Nothing New

A Perfect Finish

2009-05-04T13:39:00.004-05:00

Four months ago, I was in pathetically poor condition. I could barely stroll around for a mile before getting jello-legs and needing a nap. And hauling Cooper in his carrier further than from the car to the front door was pretty much out of the question. So, for reasons I’m still unsure of, I made running a 5K my first major goal in reconditioning. I ran in the Toad Suck Daze 5K this weekend and since it was a major milestone for me, I’d like to share with you my glorious experience.

It couldn’t have gone any better. The night before the race, Shanda gave me a nice massage – making sure my muscles were loose and I was relaxed for a good night’s rest. In the morning, I discovered that she had done some research on her own about race day diets and she cooked a light breakfast for me with just the right amount of protein and carbohydrates. Cooper laughed and played quietly while Shanda helped Parker and I get our numbers pinned onto our shirts. Tanner gave us big hugs for good luck. Just before leaving for the race, Shanda put her hands gently on the sides of my face and with a kiss told me she how proud she was of me.

Parker and I left for the race and got there in plenty of time to warm up and calm some of our pre-race jitters. The weather was perfect – sunny and 73 degrees with just a slight breeze. Once the race started, Parker and I soon settled into a comfortable pace. I was worried about the crowd at the beginning, but as it turned out they quickly split like the Red Sea before us and we were able to run our own race without any concern for those around us. The cooling breeze was always at our back and there were plenty of community folks lining the streets cheering us on – including one older gentleman in particular who stood at his sidewalk with his dog and encouraged us, “Keep it up! You’re almost there!”

After a while, Parker decided he would run on ahead of me – which was fine. I’m proud of him. I knew he’d finish the race strong and would then be there waiting and cheering for me at the finish line. As I entered the stadium for the final lap, I noticed the bleachers were packed with people, all clapping and encouraging the racers. Craig O’Neill was there as emcee and I could hear him say something over the loudspeakers about a young man and his recent battle with cancer. The crowd all stood to their feet, cheering and yelling as I crossed the finish line. It was amazing! Shanda and the boys were there at the finish line to greet me with big smiles and high fives. We celebrated my accomplishment together and then hung out with a good number of friends who were also there running or watching.

At least that’s sort of how I imagined it would be.

Here’s how it really happened.

I went to bed early the night before while Shanda stayed up and folded laundry. I think maybe we said good night to each other before I fell asleep. In the morning, I slapped some cream cheese on a bagel because I read on the internet somewhere that this was a good breakfast for racers. I believed it, because, you know, it was on the internet. And I drank some PowerAde because they have some cool commercials. Cooper cried in the background while Shanda and I had a small argument about whether or not we should put our numbers on ahead of time. Apparently, those safety pins could do irreparable damage to t-shirts if worn while riding in a car. Parker and I headed to the race. I’m not sure if Tanner knew we left. I think I heard Shanda yell “Good luck” as the front door closed behind us.

The weather was awful. It was raining. Pouring, actually. Parker and I got to the race in plenty of time to get drenched before the race even began. It was a chilly 55 degrees and I was just a little concerned about the lightning overhead. Once the race got started, I couldn’t figure out my pace. I started out too fast and was hurting by about halfway through the race. I was worried about the crowd at the beginning of the race, and as it turned out it was worse than I planned. Parker and I got hemmed in by a group of runners and couldn’t find a good rhythm because we were always trying to avoid collisions. Several of the residential streets were flooded and we had to run in water that was a good 6 inches deep. Nobody was outside to cheer us on except for one old man who stood at his sidewalk only about a quarter of a mile into the race and mocked us, “Keep it up! You’re almost there!” while his dog barked menacingly at us.

After a while, Parker decided he would run on ahead of me – which was fine. I’m proud of him. As I entered the stadium, I noticed that only 5 people were braving the rain and sitting in the bleachers. With half a lap left to go, I tried to finish with a kick and pass the runner in front of me. It turns out that some 60 year old woman had a better kick than me and I never did pass her. I crossed the finish line with absolutely no fanfare or cheering (except for one race official who mustered out a congesgted “way to go” in between his sneezes). Shanda, Tanner, and Cooper did brave the rain. But after they watched Parker cross the finish line they headed to the stadium entrance to watch for me. Unfortunately, I had already entered and they missed seeing me finish. I hunted them down and I think internally they were considering how awesome of a dad and husband I was. We celebrated by drying off and I picked up Sonic drinks and a breakfast burrito while Shanda and the boys headed home.

I’m not saying my experience was miserable. I had a good time, even in the rain. And I enjoyed sharing it all with Parker – who has taken quite a liking to running. I just built up the event to such an extraordinary degree that it was inevitable for the real experience be a little disappointing.

But I’ve done some reflecting the past couple of days. I’ve been reminded how Paul compares the Christian life to a race and I’m sure he would agree that life isn’t always what we expect it to be. Some parts of it can be disappointing. Sometimes we get a thorn in our flesh that God won’t take away. Sometimes we get cancer. Sometimes it rains on race day. But if we consider heaven our “finish line” then we will never be disappointed. No matter how much we build up our expectations of heaven, it is going to be infinitely better than we can imagine. It is impossible to overestimate the gloriousness of heaven. That provides me the strength to keep running.

(Hey, that was kinda fun – blogging again, that is. I think I’ll get the blog up and running again sometime this summer – maybe with a design makeover. Thanks for checking in!)

Moving On

2009-01-28T13:29:00.002-06:00

But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on….

I openly acknowledge that I am taking these verses (Phil. 3:13-14) out of context. They are about salvation and spiritual maturation. But I have taken these words and made them my own as I recover from 6 months of cancer and chemo.

I’m moving on.

Don’t get me wrong – I still have a lot going on related to my cancer. I have weekly visits to do labwork. I’ll be seeing my doctor every two months for thorough checkups. I’ll be getting PET scans and CT scans done frequently. I am still relatively weak and I am in the long process of rebuilding my strength and stamina at the fitness center. My hair is just now coming back in (it looks fuzzy and gray right now). And on top of all that, I am participating in the grand waiting game. My doctor says that if my lymphoma is going to come back, it is likely going to come back in the first year, with a smaller chance in the second year. After two years, I can be pretty confident it’s gone for good. Although two years is not long for most cancer patients, it seems long to me.

But I’m moving on. These issues are no longer central issues of my life – they are peripheral issues. I refuse to let that two year waiting period hang over my head – causing me undue worry and stress. I’m moving on. Cancer and chemo were so much the focus of my existence for 6 months that I am glad to push them to the side now. They no longer get to define who I am. I’ve written about this “identity” conflict several times now and it’s the reason I took a break from blogging, to tell you the truth. I was tired of being the cancer-blogger guy. I’m moving on. If the cancer returns, it returns. But in the meantime, I’ll be living my life as if it’s gone.

So…. While this post has been about me and my cancer, future posts will likely be about other things, if I remember how to write about them. Stay tuned if you are still interested.

Happy New Year!

2009-01-03T09:47:00.003-06:00

I've been home for nearly a week and I haven't checked my blog, email, or facebook in during that whole time. I think it's because I feel like I've closed a chapter in my life and I'm ready to move on. I haven't closed the overall story of my cancer, mind you. I still have a long way to go. I will be seeing the doctor and getting scans about every 2 to 3 months. And my body will need some time to recouperate. (Right now, I experience muscle fatigue and shortness of breath just walking up one flight of stairs.) I may need a transfusion or two and my hickman catheter still needs to come out. But I have definitely closed this chapter of daily doctor's visits and/or hospitalizations and daily struggles to just to survive the cancer and chemotherapy.

Honestly, I feel a little lost as I close this chapter of my life. My schedule of classes at CBC doesn't start for another couple of weeks and I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. I've invested so much energy into my treatment the past 6 months. Despite my efforts (and blog posts like this one), I let my cancer define too much of who I was and now I'm having to redefine myself a bit.

I will be taking a break from blogging for a while - at least until February I think. When I return to blogging, I'm not sure how much will be related to my cancer/treatment/recovery - probably very little. But in this one last post, I must say thank you to all who have read and left encouraging comments. Plenty of others read my blog to stay updated, some of whom I know and others I don't. Many of you prayed for me. A simple thank you on a blog seems woefully inadequate. Please know that I appreciate all of you - much more than I know how to communicate here. At this point, my prognosis looks good. But should I have the unfortunate experience of my cancer returning, I'll need all of you even more.

I remain convinced more than ever that God is good. May you all experience His goodness and have a wonderful 2009!

An Open Letter to My Wife

2008-12-24T23:13:00.004-06:00

Shanda,

Writing a letter like this is much more than just nerve-wracking. It feels impossible. But as I near the end of my treatment, I want to publically (and quite inadequately) express my love and appreciation for what you’ve done for me the past six months.

