cautiously) to celebrate being finished with chemo. Meanwhile, the coronavirus came to the Seattle area and so after two weeks of returning to church and social events, I again had to quarantine myself, only going out for work and medical appointments. Around that time, I received inconclusive results from a PET scan. It showed a mass that was either post-surgery tissue still healing...or more cancer. My doctor advised keeping a close eye on it, but after another week or two, I was pretty certain that the mass was growing and that another tumor had appeared in the same area. I asked for a biopsy which my doctor readily agreed to and sure enough, the biopsy tested positive for cancer and the “AFP” blood test (which they use to check for this type of cancer) was at 83 – when the normal range is from 0 to 8.5. I was devastated. I had heard that the type of chemo I had initially received was highly effective, with a 90-95% success rate. And now this. My doctor told me that the next step would be to receive more chemo, this time over three to six months. Once our conversation was over, I hung up the phone and cried. But again, God’s love came through for me that day. One of my housemates dropped off some flowers and an encouraging card. Another friend had chocolate delivered to me and prayed with me that evening. Two of my closest friends from Sacramento prayed with me over the phone. My parents prayed and supported me from Nevada. Another housemate gave me a long, much needed hug and held me as she spoke the truth over me, reminding me of God’s goodness through suffering and hardship. I was able to visit my oncologist friend and his wife. They hugged me, sat with me as I cried, prayed with me, and listened as I poured out my heart. These are the things that carried me through that hard, hard day. After beginning to accept the news, I turned my attention towards the next steps of treatment. I received more information about the chemo options from Seattle Children’s Hospital and started to consider whether I should stay in Seattle or move to my parents’ house since I would be receiving more intensive treatment. Before I moved, I needed to have another surgery to remove the new tumors, so I repeated what I had done when I had moved to Seattle: packed up all my belongings, had the surgery, and then moved just a few days later. This surgery was a bit more invasive and while recovering in the hospital, I also had my port removed and a Hickman catheter placed in anticipation of more chemo and the possibility of stem cell transplants. My housemates and church community surprised me with an amazing send-off and then my parents and best friend (yes, that same friend who helped me move up to Seattle) packed up my things and we headed south. I had a few weeks to get settled in, meet my new doctor, and set everything up to start treatment again. This time I would receive three chemo drugs over five consecutive days in the hospital. As I started the new regimen, my mind was troubled. I had endured the regimen in Seattle with an expectation that it was likely to succeed in beating the cancer, but clearly it had not and now I felt like this new regimen was just a shot in the dark, guesswork at best. However, I went through with it. The first few days actually went quite smoothly, but by the fourth day I was heavily sleep-deprived and struggling with nausea. By the time I went home, my body was almost completely depleted of strength and energy. I spent the next several days gradually recovering, but then had a slight setback when my immune booster shot gave me fever and chills. Later in the week, I experienced three nights of major spiritual growth. On the first night, I lay awake worrying for several hours. Among other matters, I was perplexed about making a decision regarding my treatment plan. A stem cell transplant doctor in Sacramento had advised me to undergo high-dose chemo and two stem cell transplants which would require weeks of staying in or near the hospital, plus months of recovery and monitoring for any infections or illnesses. During the second night, I felt God’s presence in my room and received His peace. I was reassured that His love would carry me through whatever was ahead, and I began to regain hope. Finally during the third night, I experienced intense spiritual warfare. I felt a dark, sinister presence in my room and a few moments later, I felt like I was being choked. But as I began to speak the name of Jesus, the evil spirit left me and I realized in that moment that I truly do have authority over darkness by the power of Jesus’ name. After those nights, it gradually became clear that God was teaching me to live as an overcomer in every area of my life – spiritually as well as mentally, emotionally, and physically. Around that time, I began to notice some swelling around my surgery site, so I set up an appointment on the following Monday to meet with a gynecologist to find out what was going on. That day turned out to be extraordinary. I saw God’s hand at work in every part of it and I was full of joy and hope in the midst of hectic phone calls, my second head shaving, and an appointment with a doctor who had a rather intense personality. My parents and I enjoyed our time together and were even laughing at various silly things throughout the day. The next morning I woke up at about 4 or 4:30 in the morning and felt inspired to pray for physical healing. I prayed as an overcomer, specifically that my immune system and white blood cells would be strong enough to overcome the cancer and all the side effects of chemo. After an hour or so of praying, I went back to bed for a few hours. As soon as I woke up and started to get out of bed, I felt that something had changed. I found myself jumping out of bed and then skipping into the kitchen where I found my mom. I burst out to her, “I have so much energy right now!” And for the next three and a half hours we ended up talking and praying about healing as well as many other things that God was doing. Just the week before, I had been sleeping two to five hours each day (as well as during the night), trying to recover from chemo, but that day I took a thirty-minute nap and felt fine the whole day. Ever since then, I have experienced an abundance of energy and health, and I have been hiking, biking, backpacking, sailing, playing music again, and doing many other things that I haven’t been able to do throughout the past several months. My PET and CT scans as well as my blood tests did not show any cancer, and so after much prayer and consideration, I decided to stop chemo until God led me in