Sitting It Out In Faith.

My daughter-in-law Mary was at Buckingham Palace on Wednesday evening.  She works for the BBC and the reception was for Regional Media in the presence of the King and Queen.   

Next day it was announced that the King has cancelled future appointments due to side-effects from his chemotherapy.  It is not unusual for people to function normally when undergoing some forms of cancer treatment, but the time may come when the weight of these very powerful drugs begins to take its toll.  They may be working well as far as the doctors are concerned but there is a price to be paid.  

Basically, poisons are being introduced into your body to combat the spread of the cancer.  The term ‘chemical warfare’ is not inappropriate.  Todd Billings, mentioned in my previous blog, discovered that the chemotherapy he was given prior to his stem cell transplant was a derivative of mustard gas which was used as a weapon in World War 1. (I should say that I don’t know if this was the chemotherapy used in my stem cell transplant, although something equally powerful would be used.) So, negative side effects are not surprising: nausea, hair loss, deep fatigue, bowel problems, mood swings – the list is long.  At its worst the only option for the patient is to sit it out. 

These days it is common to hear of a high-profile person’s cancer experience, but I can’t recall anyone specifically citing side-effects of chemotherapy as a reason for a withdrawal from work or duty.  This is another advantage in knowing what is going on with the King, not to mention the Princess of Wales.  They have not held back in talking about the bad days which have to be endured if their cancer is to be cured or steered into remission. 

There have been times when my heart sinks when the nurse hooks me up to my chemotherapy and I think of the slow days that lie ahead.  But if we truly wish to connect with Christ in his life, death and resurrection then the worst of times must be gone through as well as the best. 

In Philippians 4: 10-13 Paul meditates on the nature of life, its ups and downs, and says that he has learned to be content in every circumstance and the reason?  ‘I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.’  

It’s not always easy.  As I type I can feel a ‘brain fog’ coming down.  But a big part of faith is believing in the promises.  

Rejoicing in Lament

There is a lot to be said for Springtime.   And poets and other writers have said it far better than I ever could.  There is more light – that’s for certain.  And it’s warmer – at least that’s the theory!  And whatever the weather, through cold, rain, wind and sometimes even snow there is growth.  A walk through our local park these days is a joy.  The crocuses are out in vast array and the daffodils are not only appearing in gardens but for sale in every supermarket.  

Along with Springtime is the season of Lent.  Usually associated in people’s minds with giving something up.  So, smoke less, drink less, eat less.  But in the best of Christian tradition, it is regarded as a time for self-examination and a reaching towards a more Christ centred life, a becoming more like Him.  Some will say that should be a constant aspiration.  I agree.  But sometimes we need reminding of the great purpose God has in our lives and if Lent serves in that purpose, it is to be valued.  If all around us speaks of growth what areas of our lives are blocking our growth towards Christlikeness? 

It's fair to say that a strict observance of the Christian year is something that not everyone in the Reformed tradition has been comfortable with.  Happy to observe Christmas and Easter but let’s leave it at that.  However, in the parish Church in which I was brought up it went beyond that.  Holy Week was observed with a 15-minute service at 7.45 am every morning, an evening service often with a guest preacher, and a 6 am sunrise service on Easter morning.  

Every parish Church in which I trained as a student had Holy Week services, although usually only in the evening.   Glasgow Cathedral where I was Assistant went further with a Three-Hour Devotion on Good Friday.  This took place from 12 noon until 3pm with seven preachers each focussing on one of Jesus’ sayings from the Cross.  There were prayers and hymns between each preaching which enabled people to come and go. 

So, I always look forward to this time of year.  Devotionally I find it helpful to focus on the Cross and what that means to individual believers like me.  Often, I will have a book on the go to help in that direction.  This year it’s a book I have already read twice!  It’s called ‘Rejoicing in Lament’ by J. Todd Billings.  It’s the sub-title that really caught my eye: ‘Wrestling with Incurable Cancer and Life in Christ.’  The incurable cancer Todd suffers from is Multiple Myeloma, and that is what I have been wrestling with for the last 6 years: treatment, stem cell transplant, more treatment until today when I am anticipating a change in treatment to combat an advance in the disease.

It is often said that it’s good to know someone who has been through the same bad experiences as yourself.  But when that bad experience is a rare blood cancer, incurable, the writer still suffering, then it strikes at a deep level.  Todd is coming from a background of studying and teaching theology and brings all of this to address the issues faced by Christians who are going through their worst of times.   

There is a story how I came in touch with Todd’s book, and I regard it as one of the blessings of the past few years.  It’s a book which flows from the heart of a companion: same condition, same treatment, same side-effects.  But he has gone through it all in the faith that however it ends, the life, death and Resurrection of Jesus is the cure for all our suffering.

The season of Lent brings the same encouragement but at a deeper level.  We are assured that however life falls for us we have a Companion, born as one of us, knowing sorrow and suffering, but who has taken all His earthly experience back to heaven, and draws near to us in compassion and hope.