From the very beginning you have been my rock. When I had my colonoscopy and the doctor told us I had a cancerous tumor, you kindly and calmly explained to me the results several times as my head cleared of the anesthesia and I tried to understand what was happening. As we talked to Dr. Reid about my kind of cancer and what the treatment was going to be like, you asked the important questions and took notes as my head was swimming. In the beginning, you drove me to all my appointments and hospitalizations and stayed with me to be sure I was OK. Toward the end, you let me drive myself or you dropped me off at the curb of the hospital and then let the church choir tease you about it. When I had a scary reaction to the immunotherapy (like crazy shivering and passing out), you held my hand. When I had the worst headache of my life and just couldn’t stand it anymore, you came in the middle of the night and brought me one hot wash cloth after another until we got it under control. When I was in the critical care unit for a ridiculously low heart rate, you were there to reassure me that everything was going to be OK. During my hospitalizations you brought me decent food every chance you had. You gave me my neupogen shots at home when I needed them and flushed my hickman catheter lines. When I felt like I was falling apart, you sat and held me and offered words of encouragement and hope.

You managed our three boys at home without much help from me. You kept them fed, got them off to school, and did all the hard work of raising a newborn. You gave them good experiences during Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas (for all of which I was absent). You were instrumental in Parker accepting Jesus as his Savior. You kept track of our insurance coverage and bills, even when it was exceedingly frustrating. You’ve done precious little grumbling or complaining when my treatment caused you more work and created chaos in our lives. You’ve made many sacrifices the past six months for my sake, some of which I know about and others that I’m sure I don’t. There’s much more to be said, but when it comes down to it, you gave me tremendous strength and you kept our family together.

I couldn’t have survived these past six months without you.

I will do my best to express my gratitude privately and for a long time to come, but right now I want my small, public world of blog readers to know what a wonderful woman I think you are. While you deserve the accolades of a Proverbs 31 woman, I’ve stumbled over my words and offered only a meager statement of appreciation. While you deserve the greatest of rewards, what you’ll end up getting is a trip to Larry’s Pizza.

Thank you, Shanda. There just aren’t enough words to express my love and appreciation for you. I’m sorry I can’t be at home with you and the boys this Christmas, but I’m looking forward to spending many, many more Christmases with you.

I love you more than I can say.

An Open Letter to My Nurses

2008-12-23T17:31:00.002-06:00

To my nurses at Dr. Tsuda’s and Dr. Reid’s offices and to my nurses (& nurse's aides) on the 2nd floor at Conway Regional Medical Center:

Writing a letter like this is a bit nerve-wracking. I’m afraid that just as soon as I get started, I’ll forget someone or something important. But I cannot wrap up my treatment without expressing my gratitude to you all.

With the exception of 2 or 3 weekends, I’ve spent time with you (either at the clinics or at the hospital) every day for the past 6 months. Some of you I’ve gotten to know better than others – but I have enjoyed the company of all of you. As you heard stories of me and my family, you let me get to know you as well. Some of you love your kids and grandkids so much it oozes from you. Some of you almost burned your house down recently. Some of you laugh really loudly. Some of you have mended your marriages. Some of you like cookies and a good energy drink. Some of you are looking for a church to attend. Some of you never miss an episode of Heroes or The Office. Some of you have cool disco shoes and some of you have Batman earrings. Some of you have been oncology nurses for a long time and some of you are just getting started. Some of you have taken care of my milk jugs (you might need to read this post to understand). Some of you enjoy deer hunting with your husbands and some of you really, really love Christmas.

All of you have been both professional and yet personal in your care. Cancer is scary and hospitals are not particularly fun. You all have done an exceptional job in easing my worries, answering my questions, and tending to me through my chemotherapy.

Simply saying “thank you” doesn’t seem enough. But I’m not sure how to elaborate much more. Please know that I am extremely grateful for what you’ve done for me.

May God bless you all richly.

A Hospitally Christmas

2008-12-22T11:22:00.002-06:00

Yes, I know “hospitally” isn’t a real word. My spell checker tells me so. But it looks like that’s the kind of Christmas I’ll have this year.

I was admitted to the hospital yesterday with a fever and I’m getting some much needed platelet transfusions, blood transfusions, and antibiotics. And I’ll likely be here until after Christmas. That makes Shanda and me a little sad, but it’s all going to be OK. Maybe it won’t be so different than being home….

Instead of the boys waking me up at 6:00 am to open presents, the nurses will wake me up at 6:00 am to draw blood and get my vital signs.

And instead of hearing annoying, loud, and beeping toys for Cooper, I’ll hear annoying, loud, and beeping IV pumps by my bedside.

See, just the same as being home.

But as I’ve said before, I’ll willingly spend this Christmas at the hospital if it means I get to spend the next 50 at home.

Today's Headline

2008-12-17T18:53:00.002-06:00

MY CHEMO IS OVER!
MY CHEMO IS OVER!
MY CHEMO IS OVER!

I'm still in the hospital tonight getting a blood transfusion. And I'll likely end up spending some more time in the hospital before and/or during Christmas - getting more blood or platelets or antibiotics or some such.

But today I'm celebrating......

MY CHEMO IS OVER!

The Home Stretch Gets Ugly

2008-12-16T22:13:00.003-06:00

Grumble.

Nothing witty tonight - just an update as I try to knock out these last few days of treatment.

If you read my post on Monday, you know I got a bonus day in the hospital because Shanda and 2 of the boys had some kind of stomach bug. Well, Monday night I spiked a fever here at the hospital. Again, fevers are NEVER good for cancer patients whose immune systems are already taking a pounding. So, I got to stay in the hospital another day. In addition to the fever (that now has gone away), I've had a pretty persistent headache the past two days. That was a bit of a concern for my doctors, so I got to have a consultation with a neurologist and they did a MRI on my brain. (Good news - I have a brain and the MRI looked OK.)

Other people have those kind of headaches regularly. But since I've never really had a two-day headache before, the doctors were a little concerned. I get to have another MRI on my spinal column tomorrow. Then I get to have a spinal tap.

If things go as planned tomorrow and if the next few days go as they have in previous rounds, then here's how my near future looks....

I'll get my LAST - yes my very LAST - spinal tap tomorrow. That will be 16 since this summer and it will mark the end of my chemo treatment. Then after a few days, my white blood cell count will plummet and I'll get sick or run a fever or something and end up back in the hospital again. I'll be in the hospital to get antibiotics and stuff for several days and I'll be cutting it very close to get back out before Christmas. In fact, we are half-way planning on me spending Christmas here at the hospital. We'll just have to see, I guess.

So, I've tied a knot at the end of my rope and I'm hanging on for a little while longer.

Hope Deferred....

2008-12-15T09:47:00.002-06:00

…..makes the heart sick (Proverbs 13:12)
…..makes the heart want to watch more UFC.
…..makes the heart want to eat more Snickers with Almonds.
…..makes the heart want to scream wildly at the top of his lungs and he would except that it would scare the other patients and upset the nurses and they might come running and inject him with Ativan or something to calm him down and if he kept screaming they might call security or try putting him in restraints.

I was scheduled to go home today. BUT, I have a house full of sick people. Two of the boys are just getting over some sort of stomach bug and Shanda just came down with it last night. I was a little concerned about going to a home steeped in germs and/or viruses, so I mentioned it to my doctor this morning. She recommended that I stay in the hospital another day to help avoid getting sick myself.

Did you catch that? Stay in the hospital. To avoid getting sick. That just seems weird.

But I understand. So I get the joy of at least one more day in the hospital. We are just going to play it by ear tomorrow. My last spinal tap is scheduled for Wednesday, so I suppose it is possible they will keep me until that is done. But if it is any longer than that, I’m gonna need the restraints.

How Many Shopping Days ‘Til Christmas?

2008-12-14T08:00:00.001-06:00

Click here - Stupid Cancer

Resolutions

2008-12-13T22:44:00.002-06:00

I am definitely NOT a New Year’s Resolution kind of guy. I don’t like setting myself up for that kind of failure. Plus, it just seems a little cheesy.

But I can’t help being a little reflective these days as my last round of chemo wraps up. I can’t help but think about the kind of life I’ve been living and wonder if any changes need to be made. I dunno – maybe that’s more related to a mid-life crisis than cancer.

(No worries – I have no plans to grow my hair long and buy a red convertible.)

And I have no real plans for major overhauls. But here are a few thoughts I’ve had lately, in no particular order. This isn’t an exhaustive list – I’m still contemplating.

I want to be more generous. Shanda and I have been EXTREMELY blessed by the generosity of others the past 6 months. We’ve had friends and family give, sometimes sacrificially I’m sure. And we’ve had Christians we don’t know from places we barely know give as well. In both cases, we have been reminded of God’s love for us through the love of others. And we have learned much about God’s provision through the generosity of others. I want to be a part of ministering to the real needs of other people like that.

I want to be slightly more spontaneous. Some of the best times I’ve had were born out of spontaneity. Frankly, spontaneity can drive Shanda crazy, so I have to be careful. But I sometimes like getting caught up in the moment and flying by the seat of my pants.

I want to splurge more – on the small things. I’m not a fan of wasting money or spending it frivolously. But I’d like to upgrade to the New York Strip when I go to Outback Steakhouse, you know?