a different direction. I figured that if cancer showed up in my body again, then I would make a decision about treatment at that point. I didn’t want to live in the fear of “what-ifs”: What if the cancer returned eventually? What if it spread to another part of my body? What if there were still a few more cancer cells that just weren’t showing up in the test results? I could allow these fears to control me or I could choose to live in the present and follow God wherever I sensed He was leading me. And He seemed to be leading me into a season of healing and restoration. Meanwhile, my doctors were not so happy about my decision. Understandably they were concerned that there might be a recurrence given that I had already had a recurrence just a couple of months before. But I had received so much peace and confirmation and I realized that I was the one that needed to make the decision and stand by it. And so I had two lengthy conversations – one with my primary oncologist and one with the gynecologist that I had connected with regarding the swelling at my surgery site (which, by the way, disappeared that morning while I had been praying). My primary oncologist voiced his concerns but supported me in making my own decision; however, the gynecologist vehemently insisted that I continue treatment and I had to stand my ground. By the grace of God, I was able to remain firm in my decision and not only that, but I also felt peace in the midst of that appointment as I realized that nothing had changed: this was still a decision between me and God regarding my health and He would continue to take care of me no matter what. My mom and I got out of that appointment and as we recovered (it was quite an intense appointment), I started thinking out loud, “Okay, let’s talk about the worst-case scenario, let’s go there. What if I stop treatment and the cancer comes back? And what if it then spreads all over my body and I die from it?” And in that moment, I knew for certain that God had done a great work in me because instead of feeling afraid, I felt hope. I knew that my hope was and always would be in Jesus Christ. Neither life nor death could take that from me. Throughout the next few weeks, I shared the good news of my healing with friends and family members, and got to witness my story ignite excitement and joy in other people. It was like lighting sparklers on the Fourth of July – passing the light from one person to another. As I look back, I am amazed by this wondrous journey God has brought me through. I have walked through a valley of trouble and seen God turn it into a doorway of hope (Hosea 2:15), and I have also come out into a broad, open place (Psalm 18:19) and danced with Him upon the hills of restoration and healing. He is so, so good to me. And the story continues… Since then, I have had to return to the hospital because of an infection in my Hickman catheter. It can be a serious problem especially because it is a central line and connected to a major vein that goes directly to my heart. I ended up spending three days in the hospital, and again I saw God do amazing things. He turned my mindset around from one of complaining to one of praise and thanksgiving. I had so much joy by the end of those three days! And my blood test results for the infection came back negative on the third day, allowing me to return home with only a week’s worth of oral antibiotics. The doctors also ended up removing my catheter, so for the first time in several months, I do not have any foreign objects in my body! And that “AFP” blood test? As of today, August 4th, 2020, it has gone down to 3. Cancer may or may not be a part of my life in the future. But one thing I know for certain: God’s Love will always be for me and with me – throughout my life here on earth and for the rest of Eternity. “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.” -Lamentations 3:22-23 |
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I felt my heart beat faster and faster.
I began to doubt my decision. What if I was just making this choice on a whim? What if this doctor - with 30 years of experience, medical school, and scores of cases under his belt - knew more than I did about my health and body? And here I was making a foolish, rash decision which I would later come to regret...which might even cost me my life? But as I sat there in the exam room, silently praying and desperately trying to find some peace amidst the chaos, three simple words appeared in my mind: "Nothing has changed." All of a sudden, it became clear to me: this doctor, at least the seventh I had seen (I've lost track now), wasn't telling me anything new. I had heard it all before - the possible worst-case scenarios, the concerns that my cancer would recur...it was all familiar. But even on a deeper level, nothing had changed. At every crossroads - both the big decisions and the small, daily choices - the core and heart of the issue was the same. Either to follow Jesus or not. I only needed to lean in and listen for His voice, trusting that because He loves me He will take care of me every step of the way. As I pondered whether or not to continue chemotherapy, I realized that I could either live my life in "what-ifs" (What if the cancer came back? What if it spread? What if I still had cancer but it just wasn't showing up in my scans and tests?) or I could live my life in the present and base my decisions on what God had shown me and confirmed to me over and over again, believing that He would always walk beside me and take care of me, even redeeming my mistakes for His great glory and my ultimate good. Could I truly believe in His goodness? When my mom and I walked out of that appointment, we both had to recover. It had been an emotionally draining experience, but when I look back at it, I am grateful. The doctor's intensity drove me to a place of facing the prospect of the worst-case scenario: dying from a recurrence of cancer. But as my mom and I sat in the car and talked, I found that I didn't feel afraid...I just couldn't feel afraid. I actually felt free. Free from fear because of the hope that I have in Christ. Whether I lived or died, I knew in that moment that He would always take care of me. Now we face (and have been facing throughout this year), another "c" word. Not cancer, but co-vid. In this blog post, I would like to probe a little deeper, ask some questions, and pose some thoughts. What I am writing may be controversial, even downright hard to read, but please know that my only intention is to inspire deeper thought and call us to action born out of love and wisdom. After all, I