Day of My Deliverance

During this intense period there was a word of great comfort sent to me by my brother, a reminder that my deliverance had been decreed. Jon Bloom writes on his blog entry at www.desiringgod.org of October 14, 2011, that God's compassion is purposeful. It reminded me of an encouragement I received from a friend and elder, to remember that "God is not so much interested in us tracing the roots of such events, but rather pursuing the good purpose for which our sovereign God has intended them."

So Jon Bloom in describing the healing of the woman with the infirmity of 18 years writes, "Jesus’ compassion and this woman’s pain also had had a far-reaching purpose. If you, like this woman, discovered that your seemingly meaningless affliction turned out to be infused with meaning beyond what you imagined possible and resulted in joy inexpressible and filled with glory (1 Peter 1:8) for you and a multitude of others, would it be worth it? Sit down and catch your breath. It is. It’s promised to you (2 Corinthians 4:17)."

Is this not what I most longed for? I had known in every moment that this affliction was not meaningless, but rather filled with glory for myself and others. How would God do that? And yes, oh yes, how I yearned to taste of that inexpressible joy of which I presently only hoped for in my groanings and staggerings.

Whether the staggering was from the multitude of burdens I placed upon myself, or whether from the heavy hand of God upon me, or both, I looked with the eyes of my heart upon the path on which I labored to follow close to Jesus. But it was hard going and I realized that I was cumbered along the way and nearly strangling from the weights of my own struggle and sin. I immediately realized this and cut myself free, dropping all the baggage and handing Jesus my necessary pack of burdens which He gladly carried. At times I could see Him and hear Him spiriting me on, infusing me with confidence, reaching out to lift me up when I scrambled up a steep incline, ever intent on leading me to the higher ground. And then I'd find myself again having gathered burdens to myself, bound around my neck, yet more swiftly now, I dropped them and immediately looked up and continued to move toward Him. His voice, his presence, keeping me on the journey, following after Him. Sometimes wearily, sometimes heartily, always persistently.

As my time at the hospital came to a close, and I realized that my cancer treatment must continue for some time, I again looked up and forward to the glad consolation of God's approaching deliverance and fulfillment of His word, the manifestation of His glory and exaltation of my spirit in joy, along with all His saints.

Kent had to leave me at the hospital to return to Colorado to prepare for the move. In a peaceful anguish, after a good word of hope and encouragement from the hospital chaplain, he left me in the care of God and others. My mother hastily joined me there for the last few days as I prepared to make yet another transition. My heart and mind were overwhelmed within me, my body both weary and improved. Holding on to faith. Trusting beyond my understanding.

My deliverance is coming...

Bloom concluded his thoughts with this: "Today you may say with Job, “my complaint is bitter; my hand is heavy on account of my groaning” (Job 23:2). You may say with Moses, “Return, O Lord! How long? Have pity on your servants. . . Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, and for as many years as we have seen evil” (Psalm 90:13-15).

But you need to know that, like this disabled woman, the patient, purposeful, powerful compassion of God in Christ for you is approaching like a relentless torrent. The day of your deliverance is decreed. It will come with a sudden joy. Every adversary will be shamed. Every tear will be wiped away. And the days he will make you glad will drown the days you have seen evil into glorious and happy oblivion (Romans 8:18)."

So Many Things

Arriving at the in-patient facility on a bright, sunny day I was filled with hope and trepidation. With a yielded spirit, I entered the world of cancer treatment, thankful to have Kent near to me as, together, we faced so many unknowns. For fourteen days, I would be immersed in new things, so many things, that even still, as I recall this experience, it is hard to describe this most overwhelming experience, for all the layers of complexity, challenge and blessing it provided to my body, mind and spirit.

So much hinged on the outcome of this period of intense treatment. I was investing every bit of faith, hope and strength. While I kept myself anchored to the hope that is mine eternally in God through Jesus Christ, I was also hopeful that He would use this medical intervention to achieve the purpose of healing.  I wanted to will and to pray that I could walk out of this hospital cancer free. I was yearning to  see God at work, accomplishing His purposes in my life, and hoping that it would be to relieve me clearly and shortly from my distress. But in whatever was ordained, I wanted to keep myself cast upon the breast of Him who loves me more than I can ever comprehend and to remember to look for Him in everything.

And so it began with diagnostics, medical records review and establishment of individual protocols. Due to the over-reactivity of my immune system, the doctors chose the most gentle yet effective treatment options. It began with early mornings but included meal breaks, physician lectures and a few late afternoon opportunities to walk along the ocean boardwalk with Kent, followed by more treatments that would end late in the evenings.

The compassionate nurses and doctors were a blessing, yet navigating the treatment process required diligence. There were difficulties of various kinds, characteristic of a treatment facility such as this. The lengthy schedule, along with the enormity and complexity of the experience, left me bone tired with not much time to think, read, or study, and certainly no time for my intended crochet project. Kent helped me to navigate this, granting me protection and perspective while he listened to me and helped me process all that was happening to me, in me and around me. My prayers were raw, honest, focused, tired.

I was in constant engagement with my fellow patients. We were all having our own deeply isolating experience, battling our own fight, yet sharing in common our human need for a healing touch, for understanding. We ate many of our meals in the common area and I found myself surrounded by palpable suffering and hope. I see them now, in my heart of memory, and my spirit wells up within me with springs of love, sadness, and compassion. During those meals, and in between treatments, we not only shared our own stories, but made inquiries, offered support and empathy, shared information and resources. Some were incredibly generous in spirit, all were courageous, and some perhaps desperate, others angry and bitter, others too weak, too ill. My heart was overwhelmed and I prayed for my new friends, offering encouragement in return for such kindness and inspiration.

The experience also provided opportunity for me to bond with one of the precious nurses. I called them all my ministering angels of mercy. There were so many things: so many words, thoughts, actions, feelings, spiritual words and struggles. During this time, how thankful I am that I was prayed for by so many of you.

It wasn't much like anything I had expected, and yet so much more suitable for the purposes God was working out in my life. I gained new eyes, new insights, which moved me along the way with Him. With all the words of God, the love, the holy and good intention, all the spiritual work running my heart and mind to rivers of truth and healing, I was reminded, firmly and graciously, to lay aside the weight and sins that so easily beset me and run this course with endurance, looking unto Jesus (Hebrews 12:1).

My looking to Jesus continued to revive me and keep me trudging forward on the path, through so many scrub and rocks.

To be continued...