I want to give more hugs. That sounds weird. But I grew up in a very affectionate home and I’m finding this desire to give more people more hugs these days. Maybe that’s just because I’m wrapping up chemo and I’m anticipating saying “good-bye” or “thank-you” to a good many people – health care providers and others. So if you find yourself getting a big hug from me anytime soon and it weirds you out, please just humor me.

I want to go to a Duke / North Carolina basketball game someday. Yes, this is pretty specific. But this is the ultimate sporting event for me. (BOBBY! COME ON, MAN!)

And I want to eat more Snickers bars with almonds. Because, dude, those things are really, really, good.

10-15 (Revisited)

2008-12-12T10:46:00.003-06:00

So… for a while now I’ve been able to forget about the whole recovery rate thing. I’ve just assumed that I’m going to be cured of this stupid cancer. Honestly, I don’t know how much of that was/is faith and how much was/is burying my head in the sand like an ostrich. But ignoring it has served me well – it reduces the stress of worrying about things I have little to no control over.

But now that I’m in my last round of chemo, I’ve started thinking about my odds again. Surely my odds are at least slightly better than the 85-90 percent typical for Burkitt’s Lymphoma since I’ve had good results from chemo so far. That is, within that 10-15 percent of folks who do not make it, some of them probably do not get good results from the very beginning. That I have tolerated chemo well and haven’t had any symptoms has got to be a good sign. Still, I wonder who finds themselves in the 10-15 percent. And I wonder if I could be in that group.

The end of round 8 marks the beginning of a very long waiting game. And if you have followed my journey at all, you probably recognize that I’m not good at waiting – even through delays that last only a few days. I will have my first major set of scan 6 weeks after round 8 is over. Then, if memory serves me correctly, I’ll have scans at 3 months, 6 months, 1 year, 2 years, and 5 years. Each of these are milestones – and I’m not sure I’ll feel like I’m really out of the woods (or out of the 10-15 percent) until 5 years is up.

So in a feeble attempt to give new meaning to the numbers 10-15, I’ve decided to come up with a list of alternatives. Here’s my list. Be ready to give me your ideas.

10-15 = percent of readers who “got” all of my 80s songs/milk jug references.
10-15 = number of months my doctor has said it will take to gain all of my strength and stamina back. I’m gonna cut that down to 6 months, though.
10-15 = percent of body hair I have left after 8 rounds of chemo.
10-15 = total number of hospital meals I’ve eaten. All other meals have been
brought in from the outside.
10-15 = number of requests for poop references. Weirdos.

OK. Your turn. Redefine 10-15 for me……….

The Home Stretch, Again

2008-12-10T12:40:00.002-06:00

My lab results were good this morning! So I'm off to the hospital this evening to start my last round of chemotherapy - for real this time, I hope. I told my doctor today that I'm glad to not have to wait a week. As it is, I felt a little like I was running a race and having just turned a corner and laid eyes on the ribbon at the finish line, I was made to stop and wait.

It sounds odd to say I'm looking forward to going to the hospital and getting chemo, but I am. The delay will mean I'll be in the hospital on my birthday, but like my doctor said about being in the hospital on Thanksgiving Day, I'll gladly be in the hospital that day so I can spend the next 50 at home.

Ready, Set, WAIT

2008-12-09T10:23:00.000-06:00

Well, I was admitted to the hospital yesterday evening to start round 8. Unfortunately, when they did labwork this morning, my white blood cell count was too low. So my chemo has been delayed at the very last minute. I’m back at home now – hoping that my white blood cells rebound enough so that tomorrow I can go back in. If they don’t, then the doctor will start me on some medication for a week that will boost my white blood cells. I don’t like being delayed for a day – let alone for a week. But I suppose some delays are inevitable and should be expected. Pray that my white blood cells will get their act together by tomorrow morning and pray for me to have patience if they don’t.

One other item…..

What do you get when you add one NC State basketball coach wildly looking for someone to celebrate with after he won the 1983 National Championship and over $80 million for cancer research? You get the JimmyV Foundation.

The Home Stretch

2008-12-08T16:46:00.002-06:00

I am going to the hospital tonight to start round 8 - my LAST round of chemotherapy. And there is much rejoicing in the land. Will post again soon.

Home Sweet Home

2008-12-03T09:52:00.000-06:00

I'm home again. I love home. I'm feeling well and looking forward to a few good days before I head back to the hospital for my next (*ahem* - LAST) round of chemotherapy.

6 Random Weekend Observations

2008-11-30T14:48:00.002-06:00

(1) I started taking humongous dosages of steroids yesterday (this is in addition to the regular steroids I sometimes get). It was a little hard to fall asleep. And I woke up wide-eyed at 5:00 am with my fingers playing percussion on my mattress to the tune of “Brick House” by the Commodores. If that offends, don’t hold it against me. I’ll try to wake up to some good and wholesome Gaithers next time.

(2) There is nothing very good on TV on Sunday mornings between 5:00 and 9:00.

(3) Speaking of Sunday TV…. I’ve discovered the formula for being wildly wrong and yet wildly popular at the same time. 70% name-it-claim-it-positive-thinking-pop-psychology-mind-over-matter-health-and-wealth jibberish. 25% sweet disposition, boyish good-looks, and sincere personality. 5% eye blinking like on the verge of a seizure. Voila – you are tickling the ears (and pocketbooks) of people with half-truths and Scripture taken out of context with no serious exegesis. It’s actually worse than that, but I’ll reserve my more scathing comments for some other day, when I’m not on steroids perhaps. (Thom, your parents have influential contacts in Houston. Can’t they DO something about that nonsense?)

(4) Humongous dosages of steroids might make a person want to eat like a horse, but they do not make hospital food taste any better. I wonder if pizza places deliver to hospitals.

(5) Having family visit me in the hospital is always good. But it was a little disconcerting to have my mother suggest to my sister that she pluck the few hairs I have left on my legs. My sister actually did. She’s got a weird thing for popping bubble wrap and stuff, so I shouldn’t be surprised, though.

(6) I love BCS chaos.

Thanks for checking in on my blog. I’m feeling much better than I did a few days ago. It looks like I MIGHT be able to go home in the next day or two.

Enjoy my early morning tune below….

Do They Serve Tofurkey at the Hospital?

2008-11-27T13:14:00.002-06:00

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!
You know that Norman Rockwell painting where the mom is setting a huge turkey down on the table in front of dad, who stands ready to carve it while the other family members look on in anticipation of the coming feast? Well, it's looking a little different than that around our house today. Aaron woke up early this morning with a fever and was admitted to the hospital about 10: 30. We were told to expect that this might happen...his immune system is just shot...and it isn't anything to worry too much about. They'll treat him with IV antibiotics and between that and the shots he's taking to help his immune system rebound, he'll be feeling better in a few days. He's not thrilled about spending the holiday in the hospital, but as the doctor said this morning, he'll miss this one so that he can celebrate the next 50! My mom and I weren't sure how long I'd be at the hospital this morning, so we decided to wait until this evening to have our "feast" here at home. One of the small groups from church brought us a deep-fried turkey, all the side dishes, and a couple of desserts yesterday and we are looking forward to that! Even though it has turned out to be unlike any Thanksgiving we've ever had before (in fact, this is the first time EVER that we haven't gone to Kansas!) we have many, many reasons to give thanks!
Shanda

Tofurkey

2008-11-26T17:48:00.004-06:00

I have been intending to write a Thanksgiving post before now. I'm not sure if there is such a thing as a "typical" Thanksgiving post, but I certainly have much to be thankful for and I would like to share some of those things with you.

The problem is that I just don't have the strength or energy to get it done right now. My body has taken a pounding for 7 rounds of chemo and I'm just not able to muster enough sustained focus to get the post written right now.

I will get it done, though, eventually. For now, you should know that I am thankful to be home with my family and getting some rest in my own bed. I am also thankful for all of you who stop by to read and leave your encouraging words!

I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving Day!

P.S. Tanner saw a cooking show the other day and afterwards suggested we have tofurkey for Thanksgiving dinner. We're gonna pass.

Yesterday and Today

2008-11-22T11:08:00.000-06:00

Uh oh. I failed. I promised to post every day – and I missed yesterday. Here is a list of possible excuses (er, I mean, explanations):

(1) Chemo brain. This is a real condition. Don’t believe me? Look it up. Would the Mayo Clinic lie? I don’t think so.

(2) I was on Benadryl yesterday during my blogging time. They give Benadryl before blood transfusions and it seriously knocks me out.

(3) I was busy compiling a list of honorable mentions for classic 80’s tunes with the words milk jugs mixed in and lost track of time.

(4) I got distracted watching Arrested Development, The Office, and Heroes.

The great news, though, is that I am getting discharged today. I’m feeling pretty good as of right now, but I am very tired. I haven’t been getting much sleep (outside of my Benadryl coma). So I am looking forward (as usual) to getting into my own bed soon.