believe that the goal is not just to know what we should or should not do in these times, but to be people who think, make decisions, and live in wisdom, thoughtfulness, and in the assurance of God's love for us. I have had a unique experience with co-vid and with the restrictions meant to help prevent its spread. My perspective has changed and deepened over time as I've given it careful thought and discernment. I was still living in Seattle when we first heard the news that there had been an outbreak of co-vid at a senior center in Kirkland (a suburb east of Seattle). At the time, I was just coming out of my third round of chemo and I enjoyed a whopping two weeks of freedom (insert sarcastic tone here ;)) before we were told to quarantine ourselves and stay at home as much as possible. My immune system was compromised from chemo, plus I was working as a senior caregiver in people's homes, so I took the quarantine very seriously. I stayed at home unless I was going to work or to a doctor's appointment. I also washed my hands frequently and diligently cleaned shared surfaces in our house. I often found myself sinking into fear - either afraid that I would contract the virus myself or that I would unknowingly spread it to one of my clients. Between the fear of cancer and the fear of co-vid, there were times I felt anxious and in a state of near panic. However, as more information came to the surface and it gradually became clear to me that no one knows everything about this virus or how it spreads, I started becoming more concerned about the freedoms we are giving up so easily and quickly. Now I want to stop for a moment and make it clear what I am saying and what I am not saying. I am *not* saying that the virus is fake or that it isn't serious or life-threatening for some people. It is a health concern. (In fact, I may have had a case of co-vid back in February. During my last round of chemo in Seattle, I got sick with a respiratory illness for three or four weeks and I had to spend almost two weeks mainly in bed, trying to recover. It was a difficult time and as my body tried to heal from the side effects of chemo as well as fight whatever sickness I had, I became depleted of most my energy and strength. Thankfully, I recovered with some help from a blood transfusion, and was able to go back to work and eventually to regular life.) But back to my question: What have we missed in the last several months as we all have been trying to do our part in preventing the spread of this illness? (And I would argue that we should carefully consider these losses.)
All of this begs the question: if we are this concerned about how long we live, then should we not be at least that concerned about how (quality of life) and why (the reason that) we are living our lives? None of us know how long our lives will last. We could die from co-vid. We could die from a car accident. We could die from cancer. We could die from a medical procedure gone wrong. Any time, any place, anyone. Perhaps it sounds morbid to think that way...but if we are so afraid of death, should we not try to think about the core issues that co-vid has helped bring to the surface? Please hear me out. I don't advocate for carelessness - either in considering our own health and well-being or the health and well-being of others. But I also don't advocate for decisions made out of fear. Believe me, I have made a LOT of decisions out of fear...and those are the decisions I most regret. Fear often drives us to run, and as we run, we trample upon what matters the most. Fear is also a life or death issue. We might not see the physical effects of fear, but they are there...and they may have eternal consequences. I believe that there is a "sweet spot" where we can live neither in carelessness nor in fear. Think about it: an aggressive driver is a dangerous driver...but a nervous, timid driver can cause just as much damage. We are to be neither. We are called and equipped to be calm, yet alert. Wise and caring. How is it possible for us to live this way? Not in our own human effort. I cannot look to myself for guidance. I fall into fear or denial far too easily. The only way - and I am convinced of this - is God. "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." Not the fear of coronavirus. Not the fear of cancer. Not the fear of death. No...only fear of Him. Fear of Him is the beginning of wisdom because He is the only good, true, trustworthy, strong, loving Thing who is worthy of all our worship. And He gives us "not a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." (2 Timothy 1:7) So I'm not going to tell you (at least not in this blog post) what I think about wearing or not wearing a mask...what I think about social distancing, going to church or not going to church, etc. That's for you to decide. We all have different situations - the status of our immune systems are different, the people we care for have different health situations, and the list goes on. I really don't want to tell you to do - or not do - anything. Your decisions are between you and God, and in my opinion, we've all been bossed around by way too many people who do not have the authority to make these decisions for us. I simply want to invite you to think deeper and ask questions...being open to wherever the truth may lead you. I'd like to leave off with a few questions that may help us navigate through whatever crises we find ourselves facing. Perhaps you were nodding your head as you read this blog post...or perhaps you were shaking your head... Either way, I invite you to carefully and thoughtfully wrestle with these questions - which none of us can answer in a day, perhaps not even in a lifetime. ~What is life about? ~What is most important to you? ~What do you consider your greatest accomplishment in life? ~What kind of legacy do you want to leave? ~What kind of life are you living right now? ~What sort of story are you writing with your life? ~Who do you want to become? And for those who are looking for a little hope and peace today...let me leave you with this one truth: He is still God and we are still His beloved children. Nothing has changed. "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear." -1 John 4:18a Usually on a Saturday morning I would walk to a nearby coffee shop to stop and pause, reflect, and cease my striving just to be with Him. But on this morning, with all the restaurants and coffee shops closed except for takeout, I found myself sitting in my car next to a marina where I could look out on sailboat masts and an overcast sky gradually giving way to sunlight and patches of blue.
There I poured out my heart before God. I told Him in all honesty what I was feeling - tired, weak, and insufficient - and where I had been that week - sometimes clinging onto Him for dear life, other times feeling like I was slowly letting go of the last shards of my hope in Him. I scribbled out my fears and my prayers. I got absolutely real and honest with Him, maybe more than I ever have before. I told Him, "You've given me strength for the battle, peace when it makes no sense, songs and verses just when I needed them..but I keep telling You - with my cries and shouts, prayers, thoughts, wishes, hopes, desires - that all I want is for this battle to be over. How long until I lose all will to fight?" And then I sank to that lowest, deepest place. That place I've been afraid to go. No disguises, no pretenses, no wrapping it up and tying it with a pretty little bow. No... I poured it all out - the desperation and the fears. I told Him what I've felt on and off in my heart these past several days but have been too afraid to voice: that if the road ahead included that - that particular suffering again...I wasn't sure I wanted to keep walking with Him. The thought of giving up on Him did pass through my mind even as I didn't know what it would look like for me if I did. I had been through the suffering once. And I had seen His Love and provision for me in more ways than I could count. But to go through it again, with all its mental, emotional, spiritual, physical pain? To experience that dark night again? To circle back around to the same "setback"? No, God. Just don't let that happen. How. could. You. But even as I sat in my car crying (I guess it was for the best I wasn't sitting in a coffee shop), the unexpected happened. His Love broke through. I saw Him in that moment looking straight into the wretched, horrible darkness of my heart...and loving me anyway. The floodgates opened. The light broke through. And suddenly I found myself able to choose what I couldn't before: surrender...hope...openness towards Him. Face-to-face with His Love, how could I choose any other way except the one with Him? He made it crystal clear, what He had been revealing to me layer after layer through the last weeks and months, even years: Because of my unbelief in His Love for me, I had vainly tried to grasp for control and had lived like an orphan lacking the care of a good and trustworthy father. This in turn led me down a path of constant worry and hopelessness about my future as I looked to myself instead of to Him for the security, assurance, provision, and love that I had been created to receive. But, by His grace and work in my heart, I could again choose hope, saying with the psalmist David: "I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living!" (Psalm 27:13) This is where my clenched fists open up to become hands lifted in awe and worship and praise...hands laid open in quiet, humble surrender. This is where my walls fall down and become a bridge between Him and me. This is where my heart of stone becomes a heart of flesh, waiting for and anticipating all the good things He wants to bring my way. Even as I turned towards Him in that moment, I realized that my "great" constancy and faithfulness to Him was not to thank for this decision to repent. No, it was the culmination of a thousand grace-filled moments...circumstances that had broken me and my framework for life down piece by piece...answered prayers of friends and family members who had asked on my behalf for hope and for the gift of a soft heart...and above all, the stunning wonder of coming face-to-face with God's undeniable, unrelenting Love for me. I see it so clearly now: Hope is the way forward for me. Not wishful thinking. Not just "trying harder." No...true hope that's built on the sure foundation of His Love, His nature, His promises, His goodness, His character, His faithfulness. It's here I stand by the grace of God...praying, "Keep me, Lord. Keep me...don't let me go." And I can believe that He will keep me...for His mercies are new every morning. Great is His faithfulness. What is it like? What are you feeling?
I don't know how to make sense of this. I just don't. I've actually told God that more than once. This entire experience has been - still is - beyond me. I have nothing to compare it to in my life. No way to measure it, put it in a box, and shuffle it away. Or even a way to categorize it. It's in a league all its own. I can't understand it, control it, or explain it. It just is. And right now, it would seem to me and everyone around me that this is the time to celebrate. Only one more visit to the clinic! Yay me! But how can you celebrate when the fire has been put out but all around you lay the charred remains of your house? How do you clap and shout when you've been whittled down and carved out like a tree after the storm has passed? It's been almost nine weeks. Only nine weeks. Many people go through months of this, even years. Such a short space of time. ...and yet, how could so much be stripped away in such a short amount of time? Losses, losses, losses. Loss after loss after loss. All around me, on me, in me...losses. I started to sing along to a song tonight...and then unexpectedly found myself beginning to cry. Why? Because I suddenly realized how very few times I've sung in the past several weeks. Yes, I've listened to so many good, truth-filled songs throughout this whole experience...but sung along like I used to before? I haven't had the strength or the energy. I've been in survival mode. "Little" things like this are an expression, even an extension, of me. Who am I apart from music? Who am I when I hardly have the strength to get out of bed...or to carry on a conversation...or do the things I used to do? Who am I when I can't work or contribute anything to the people around me? Who am I without hair? Who am I when I've been whittled down and carved out and all around me lay the charred remains of the kind of life I thought I'd live? Who am I, God? In time, in time, in time. In time, I'll find out. In time, I'll heal. In, time, I'll be made new. For now...this is a time to mourn. So I will mourn well...believing that in time, I will rejoice greatly. A thousand times yes...