Thanks for your thoughts and prayers!

Tumor Rumor

2008-11-20T08:59:00.007-06:00

The Conway Cancer Foundation has a newsletter they publish periodically - The Tumor Rumor. The next issue is going to highlight issues of religion and faith as they relate to cancer and treatment. I have been asked, along with a couple of other gentlemen, to submit a short article describing my own experience. I am going to post a draft below for your your review. You have one day to offer any suggestions for improvements or corrections - I don't want to teach any heresy.

First let me share my purpose in writing. I am NOT attempting to lay out a plan of salvation for readers, nor am I attempting to make a defense of the Christian faith compared to others. Those are appropriate activities, just not here in The Tumor Rumor. My goal is to encourage readers to examine their own faith journey and perhaps plant some seeds. I want to encourage dialogue amongst people struggling with their faith in the midst of cancer. Having said that, read the short article below and tell me what you think (and remember I had a word limit- which I have already exceeded).

For most of the twentieth century, folks in my field of study have been hostile towards religion and spiritual faith. Many early psychiatrists and psychologists believed that religion was a cause of mental disturbances or that only those with mental disturbances turned to religion. This has always been at odds with patients and clients who have described their faith as a healthy and sustaining factor in the midst of their ailments. And it has only been in the past two decades that researchers have noted the positive role of religion in both general medicine and mental health. Allow me to very briefly describe how my own religious faith has sustained me in the midst of my cancer and chemotherapy.

My faith has provided me with a healthy perspective on life – my past, present, and future. My faith reminds me that nothing I’ve done previously in life gives me a pass from sad or painful conditions. It’s not like I should be exempt from bad things. In fact, if anything, I deserve far worse than I ever get. And whatever I have to deal with in the midst of my cancer and treatment, there are others of faith that have persevered in the face of situations monumentally worse than mine. My faith also reminds me that my current hardships can prove to be beneficial. The Scriptures tell us that we have to suffer in order to develop perseverance, that we have to develop perseverance in order to develop character, and that we have to develop character in order to live a life of hope. And I desperately want to live a life of hope. Finally, my faith gives me perspective on the future. My worst case scenario is that I do not survive the cancer and I get to be with Jesus. I understand fully that this would be tremendously difficult for my family to deal with. But I also know that God loves my family more than I do and He knows how to care for them.

My faith has also provided me with a quiet strength to deal with the stress and strain of cancer and chemotherapy. Hearing and reading God’s Word helps me to dwell on things that are true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, of good reputation, excellent, and worthy of praise. Dwelling on the negative is not productive or healthy. God’s Word also reminds me that nothing at all (not even cancer or death) can separate me from His love. I sense God’s presence when I pray – reminding me that He is with me, not necessarily removing pain, sadness, heartache, and grief, but walking that journey with me. And I feel my spirit lift when I sing songs that honor and worship my Creator.

Finally, my faith has kept me connected to others in deep and meaningful ways. I believe that we are created to be a part of a community. Not a neighborhood or a club, but a group of others into whom we can pour our lives and to whom we can open up for their own pouring. We are created for rich and significant relationships with other believers. My faith has allowed me to be ministered to in countless ways. I have visitors nearly every day – most who know how and when to cheer me up with humor, to check on my spiritual walk, to inquire about my family, and more. We are blessed with friends who bring meals to us 2 to 3 times each week. We have friends who watch our children whenever we need them. We have been especially blessed by close friends as well as Christians we don't yet know who have given thousands of dollars to help us meet our real and practical financial needs. These folks pray for and with us. They care about us. They love us. And this has made all the difference in the world.

Obviously this is not an exhaustive list of the benefits of faith. And others would describe their experiences differently, I’m sure. But these three areas of faith – perspective, strength, and connection – have proven to be anchors for me. And whether we are living in the midst of the chaos of cancer or the regular routines of life, we all need anchors to keep us steady.

A Day in the Life...

2008-11-19T09:18:00.002-06:00

At the end of this round of chemotherapy, I will have been in the hospital for 30 of the last 41 days. I’ve done some Geraldo-like investigative research and some sophisticated statistical analysis. My conclusion? That is just a lot of time to spend in the hospital. So for your own education (and perhaps in a lame attempt to gain a little bit of sympathy), here’s a day in my life at the hospital.

9:40 a.m. – Admitted to the hospital for round 7
10:00 – Nurse takes vital signs (blood pressure, temperature, heart-rate, respiration rate, pain level) and reviews orders for this week.
10:30 – Since one of my chemo meds can be terribly hard on a person’s bladder, another drug (Mesna) and LOTS of saline fluids are started to neutralize those side effects.
10:40 – I watch a little bit of college basketball on ESPN’s 24 hour marathon. Penn has a decent match-up zone defense, but Drexel looks to be too much for them.
11:00 – Anti-nausea medication and steroids are started through my IV. If I just had some weights here, I could lift and get ripped. But then I might get ‘roid rage and stab a nurse with a syringe. That wouldn’t be good for my care – so I’ll skip all that.
11:15 – I write and post something short to my blog. I promise something ridiculous like “I’ll post something every day.” What was I thinking?
11:45 – Penn is keeping the game close.
11:50 – I have to use the restroom. They make me collect my urine in a modified ½ gallon milk jug so they can measure my inputs/outputs. It’s weird. And a little gross, I guess.
12:00 noon – Lunch is delivered. Chix-n-dressing. Eeewwww.
12:05 – Jayme stops by before she grabs lunch. We had a nice visit. I’m letting the chix-n-dressing get cold. On purpose.
12:15 – Mo is my hero. He calls and then delivers a Big Mac meal for lunch. We visit for a while, too.
12:30 – Cytoxin is started. Cytoxin is a good chemotherapy drug for my condition, but it has an unfortunate side effect of possibly raising the risk of other kinds of cancer months to years later. Additionally, here are some side effects I am supposed to be aware of and watch for: nausea/vomiting/diarrhea, hair loss, darkening of skin/nails, pink/bloody urine, unusual decrease in the amount of urine, mouth sores, unusual tiredness or weakness, joint pain, easy bruising/bleeding, infertility, existing wounds that are slow healing.
12:30 – I try not to think about all the possible side effects while the nurse takes my vitals. I distract myself by listening to some classic 80’s tunes on my mp3 player.
12:40 – Nurse takes my vitals again.
12:55 – Nurse takes my vitals again again.
1:00 – Kyle and David stop by. Kyle is the Discipleship Pastor and David is the Chairman of the deacons at church. So we spend our time singing some hymns together and translating the original Greek found in the book of Romans. We definitely do not waste our time cutting up, telling jokes, and sharing funny stories.
1:45 – I have to use the milk jug again.
1:55 – My IV pump starts beeping and I have to call the nurse to check it. It could be out of medication, have air bubbles in the lines, or something else. Who knows.
2:00 – I surf the web, update my facebook page, and check email.
2:30 – Greg stops by for a short visit.
2:50 – I try to avoid thinking about my spinal tap that is scheduled for tomorrow.
3:00 – I watch a couple of episodes of NCIS on cable. Gibbs is cranky but cool. DiNozzo is crude but funny. David is pretty but scary with her crazy ninja-skills. McGee is likeable but goofy, kinda like Gilligan. Ducky is British and long-winded with obscure stories. Abs is cute in a creepy-Goth kind of way. It’s one big happy dysfunctional family and it’s a good show.
4:00 – Milk jug.
5:00 – Dinner is delivered. Ham sandwich, Lay’s chips, and chocolate chip cookies. Although I requested this instead of the meatloaf, I’m not really going to eat it. Shanda will bring me something later this evening. (By the way, the two words “meat” and “loaf” should never be used together.)
5:20 – I surf some more.
5:30 – I decide that my next blog post should be a “day in the life” post and begin writing. I’m sure I’m forgetting some things, but I keep writing anyway.
5:40 – Beeping IV pump. Call nurse.
6:30 – Shanda calls and agrees to bring some Taco Bell. This is good because I’m getting hungry. 2 tacos, 2 beef meximelts, and a baja blast. Mmmm…. fake but good Mexican food.
6:35 – Milk jug me, Amadeus.
6:40 – Fall asleep until Shanda gets here. Dream of playing the keytar in the studio – laying down some tracks with M.C. Hammer.
8:10 – Although Shanda and I are enjoying each other’s company and catching up on the day’s events, I have to kick her out of the room because the North Carolina Tarheels are playing the Kentucky Wildcats and she isn’t too interested in college basketball.
8:15 – I’m glad that the game is being played in the Dean Dome and not Rupp Arena. Kentucky isn’t that good this year (yet), but Rupp Arena is a tough place to play and Psycho T & Ginyard aren’t in the game for the Tarheels tonight.
8:30 – I think about why I am a Tarheel fan. Dad was stationed at an Air Force base in North Carolina when I was born. He raised me to be a Tarheel fan ever since then. Thanks, Dad, for not raising me to be a Duke fan instead. *Shiver.*
9:05 – Check email and facebook because the game is getting out of hand.
9:20 – Tarheels 45. Wildcats 29. 17:10 left to go in second half. Barring injuries, I’m watching the 2009 National Champions.
9:25 – The Sharif don’t like it. Rock the milk jug. Rock the milk jug.
9:35 – Work on this blog post, mostly by googling for a good picture of a keytar.
9:37 – Wonder how some words like Google get turned into verbs. Who gets to decide that?
9:55 – Vital signs.
10:05 – Since the game is still out of hand, I walk my 21 laps around the hallways and nurse’s station (this equals 1 mile). My legs get tired and a bit wobbly. I feel a sense of accomplishment that is short-lived, because, really,… what kind of accomplishment is walking a measly 1 mile? I’m tired of feeling weak and puny and I’m ready to get back into shape when all of this is done.
10:45 – Watch some SportsCenter and check email/facebook.
11:00 – My pump is beeping. Call the nurse.
11:05 – Gonna rock down to milk jug avenue.
11:20 – Watch last week’s episode of NCIS that I missed. Netflix is awesome.
12:00 midnight – Get ready to go to bed. Sweet dreams (are made of milk jugs.)
12:30 – I fall asleep.
2:00 – Nurse comes in to take vital signs and start another dose of Cytoxin. I’m awake for quite a while. I don’t really know why, but this has happened at the beginning of some other rounds and it could be due to the steroids. I was a little wired and couldn’t turn my brain off.
2:15 – Vital signs again.
2:20 – 99 Luftmilkjugs.
3:00 – Still awake and thinking…. about my next blog entries, about an article I have to submit today to a local newsletter about faith and cancer, about Shanda dealing with a broken refrigerator at home, about my spinal tap tomorrow (darnit), about whether my student posse will visit me Thursday night, and a whole host of other random events/ideas.
3:30 – Finally fall back asleep.
4:30 – My pump is beeping. I call the nurse and she checks to see if Cytoxin is almost finished running. I’m awake for just a little bit, but not as long as before. I’m amused as I fall back asleep because I remember the time a few rounds ago that I called a nurse in the middle of the night (and in a half-stupor) and told her that “my bump was peeping.” There was some awkward silence on the intercom, but she eventually came. I have no idea what that phrase means, but it sounds funny.
5:15 – My pump is beeping again. Nurse comes in again. Cytoxin is finished. Nurse takes vital signs again.
5:20 – Owner of a lonely milk jug.
6:00 – Nurse comes in and draws several vials of blood for morning labwork.
7:15 – I wake up for good as the sun rises over the building next door and starts beaming directly into my eye. I turn the TV on and surf the sports and news channels.
7:50 – Nurse’s aide takes vital signs.
7:55 – Karma Chamilkjug.
8:30 – Doctor makes rounds and checks me out. I get a good report for the day.
8:45 – Work on this post, which has become far too long and tedious.
9:20 – Wash up in the bathroom. I only take regular showers every few days because it is quite the hassle to tape my chest all up with waterproof plastic and tape. Otherwise I use soapy water in a basin and a washcloth to get clean. I miss my showers.
9:30 – Since I shouldn’t walk much this afternoon or evening (after my stupid spinal tap) I put a few laps in this morning.

That’s a day in my life (while at the hospital). Now that I’m finished, I’m not sure what purpose it served, really. But there you go.

I Can See the Light

2008-11-18T11:21:00.002-06:00

I'm sorry it has been so long since my last post. I am now back in the hospital for round 7 and that means I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I have just one more round after this one.

I have not been very productive my last couple of hospitalizations. (Unless getting completely caught up on every episode of "The Office," "Heroes," "24," and "NCIS" counts as productivity.) So, for the sake of actually DOING something while I'm here, I've decided that I will post every day while I am in the hospital.

This last month or so of treatment could be rough. My immune system has taken a pounding and it seems like I have more complications and delays the longer this whole thing goes on. But I am in good spirits because the end is finally in sight! Thanks for your continued prayers! Stay tuned for more posts each day.

Choice Words

2008-11-05T20:26:00.003-06:00

I'm not a cussing man. Really, I'm not. My pastor and employer will both be glad to know this. But doggone it if I couldn't let loose with a couple of choice words today.

I just got out of the hospital on Monday - I was in for 2 full weeks and I nearly went insane. And today I'm BACK IN THE HOSPITAL AGAIN. I started running a fever and went to the clinic this afternoon. The doctor decided I should be admitted for IV antibiotics because I have some sort of infection. I say "some sort" because Oncologists don't wait around for cultures and labs to come in before they give antibiotics - especially with patients with little to no immune system. They give antibiotics first and ask questions later. We are hoping this stay is only for 3 or 4 days, but we'll see.

So please pray for the infection to go away ASAP and pray for Shanda as whe wrangles 3 boys at home by herself for a few days.

On a lighter note, my previous 2 week stay in the hospital helped me rediscover a few things...
- I had forgotten how nice fresh air is. Hospital air, not so much.
- I had forgotten how gorgeous Arkansas trees are in the fall.
- I had forgotten that eating oatmeal is what I imagine eating a hot bowl of snot would be like.

I'm sure there's more, but I'm on Benadryl right now. They give that as a standard "pre-med" before blood and platelet transfusions. I'm fighting off the sleepiness, but find myself staring blankly at the computer screen. I'll take that as a sign to stop and post something else later.

Bonus Days

2008-10-25T10:32:00.003-05:00

Well, many of you know that I've been in the hospital since Monday. The problem is that I had a couple of sores on one leg that needed antibiotics before chemo started. The doctor wanted those to be good and healed before chemo started messing with my immune system and thereby risking the infections returning. So..... I've gotten 5 bonus hospital days this round. YIPPEE. Chemo will start tomorrow.

I'm afraid that this extra-long hosptial stay may have me bouncing off the walls before I get to go home. I need to find some things to do to pass the time. I haven't been very creative so far. Mostly I watch TV. But there's only so many reruns of NCIS and episodes of SportsCenter that a man can watch. ((Although I think I've set the record for the number of "The Office" episodes a person can watch in two days - Netflix is awesome.))

So I need some suggestions from my peeps on how to pass the time while stuck here for another week. The nurses won't play Texas Hold 'Em with me and I'm not good at making prank phone calls. Help a brother out.

Getting Fired

2008-10-21T13:47:00.006-05:00

Giant sequoias are enormous trees. In fact, I’m told they are the largest living things to ever inhabit the earth. They grow to over 300 feet tall, over 40 feet in diameter and can live for over 3000 years. Their root systems can spread out over half an acre. That’s impressive.

But giant sequoias have difficulty reproducing. Seeds are trapped inside the cones, which stay attached to the tree without opening for up to 20 years. Trapped, that is, unless subjected to wildfire.

When a wildfire burns around giant sequoias, hot air rises and dries out the cones – allowing them to release the seeds. The fire also burns off the top layer of soil below and adds nutrients most favorable for giant sequoia seeds to germinate.

Giant sequoias need the fire in order to grow.

Maybe now I’ve found a metaphor that works.

In his letter to the Romans, Paul says we need the fire, too. It’s amazing how much more sense this makes to me now compared to just 4 months ago. Here’s Paul’s formula…

1 – We have to suffer in order to develop perseverance.
2 – We have to develop perseverance in order to develop character.
3 – We have to develop character in order to live a life of hope.
(See Romans 5:3-4)

I’m just glad I know the Refiner.

The Melodramatic and the Mundane

2008-10-17T21:38:00.002-05:00

The Melodramatic…
I’m being tortured. Sort of. Remember the Chinese water torture? During this procedure, water is slowly dripped on the forehead of an immobilized person – the inescapable repetition rendering them insane. I’m suffering from another sort of inescapable repetition: visiting the hospital or oncology clinic.

Since my treatment began in July, I can count on ONE HAND the number of days I have NOT been in the hospital or clinic for some sort of treatment. You already know about my inpatient stays. Each lasts about a week. But you may not know that in between each of those rounds of chemotherapy, I visit my oncology clinic nearly every day. This is usually for at least 1-2 hours, seldom less, sometimes more. This is necessary to run labwork, give me injections or other meds, get transfusions, etc. Taking a couple of hours out of your day for the doctor is no big deal when done occasionally. Taking a couple of hours out of EVERY day is driving me loopy. Pray for my sanity.

The Mundane…
My tubes are back. I had them taken out as a precaution when I got an infection. But I had another Hickman catheter put in today. The procedure went well. I’m a little sore, but that’s about all. Shanda hasn’t told me any funny things I said coming out of the anesthesia, so that’s good. I’ve been known to ramble off weird comments in that twilight stage.

I went to “P.E. with Parents” at Parker’s school on Wednesday. It was embarrassing. I couldn’t keep up with a room of 1st graders. On the upside, all the kids thought my bald head was cool.

I’ve lost nearly all my eyebrows and eyelashes by now.