A thousand more times "yes"... And I will say it again...yes to You. For You, with Your arms outstretched on that cross, said yes to me. All of You...Your whole self. There was no holding back. No, none at all. Your Love - for me - was too great for You to hold anything, ANYTHING back...and so You gave Yourself, wholly, entirely, to me. Amidst the scoffing, under the scourging...amidst the laughter, with the cursing, yelling, and screaming for Your blood to be spilled...with fingers pointed...at You...You died for me. For us all. Oh Lord, how can this be? Yet somehow, I find it all too easy to complain again...or worry yet again. As if this is the thing that gives me the right to. As if this is the one thing too many or the one thing too big...for me to offer up my praise to You - right here, right now. True enough, when I heard the word "cancer" coming from the other end of the line...and then again after I had moved two states away from my home and my family...I'm not about to blame myself from feeling deep parts of me sway and crumble as the tears started to rise and the fears began to rear their ugly heads... ...but isn't Your comfort and peace for times such as these? Didn't You promise to be with me here - yes, here in the shadow of death? Death of my dreams of a safe and comfortable life... Death of any old notion that anything - including my own health - was within my control... And as I glance down at this beautiful quilt I'm sitting on, made by my beautiful mother, I see a square of fabric stitched into it...lilies-of-the-valley pure white against a dark blue background... And I'm reminded again: yes, beauty is also found in the valley. Right here, right now. Your beauty is found here. The breathtaking beauty of redemption. The beauty of beholding life as so very precious and beautiful and valuable...never meant to be wasted. The beauty of loved ones growing closer, not despite suffering, but through it. The beauty of You here...reaching in, leaning down, whispering, "I. love. you." How could I have ever imagined that this would be the very place where You would intervene and show me the beauty of Your heart? How could I have ever expected that this (and all those other hard times too) would be the place where my confidence in You would grow, where my identity would finally rest in You secure? How could I have ever known that here, yes here, my joy would rise...that my strength and praise and worship of You would grow brighter, deeper, stronger...all the more? For You, Lord...oh yes, You Lord...are the same yesterday, today, and forever. And I will rise on eagles' wings. And I will not be afraid - I will fear no evil for You are with me. I will run and not be weary. I will walk and not faint. And in the midst of good news and bad...in the midst of news perhaps nobody wants...in the midst of diagnoses and tests...I will find You. I will learn to run to You. Whether it be with tears on my face or fears raging all around me...I'll run to You. Whether it be on bright, sunny days or dark, rainy days...I will come to You. And I will thank You, Lord. For there is so, so much to be grateful for...because You are just that good to me. And I am learning in time that there are no prescribed rules to this, no guidebooks that tell me, or any of us, how to walk a road like this. But this I do know: to love You and to love people - that is Life. So I'll get up each and every day - that You have so graciously given to me - to again gaze into the Light of Your Love for me...so that my heart can reflect that Love back to You and to every person I meet. Perhaps even now it seems like a lofty idea to live this...even a "pie in the sky" ideal...but Lord, You are faithful and true and You will do this - in me and for me and through me. Yes, Lord. Yes, Lord. Yes, Lord. You are good to me. You are good to me. You are so, SO good to me. I love You, Lord. Amen. I'm tired of all the losses.