I’m looking forward to a good weekend. Parker has a soccer game Saturday morning. We are leaving the kids at home with a cell phone and a twenty dollar bill (and grandma) and heading out for a steak dinner on Saturday night. I’m planning on going to church Sunday. It should be good around here. Round 6 of my chemo starts in the hospital on Monday. I’ve got Season 6 of “24” from Netflix ready to go while I’m there.

Thanks for all your comments on my last post. I needed them. I’ve given Shanda open access to the blog from now on. She’ll be able to give updates if I’m too far into my foxhole some days.

From the Foxhole

2008-10-12T10:28:00.004-05:00

DISCLAIMER: This blog post has been swimming around in my head for about a week – and I’ve even tried to write it once already. I just haven’t gotten it to work. I’m determined to finish within the next hour while I am at the clinic getting IV meds this morning, though. Please pardon the rambling mess – but here it is.

I love metaphors. They have a unique way of communicating ideas quickly, but with rich and vivid details. They speak to our emotions, to our guts. Metaphors are great.

The problem is that I don’t have many great metaphors for my life lately.

When I began this journey, I was reminded of the marathon metaphor. I knew that this would not be a sprint, but rather a long and grueling race of endurance. I even use this metaphor with my students often toward the end of each semester – encouraging them to “finish strong” – pushing them to end their coursework with a kick at the end rather than coasting. The problem is that my own metaphor is failing me now. I don’t know if I’ll have a kick left at the end of my treatment. I remember an Olympic marathon runner during my childhood that entered the stadium staggering. She was barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Her head hung low and one shoulder seemed to be drooping so much she would topple at any moment. She seemed to have lost coordination of her major muscle groups and dehydration was taking its toll. I feel more like this marathon runner than someone who is going to finish strong. The marathon metaphor is no good for me now.

Another popular word picture comes from the world of boxing. In fact, there is a well-known cancer treatment facility here in town that advertises “taking the fight to cancer” with a picture of someone in boxing gloves. I appreciated this metaphor for a time, too. I was in a battle – and while I knew I would take some heavy punches – I also knew in the end I would KO cancer. I would jab my way with some humor. My blog would show how I could float like a butterfly and sting like a bee in the middle of a heavyweight bout. I might end up with a black eye, but I would stand over cancer at the end, flexing my muscles and roaring in triumph. But this metaphor is failing me, too. I feel more like a boxer who is taking a pounding and can do nothing more than try desperately to cover up his head with his hands and pray for the bell to ring. My eyes are swelling shut, my nose is bloody, my legs are weak, and I don’t care as much about victory as I do about just surviving to fight another day. The boxing metaphor is no good for me, either.

Still unpleasant, but perhaps more accurate for me these days is a wartime metaphor. For a while I was fond of WWII movies and video games (like “Band of Brothers” and “Call of Duty”). From them, I learned that in the midst of an approaching aerial attack, sometimes the best course of action is to dig a bunker and settle in until it is over. I have definitely developed a bunker mentality. This is somewhat literal – spending more and more days in my home-bunker, as my immune system stays so low for longer periods of time, preventing me from visiting any public places.

But it is much more than that. I have developed a sort of cognitive and emotional foxhole, too. For a while, I described this as a “narrowing of my focus” to my wife, but that sounded too weird. I explained to her that I could tell I was letting go of more and more things that I used to care about. I just didn’t have the emotional energy to invest in my usual interests. I was developing a sort of intellectual and emotional tunnel vision. And by now I’ve reached the point that while I may peek out of my foxhole every once in a while, I mostly stay hunkered down, just waiting, hoping, and praying for this all to end.

Blogging, reading, watching good tv shows and movies, returning phone calls and emails, church, politics, reaching out to my friends, Taco Bueno and Zaxby’s, teaching and Department Chair obligations, writing thank you notes… all these things and more have been pushed to the side as I sit in my foxhole, concentrating what little I have left of myself on this ridiculous cancer and the chemotherapy (which at times feels more like a second enemy than an ally.)

I’ve also learned from these WWII movies that some people don’t survive their foxhole experiences too well. After the bombardment is over, they don’t get out. They are shell shocked. Their world is spinning out of control, seeming to go too fast and in slow motion at the same time. Their senses are all out of whack – hearing is shot and vision is fuzzy. Nothing makes sense and what they need is for another soldier to come over and pull them out of their foxhole to get them going again.

I wonder what kind of man I’m going to be after this is all over. I am beginning to imagine that I could very well end up quite shell shocked like this. I may be just a shadow of the person I once was. I could end up in pieces by the time treatment is successful. I may be a broken man when this is done.

But there is hope.

God is in the business of putting pieces back together.

My pastor in Texas once remarked that he always asked potential ministry staff during interviews to describe a time in their life when they were broken. He went on to explain his conviction that God has a unique way of using people who have been broken and it was these kind of people he wanted on staff with him. I’ve taken some comfort in this idea lately. Rather than trying to avoid the inevitable brokenness, rather than trying to fake it, rather than denying that this experience is bigger than me, I’ve decided to take what comes and let God put the pieces back together when it is over.

I also take comfort knowing that I have many people that will come to my bunker and pull me out when it’s over. I trust that my students will be there to put me back together into a good teacher again. I trust that my friends will drag me out to On The Border and Larry’s Pizza. I trust that the guys will get me out for some basketball and movies. I trust that my colleagues will bring me back into the CBC fold again, catching me up on all the happenings and inside jokes. I trust my church family to provide gracious and healing relationships if/when I need them. I trust that all my friends and family members will help me build a normal life again – something I miss terribly.

Please continue to pray for me and my family. And while I’m not posting as often (here in my foxhole) please know I appreciate your thoughtful words. I’m fortunate that about 90% of my blog readers are folks I knew by first name before they left their first comment – so your words of encouragement mean all the more to me.

That’s enough for now. I have a few other items, but I’ll post them another time when I peek out of my bunker. My hour is almost up at the clinic!

Round 5 Update

2008-10-04T09:09:00.002-05:00

Hello, everyone!
I'm updating for Aaron today...he's tired and not up to blogging right now, but he did want you to know how things were going. This morning he is finishing up Round 5 of his chemo and he should be discharged in just a couple of hours. He is looking forward to being home. Aaron experienced a couple of bumps in the road this week. Due to the infection he had last week, Dr. Reid thought the safest course of action would be to take out Aaron's Hickman catheter ("the tubes" as Aaron affectionately refers to them) and put a PICC line in his arm temporarily so that they can continue to administer medications, draw blood, etc. He had those procedures done yesterday. He'll get IV antibiotics every day for the next week and then sometime before Round 6 begins, he'll have surgery to put in another Hickman. All of these things are relatively minor and you'd think we would know to expect the unexpected by now, but they still seem to cause a little anxiety. Other than those issues, Round 5 went fine and we are glad to be able to say we have fewer rounds in front of us than we have behind us now! Thank you all for your prayers and words of encouragement!
Shanda

Round 5

2008-09-29T20:33:00.002-05:00

I'm back in the hospital tonight - starting round 5 of my chemo. I'm feeling good - almost like I'm catching my second wind for the second half of this journey.

Thanks for your continued thoughts and prayers!

I've Got a Fever...

2008-09-24T12:14:00.001-05:00

Well, at least I did have a fever. It’s gone now. It’s been a rough couple of weeks – but many of you got that idea already from my recent posts. Last week my neck swolled up like I had the gout and I started running a fever. Running a fever when your immune system basically non-functioning is NOT good. Once the fever hit 101, my doctor admitted me to the hospital for some close monitoring and heavy duty antibiotics.

I am doing much better now. My fever has resolved and my neck is normal. My energy is good and appetite is returning. And I should get to go home very soon – as early as tonight – as long as some labwork returns OK.

I’ve been reminded lately of the value of laughter. Proverbs 17:22 says, “A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit saps a person’s strength.” So it is only fitting that I close with this funny and classic reference to someone else’s fever. For those unfamiliar with it – I wish you could see the whole skit, but apparently NBC won’t allow YouTube to post it.

Bedrock Theology

2008-09-18T20:19:00.003-05:00

Sorry for the delay in posting... This has been the roughest week in my treatment so far - mostly because of the fatigue that I mentioned in my last post.

But I'm hanging in there. And I'm reminding myself of three foundational truths....

(1) God is good - He always has been.
(2) God is in control - He always is.
(3) God loves me - He always will.

That's good stuff - even if you don't have cancer, right?

Tired

2008-09-14T21:23:00.002-05:00

Back during my Labor Day Q & A, Stephen asked what has changed the most as a result of my cancer and wondered what we might do better to minister to other families in similar situations.

(Stephen’s profile says he is a student in Afghanistan. I still can’t believe people actually READ my blog, let alone people in on the other side of the world. Whoa.)

This may not be the most comprehensive answer…. and it may seem trivial, actually… but doggone it – I’m tired. I’m weary, worn-out, fatigued, drained, and run-down. I’m pooped. (Brett, that last one was for you – and anyone else that giggles at the “p” word.)

This exhaustion comes in 2 main forms. First, there is just the sheer physical tiredness. I thought I was prepared for being a little worn down. And most days aren’t too troublesome. But after each round of chemotherapy, there are about 3-4 days of feeling an extreme tiredness. “Sleepy” isn’t the right word, though I do sleep a lot. This is body-dropping exhaustion. For example, I was discharged from the hospital Friday afternoon. I came home and slept from 4:00-6:00, was up for a couple of hours and them slept 12 hours straight from 8:00-8:00. After a couple hours, I took another 2 hour nap that morning, a nap that afternoon, and then went to bed at 9:00 that night.

It is now Sunday evening and I’m starting to feel better, but I’m beginning to hate the weariness. I told my son I couldn’t go to his first soccer game on Saturday morning and felt a little bit like a loser for doing so. I’m not doing much to help around the house and I didn’t go to church this morning – all because, well, I’m tired. Combine all that with a decrease in overall stamina for physical activities, and I start to feel like a weak, incompetent person. That’s been a struggle.

This leads nicely (if I do say so myself) to the second kind of tiredness. Looking ahead makes me emotionally drained. I have found this ironic, because I am actually half way done right now. This should be cause for celebration. I’m half done! But there’s been no streamers, no confetti, no balloons, and no cake – nor should there be. And I can’t keep myself from thinking I’m only half-way done. The road still looks long to me, and it makes me tired. I’m tired of hospital food. I’m tired of the hair loss. I’m tired of injections in my belly and spinal taps in my back. I’m tired of playing the role of sick person in my family. I’m tired of the weird routine I’ve established for my life and I’m tired of this ridiculous cancer.

Wow, I just reread my words and they sound a little heavy. I hope I don’t come across as an emotional wreck. I’d go back and delete half that stuff, but then I’d have to work at something else to write. And as I’ve explained, I’m too tired for that. Stephen asked what has changed the most – and it is the weariness.

He also asked about ministering to other families. I’m going to save that for another post. I have much to share about God’s blessings and provisions and how He has used others to minister to us.

For now, I’d like to make yet another request of ya’ll. I have a handful of verses that have been especially meaningful to me as they relate to tiredness/strength, etc. But I’d like to know from you…. what Scripture helps you the most when you are tired and you have a long road yet ahead?

Medications and Petitions

2008-09-09T22:15:00.004-05:00

Like all medications, my chemotherapy medications follow a dose-response curve. This means that at low levels, the medications do little to no good in treating the cancer. There is a minimum dosage needed for the medication to be effective. This also means there is a maximum dosage of the medication beyond which there is no more increase in effectiveness. The area in between this minimum and maximum dosage is the therapeutic level of medication. Click on the picture for a larger graph of a typical dose-response curve.

Some medications have wide therapeutic levels, others are very narrow. Whatever the therapeutic level, it is critically important to find it. Not enough of the medication and you don’t beat the cancer, it beats you. Too much of the medication and you beat the cancer alright, but the medication beats you as well.

I’ve noticed that some very well-meaning folks think that prayers work on a dose-response curve, too.

I am very blessed. Seriously. I have an untold number of people praying for me. My family. My church. My parents' and in-laws' friends. My parents' and in-laws' churches and Sunday School classes. My friends from college and seminary – and their churches. My co-workers – and their churches. And this is just the beginning. There are people I’ve never met that are praying for me.

I’m honored that so many people would petition our King on my behalf. I’m floored, actually. I don’t deserve the attention. But I am encouraged beyond words. It is very hard to get too discouraged when I know so many people around the world are praying specifically for me. I believe in the power of prayer.

But I sometimes detect in conversations with others a belief that God must be answering these prayers for my healing because there are so many people praying. And I wonder…… Does God answer prayers on a dose-response model? Is there a minimum number of people that must pray before He decides to answer? If Shanda was the only person praying for example, would it matter? On the other hand, is there a maximum number of people praying beyond which it doesn’t make much of a difference?

Does God count votes? Do more prayers by more people require God to be more active? I don’t think so.

But now my head starts to hurt – because I WANT as many people praying for me as possible. I see the value of our church prayer lists – not just for me, but for everyone who is hurting and in need. And I believe that God answers prayers.

So here’s your chance for reader participation again. (Actually, I ALWAYS invite reader participation.) Help me sort through this issue. Do numbers matter? Why or why not?

Identity Theft

2008-09-08T23:20:00.002-05:00

As a professor and a blogger, it is inevitable that my own words sometimes come back to haunt me. In what I consider to be the first post related to my cancer, I made some rather bold statements. And more than a few folks have reminded me of them. Consider these words…

“My life will not revolve around or focus on my ailment.”

“You won’t read much about my condition here in upcoming days and months.”

“Whatever it is – even if it is really bad – it isn’t significant enough to take center stage in my world.”

Oh brother. Reading them now makes me wonder what world I was living in. Cancer has a way of taking over your life – at least temporarily. Nearly everything I do revolves around it. It is THE reference point for my life’s activities and decisions. Am I well enough to do this activity? Do I have enough energy? Am I going to be in the hospital? Will my immune system withstand it? Will I be at the clinic or doctor’s office? The list of questions goes on.

My life is in one big time out. And my cancer is more than taking center stage. It is the only show in town for me.

But the main point of that first post still stands. Now consider these words…

“No matter what the condition is, I will NOT let it define me.”

“It will not become a part of my identity.”

I am still committed to these words, though sometimes this is easier said than done. But this is why I don’t wear the ridiculous hospital gowns. They identify me as a sick person. This is why I don’t participate in online support groups or discussion boards for people with cancer. As helpful and worthwhile as they may be, I’m resisting being identified as a cancer patient. This is why I don’t like having a bald head. I’m not at all vain about my appearance, but I feel like I might as well be wearing a neon sign that announces “CANCER PATIENT” up there.

Several items in my life have already had their identity stolen. I have some shirts that I now call my “cancer shirts.” Though they are perfectly normal and nice looking shirts, we bought them just for me to wear at the hospital and I can’t even imagine wearing them elsewhere. They are identified with my cancer. I also bought some crocs to wear while at the hospital – but they are quickly becoming my “cancer crocs.” As comfortable as they are, I may have to burn them once my treatment is over. Their identity has been taken over.

But I refuse to let cancer steal my identity. It will not and cannot define who I am.

So while I persevere and wait for the day when cancer will not be center stage, I remind myself of these fundamental truths about my identity…

I am a child (John 1:12) and a friend (John 15:15) of the King.

I am also His workmanship (Ephesians 2:10).

Gearing Up

2008-09-06T21:34:00.003-05:00

So my Labor Day holiday from the blog turned into a weeklong break. And it was nice, actually. I've mentioned before that sometimes blogging only serves to remind me of my cancer and treatment. Taking a break is good for me every once in a while.

Just to give you a quick update.... I had a great week. I was able to meet with my classes at CBC and see my students and coworkers. My energy level was good and I was able to get out of the house to do some normal things, including making a trip to On The Border (the best restaraunt around) and a movie in Little Rock on Friday night.

I've been gearing up for Monday when I will begin round 4 of chemotherapy. This will mark the half-way point of my treatment!

I have several blog posts percolating in my head, and I imagine I will be writing nearly every day while I'm in the hospital. Thanks for staying tuned!

Labor Day Q&A

2008-09-01T09:10:00.002-05:00

In honor of Labor Day, I'm taking to day off from working up a new blog topic. Instead, this is YOUR turn to ask me anything and everything you ever wanted to know about my cancer, treatment, or whatever. I'll tackle (nearly) any question - from the serious to the silly. It's open Q&A time!

(P.S. - pray for me today, though. The clinic is closed and Shanda has to give me an injection in the belly. She's been waiting a long time to inflict this kind of pain on me, I think.)

GIG #3 - The Hickman Catheter

2008-08-29T22:18:00.003-05:00

I’m thankful for Dr. Robert O. Hickman and his 1973 invention – the Hickman catheter. (You can read Dr. Hickman’s short bio here.) I have a love/hate relationship with this instrument. But let’s be clear here at the beginning – this is not the kind of catheter you are currently thinking of. That would be a much less complicated relationship (and would prohibit any blog pictures, I'm afraid). Rather, this is an intravenous (IV) catheter, with tubes running into my jugular vein.

It was surgically placed in my chest before chemotherapy began in order to deliver drugs, fluids, and blood transfusions. It will remain there until my treatment is over. Yes, I have tubes hanging from my chest like in the picture above. This is creepy. And although I don’t think anyone else would really notice the tubes under my shirt, I’m sometimes self-conscious about them and feel as if I need to introduce my tubes to friends and strangers alike. But blurting out, “Hi. My name is Aaron and these are my tubes” will only get me weird looks.

My sons think the tubes are kinda cool, though. I’m like some kind of part human--part machine combo now. Tanner wondered if they made me kinda like a superhero and thought maybe one tube could shoot lasers while the other one could shoot lava. I could be (cue big announcer voice) “Super-Laser-Lava-Robo-Daddy!!” But SLLRD is too long for a superhero uniform and sounds badly now matter how you try to pronounce it. So we just left it at Super Daddy.