I'm ready for the Day when all things will be made right again and there will be only gains. When there will be no more separation - no miles or missteps between us...only Love: more and more Love. When there will be no more disintegration of relationships - only wholeness, only pure restoration. I long for a Day when words are used to do what they were always meant to do: to build up and not tear down...or attack or slander or gossip. When no girl or woman has to feel afraid to walk down a street by herself. When all this striving and struggle and mere survival is over...and we can finally. just. rest. I long for the Day when we can all just be together. Forever just praising Him - with no denominational lines or divisions of any kind between us...we won't be pointing fingers at each other because we'll be too busy lifting our hands up in worship of Him. ...a Day when we can hold our loved ones close...simply because we love them and not because we're afraid that they might be gone too soon. I long for this Day. When every tear will be wiped away...and we will be able to see clearly and fully for the very first time that none of our pain was ever in vain. That it too was spun into a Glory-story that can never be erased, that we would in fact never want to be rewritten a different way...because we can finally see on that Day how the One behind it all - behind all of our stories - was spinning it into a greater Story than we could have ever, ever imagined for ourselves. Don't you too want this kind of Day to come? Aren't you longing along with me? How can we possibly hope...when there is still so much pain in this world and every step forward seems to also mean another step forward into seeing yet more brokenness and sadness all around us and in our own lives too? I don't have answers, but I do know this: I must worship. But how can one worship here and now? But how can we not? If we are to offer something different, something other than this seemingly all-consuming darkness that fills our world...how can we unless we gaze into His face and His nature and call it good? How can we offer light unless we gaze into the Light and let our faces become radiant with His glory? ("Those who look to Him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed" - Psalm 34:5) And I admit - I find it hard most days and I wish it wasn't such a struggle...but it is, just as painful as extracting teeth or as arduous a process as when a seed grows and fights its way to the surface until it eventually finds the light...because there are these lies entrenched deep within me that rear their ugly heads in adversity, that say "God isn't good, at least not to me and because of x, y, or z (or when all of them happen together at once), I can't praise Him, He doesn't deserve it, in fact He must be trying to play some dirty trick on me..." And yet...there's this: the image of a suffering Christ - the perfect Son of God - hanging on the cross for me, for my sake, in my place...and in light of this, can I possibly dare to claim that He doesn't deserve all of my praise and worship and honor and everything else...or that I deserve a "better" life than this?? No. Certainly I can scream and cry and wail and ask the why questions (why me? why now? why this?)...but never do I hold any right or entitlement to raise my fist against Heaven, against the One who made me, created me, and saved me when I was dead in my sins. I have, after all, seen Him do it a million times - how He has raised me up in the darkest times, how He has kept me upright and walking, even dancing, when I had no strength of my own, how He has kept me close and redeemed my pain in ways unimaginable to me at the time, how He has been my One and Only Constant Keeper and never left my side, no, not once...and I will see Him do it again. Not because I can...but because He will. And this is His will: that I might see His Love and goodness - both in the pleasant times and the hard, in the healing and in the wrestling, in the change and in the fruit of that change, in the dry seasons and those that are filled with endless wells of cleanest, freshest water...yes, I will see Him still. I will see Him again...and again...and again. And that Day will come...as sure as the sun rises in the morning. For He has promised, and He who promises is faithful. His word will never return void. One Day, on that Day, we will all be together and all of this trouble will be as a passing dream...for He will be with us - we will be standing with Him face-to-face: our Reality, the Truth, our Everything. Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” And He who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” -Revelation 21:1-5 I think now is the time to write again. It's been awhile since I've written a blog post...there's been so much change and growth in my life that I hardly know where to begin. But I guess giving a glimpse into my move to Seattle would be a start. It's been a bumpy road and though it might seem like this decision was made quickly, there have been SO many steps that have led me to this place...so many ups and downs, so many crossroads that God has brought me to, where He has asked me, "Will you let go of ____ to receive more of Me? Am I worth it to you?" And I confess that my answer has more often than not been "no." My stubbornness and unwillingness to go where He calls me and give up what He asks me to let go of has been the greatest hindrance to growing closer in my relationship with Him. But He is so, so good and kind to me! So faithful, so generous, so gracious and full of mercy and love for me. It just blows my mind.
Late spring and summer of this year was a time of rebuilding and restoration for my identity in Christ. For years and years I had believed a few core lies about myself and only dealt with the symptoms of those lies. The patterns and strongholds of the enemy had become so ingrained in me that I identified with them instead of with my true identity much more deeply than I had realized. Hiding, avoiding, and running away had become my coping mechanisms and I just couldn't imagine a life outside of that. But in a few short months, God began showing me the truth about who I am as His new creation in Christ. I am still learning to live out that truth, but I can already see that I am operating from a whole new place now. In mid-July, my friend and I biked down the Oregon coast. Along with all the ups and downs involved with bike touring, I learned something about myself: that I am an explorer. I enjoy exploring new places, new friendships, new cultures, new ideas, etc. I realized that I had listened to the voice of fear for so long that I had believed staying and living in one place was all I ever wanted or could handle. Then around mid-August, I went to Seattle for a set of trainings with an organization that uses the arts in healing for trauma victims. I was all excited about what I would learn and possible connections and ideas I would return with, but then God did an extraordinary work in me. To be honest, it didn't feel extraordinary at the time...it just felt hard. During that five days, He was opening my heart and challenging me to love people, specifically the people of Seattle. By the time, I flew back to Sacramento, I felt a deep burden and call upon my heart to move there. No details about jobs, an internship, schooling or education...just this one call: to go to a new place in order to learn how to love people on a deeper level. I was asked the other day how this decision was confirmed. As I look back, I think of conversations with other people, pictures and words that have come to mind, a sermon that just "happened" to be all about Jesus calling His disciples and in which the pastor just "happened" to mention his hometown of Seattle...but more than all of this, I have felt a deep assurance and confidence that this is the next step for me to continue pursuing God and that if I refused to take this step, I would never know what I had missed. I would always be left wondering what He would have done in and through me if I had simply gone and trusted Him. It is hard for me. There has been more than one day...sheesh, more than one week when I have wanted to drag my feet or even call the whole thing off. I have come face-to-face with fear: will I make enough to live there? How can I get everything done before my move date? What about the loneliness and homesickness? I have also felt deep, deep sorrow. It is so hard to leave the people I know and love here in Sacramento. Goodbyes are hard. And yes, there's Skype and Whatsapp and Facebook and all the rest...but it certainly isn't the same as being in someone's very presence and I know that from now on, things will never be the same. The place that I've called "home" all of my life will never be quite the same. And yet...this has made me ache and long more deeply for my heavenly Home...the one that will never pass away, but always abides and waits for me to come. And this season of growth and change makes me ever more grateful for the people that God has placed in my life. I am truly blown away by the love that I have received throughout all of these years, and though I know that that love won't stop and that I'll keep in touch after I move, this is a good moment to pause, to look around and give thanks for the support and encouragement and prayers that I have received from each and every person. To those who have leaned in, encouraged me, and prayed with me through this new season, thank you. It means the world to me. Just to hear the words over and over "I'm so excited for you!" has been like fresh water to my dry and weary heart. I feel like Moses must have felt when Aaron and Hur held up his arms so that Israel could gain victory over Amalek. I am so, so thankful for the community surrounding me, cheering me on and reminding me that I am not alone and I am not, by any means, doing this alone. To wrap this up, I'll end with something that came to me during my quiet time this morning: Sometimes (maybe much of the time) the prayer "help me" must/does also mean "change me." Oftentimes, I can't be helped if I'm not at least willing to be changed in some way. There are certain things that are in the way....certain things that are hindering me from being helped, and though it can be a painful process, You, Lord, must pry those things out of my stubborn fists in order to offer me more of Yourself. Yes, I must give in order to receive. I must give up the lesser - and especially my hard-earned "control" and unwillingness to see what You see, to be something more than I am right now - to receive the Greatest Gift of all: You. More and more of You. Perhaps when I feel like my cries of "Lord, help me!" are just hitting the ceiling and coming back down, I need to ask You, "What are You asking of me right now? Is there anything that I need to give up in order to receive Your help?" And though I may not like the answer, there is nothing that is "too much" for You to ask of me. You who died for me, in my place, who risked and sacrificed it all for someone as unworthy as me...You are worthy of it all. You are worthy of my Everything. No sacrifice, no risk, no calling is too great. And I know that You will bless me in the going out and the coming in. I know that You will be with me the whole entire way. And isn't that enough? Isn't that quite enough for me to know? Isn't Your Love - for me and for all people - enough? Because in the end, this isn't even just about Seattle...it's You calling me into more of Yourself, deeper into Your heart in wonderful and varied ways so that I can see the many facets of who You are...so that I might know You more and invite others to come and see for themselves how great and magnificent and wondrous and amazing and full of Love You are!
Just a rough draft of the idea...please contact me with your thoughts, suggestions, etc. Thank you!!
-Allison Burkhard Shame has been one of my constant companions for as long as I can remember. I've been working through a lot of identity issues lately, and I've realized that my coping mechanism is hiding. And shame is just another way I hide. If it's a way you hide too, then I hope this prayer speaks to you and invites you into freedom....
I have told myself that I am above making mistakes, that I - in my own right - am immune to the disease of sin. I have told myself that I am different than other people, that I am even better than everyone else. I have defined success as never making a mistake, as never ever failing. As living outside and apart from the norm - the daily, natural, normal human experience of brokenness. When I do fail - which is inevitable - I usually take it into my own hands to punish myself. I never invited You in in the first place, I never asked You for Your definition of success, so why would I let You in now? I beat myself up inside because apparently there's no one else to do it...because I've decided that I deserve this (and I've made this all about "deserve"),...because shame is another way I hide. Shame is yet another one of my hiding mechanisms. Truth be told...it scares the living daylights out of me to picture myself standing before You just as I am. Or standing before other people just as I am. How will You look at me? How will they look at me? With disgust? With contempt? With shock...with horror? How will I look at me? Because (truth be told)...grace is a foreign concept to me. Even after all these years of Bible reading and church going and everything else...somehow I still don't get it. If I really believed what I say I believe, I would be humbled by the gravity of my sin...and awed by the weight of Your Love that overwhelms and outdoes all of my sin. Instead I either belittle my sin or punish myself for it, thinking that that will somehow produce the kind of righteousness I'm looking for. It's time to stop seeing me through my eyes...and start seeing me through Your eyes. You are the One who tells me who I am. You are the Voice of truth. The truth is - You are the only One who can make me right with You. But I still show up as if I can rely on myself. I still act like I can earn my own way to Heaven. I still live like You don't love me. I live a lie. I live in pride, I live in my flesh. I live as if Christ's death means nothing to me...as if I don't need it...as if I am exempt from what everyone else needs. And yet I still want all the benefits of a relationship with You. But even here in this place, You find me. You gently pick up the jagged broken pieces of my heart with Your hands - Your beautiful, already scarred hands - and You cradle me in Your arms. You hold me and show me that that I am seen...that I am known....and that I am loved. I can breathe deeply of grace. I can drink deeply - with joy - from the wells of salvation. (Isaiah 12:3) I can finally let go of fear and be released from shame. After all, Your Love is greater. Your Love is uncontrollable. Yes, let this perfectly freeing thought overtake me! I cannot control You. (how could I believe otherwise? and yet, I have...) No matter what I do - or don't do - I cannot change Your mind about me. I can never ever alter Your Love for me. It is perfect and true. Ever-faithful. Everlasting. Faithful to the end. Pure and eternal. Lasting beyond life. Stretching beyond where my eyes can see...stretching beyond my own finite comprehension. Disowning this truth only leads to death and destruction - of us: our relationship and who I actually am. No good can ever come from living a lie. So here I am, Lord. Take and use me. Teach me of Your Love. Open my eyes and set me free. I am Yours. I find that I'm safe and warm in Your loving arms. You see me And know me And love me Through and through https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Y7h6K13z0I This past Monday marked ten years since I fully committed my life to Christ. I could say something cliche like "I've never looked back since" but the thing is, I have. Yet He has been so, so gracious to me. This is a tribute to Him. Thanks be to God.
Let’s just take a step back. Zoom out and look at all these moments turned into minutes...all these minutes turned into hours...all these hours into days...days into weeks...weeks into years. We’re in the double-digits now, aren’t we? Since that night. Oh that wondrous night. I remember it all so clearly. Me not sure I would even go to youth group that night. The big group, the noise...it didn’t really appeal to me. But since she was going, alright, well I guess I’ll go too. But then that song. That song during which You reached down and made me to believe – perhaps for the first time – that this love, Your love was...and still is...really for me. That the cross, the nails, the floggings and beatings...it was all done for my sake. You did it...simply because You loved me. And I remember. Falling to my knees...sobbing...letting those tears roll down my cheeks...because what kind of God does this?! Who could possibly do this for me?? How could anyone?? And I remember. The thunder and lightning. On a night in June, no less! Like the whole heavens were rejoicing for me… For us. Truth is, I didn’t know what I was getting into. I really had NO idea. If I had known...perhaps I would have taken a faltering step back...if I had known all the pain and turmoil...all that it would cost through the years (and I still don’t know what lies ahead of me...oh and sometimes it pains and scares me to imagine what might be up ahead...but You’ll be there for me all the way, right?), I might have just crawled back into the “safe” life I had known...just going to church and doing all the “right” things and at least just measuring up to people’s standards which isn’t actually too hard if you just put up a facade and walk around carefully… But Lord, You know this...it’s been worth it. So incredibly, unimaginably...worth it. Everything that I have experienced thus far...all the pain, all the tears, all the sleepless nights...all the sacrifices, all the costs involved...everything...it’s been all worth it to taste more of You. To just get a greater, deeper look into Your heart for me. I could never have known or imagined that. I could never have had any idea of what I was getting myself into. I can only truly just take one faltering step after another faltering step...towards You. Towards Your everlasting heart of Love. And it’s only by Your grace. By Your grace, You hold me up and make me even able to stand. Let alone take one step after another. And it’s all led to this: To forgiving people who have wronged me. To compassion and kindness for the ones who slander Your Name and turn and seem to attack me. To patience and longsuffering. To giving of myself, to pouring myself out when I don’t even feel like I have anything left to give. To joy in painful circumstances. To hope in despairing circumstances. To peace in stressful and trying circumstances. To courage and to risk. To being able to step out of my comfort zone in ways I never thought I could. To growing – just starting to grow – into the person that I want and need to be. Towards an ETERNITY with You. (Oh that day when I shall finally see Your face!) This, Lord. This is what You’ve called me into. And may it just keep getting better and better than this. Until that day when I shall see You face to face...and all the days ever after when I will live forever in the light of Your presence. |
About me
I have great friends, a great family, and a great God. The joys of my life include children, music, beauty of nature, relationships. I love to read, spend time with the elderly, and express myself through creative arts, including writing. I hope you enjoy my blog! :) "Christ wrecks us, holds us, and rebuilds us; it is the greatest blessing we can ever hope for."
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