Despite the creepiness and periodic hassles, I am thankful that I have the Hickman catheter and have avoided countless needle sticks in my arms. You all already know how much I like those.

Radiology Report

2008-08-27T19:07:00.003-05:00

Round 3 is over and I’ve been home for a few days. Until today, I’ve felt pretty crummy. But my energy and appetite are returning and I feel much better. I had a CT scan done yesterday and although I have not consulted with the doctor yet, I did sweet talk my way to a hard copy of the results from the radiologist. Here’s an abbreviated version, just for my readers….

RADIOLOGY REPORT

PROCEDURE:
CT Abdomen and Pelvis

DATE: 08/26/08

COMPARISON: 07/03/08

HISTORY: Burkitt lymphoma

TECHNIQUE: Routine with oral and IV contrast.

FINDINGS:
Marked cecal thickening has nearly completely resolved. Appendiceal thickening and distention has significantly decreased though some persistent mucosal thickening of the appendix is seen. Adjacent lymph nodes are also smaller. Organs of the pelvis are otherwise normal in appearance.

IMPRESSION:
Near resolution of cecal thickening. Significant decrease in appendiceal thickening.

I’m sure my doctor will interpret all of this for me when I visit with him in the next couple of days. But here’s my own interpretation: WOO HOO – THE STINKIN’ TUMOR IS ALMOST ALL GONE!! The cecum is where the majority of my tumor was located (where small and large intestines meet). And that “thickening” is nearly completely gone. There is still some of the mass near my appendix. But this is well within what is expected at this point in treatment.

This is great news, especially considering I’m not yet half way done with chemo. It’s early in the game and I’m kicking some Burkitt butt.

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers!!!!

Just in Case...

2008-08-23T07:00:00.000-05:00

…you youths were tempted to tease me…

Click here to read 2 Kings 2:23-24. Then think again.

85-90

2008-08-22T07:00:00.000-05:00

85-90%…
85-90%…
85-90%…

That’s my projected total recovery rate – meaning my cancer goes away with chemo and never comes back. I sometimes repeat those numbers to myself, like some sort of lucky mantra.

As far as cancer news goes, that is very, very good. And I am very, very thankful. But somewhere in the back of my mind lingers two quiet questions: “Who is in the other 15-10%?” and “Could I be in that group?” But I choose not to let myself dwell on these questions for long. They are too unsettling.

Throughout this entire ordeal, I can honestly say there have been very few times of fear or anxiety for me. What fear and anxiety I have felt has been related in some way to this 10-15% group. So I deal with it by not thinking about it. I just assume I’m going to be in the 85-90%.

I need your help again. Please put on your theological thinking caps to ponder this question – Is it a sin to be afraid? It seems a normal and natural reaction in a situation like this. But is normal and natural the same as being OK and right? Is it a sign of weakness, of failing to trust God?

This is important. Because it is within the realm of possibility that God’s plan for my situation is to allow me to be in the 10-15%. I need to take this possibility into some consideration. If you have followed my posts, you know I don’t worry about myself, but I worry a lot about what would happen to my family – my sons in particular. I always know in my head that God loves them more than I do and will take care of them. I just don’t always feel it in my heart.

So help me. (This is my plea for reader participation.) What do I do with the fear and anxiety that will come if I consider being in the 10-15%? Ignore it? Deny it? Accept it as normal and natural? Work though it? (If so, how?)

Whoa. I just realized how heavy my past few posts have been. I’ll try to lighten it up a bit soon by writing about poop or something.

Hootie and the Blowfish and Me

2008-08-21T07:00:00.001-05:00

Do you remember Hootie and the Blowfish? They were a phenomenon of the mid-1990s. Every college student (including me) owned Cracked Rear View. We belted out with Darius Rucker the lyrics to songs like “Hold My Hand,” “I Only Wanna Be With You,” and “Let Her Cry.” That album went platinum 16 times and still ranks as the 12th best selling album in music business history. Most people don’t know that Hootie and the Blowfish have continued to crank out albums. But none of them have reached anything close to the heights of Cracked Rear View. I don’t know if we can classify them as a one-hit wonder since they had several hits from that album. But they definitely have only had one album achieve worldwide success of any magnitude.

I saw Darius Rucker interviewed on Vh1 of something like that not long ago. He was reviewing the history of the band, and discussing the success of Cracked Rear View compared to other albums. He said that they enjoyed the wild success of that album and all the big venues and recognition it provided. But he also said they have been content with their subsequent albums, too. They are playing smaller venues, receiving less recognition, and making less money. But they are satisfied. They are not bent on trying to relive or recreate the glory days.

I would much rather be like Hootie and the Blowfish than some other bands always trying to achieve their previous success.

If, and this is a monumental “if,” this time in my life turns out to be part of a plan of profound importance, I am much more comfortable being a one-hit wonder. I don’t think I can sustain prolonged profoundness. I am amazed, even bewildered, but extremely honored that people read my blog and have found a little bit of encouragement, hope, and inspiration. Thank you for your kind words to me. Please know it’s all about God, not me.

But I have to tell you, I am looking forward to the day when my life isn’t, well, profound. I enjoy prolonged periods of normal and quiet stability. Is that wrong? A friend of mine a church mentioned in our Sunday School class this week that he desperately wanted to do big things for God. Just for one example, he wants to be like the missionary to cannibals who accomplished great things before being martyred. He wants to be a part of a profound plan.

And I caught myself thinking, “Man, I’m not so sure I want to sign up for that.” I want to have a solid Christian walk, but I’m not sure I want a life of magnitude. I don’t think I’m up to that challenge. I want a quiet life again. I like the idea of being a one-hit wonder. Seriously, is that wrong?

Why? (part 3)

2008-08-20T07:39:00.004-05:00

I’ve mentioned a couple of times already (here and here) that I am not wrestling with the “why” question like I thought I might. Even in the middle of round 3 of chemotherapy that continues to be true. But I’ve decided that I might want to distinguish between at least two different kinds of “why” questions. First, there is the “why” question that is laden with anger, bitterness, sadness, or most of all, entitlement. This question has the person as the center of attention: “God, of all the people in the world, why did this have to happen to ME?” Whether by denial, self-righteousness, or God’s grace, I have not been struggling with this question. Compared to a perfectly holy, righteous, and just God, I actually deserve worse than a fight with cancer. I am a blessed man.

Second, there is the “why” question that is an honest, non-blaming search for God’s design. This question has God as the center of attention: “God, what are you trying to accomplish through and in me during this time? How would you have me live my life in the midst of this situation?” (Perhaps, then, this is actually a “what” or a “how” question.) I think I should be giving THIS question more thought.

There is a story in the Bible of a man with his own major life crisis – he was blind from birth: John 9:1-3: As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" "Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.”

Jesus’ disciples approach him and ask the first kind of “why” question. Why is THIS man blind? Is it his own fault or that of his parents?

But Jesus answers the second kind of question. God intends to use this man’s situation to demonstrate something about how He works.

I suppose the same could be said of my situation (and yours someday). God wants to use it to demonstrate to, both to me and to others, something about how He works. And even as I type these words, I feel the gravity of responsibility. I need to be thoughtful and diligent. This is serious business. There could be a plan of profound importance at stake.

Honestly, I’m not sure I like that. I don’t know that God can rely on me for that. I’m not sure that I’ve ever done much that is “profound” in my life.

Pray for me through the rest of my treatment that I will be more purposeful in my behavior. Pray that I’ll have good conversations with my nurses and nurse’s aides. Pray that I’ll make sense in my blog posts. Pray that I’ll have a positive influence on my students and any others who are watching what I say and do these days. But through all of that, pray that I won’t try to do it all on my own power – pray that I’ll allow God to do His work in me.

Good News, Bad News

2008-08-16T11:06:00.005-05:00

The good news – I’m not a wimp for passing out (more than once) at the oncology clinic. I remembered something about a reflex that works in some people from my Abnormal Psychology textbook. So I looked it up. There is a case study of a woman named Judy, who fainted during a movie with graphic scenes of blood in it. Here's an excerpt from the book:

“We now know that more is involved in [this reaction] than just [wimpiness and early childhood experiences]. Physiologically, Judy experienced a vasovagal syncope, which is a common cause of fainting. When she saw the film she became mildly distressed, as many people would, and her heart rate and blood pressure increased accordingly, which she probably did not notice. Then her body took over, immediately compensating by decreasing her vascular resistance, lowering her heart rate and, eventually, lowering her blood pressure. The amount of blood reaching her brain diminished until she lost consciousness. Syncope means “sinking feeling” or ‘swoon’ because of low blood pressure in the head….

A possible cause of the vasovagal syncope is an overreaction of a mechanism called the sinoaortic baroreflex arc, which compensates for sudden increases in blood pressure by lowering it. Interestingly, the tendency to overcompensate seems to be inherited, a trait that may account for the high rate of [wimpiness at needles and blood] in families.”

If you made it through that material, you learned two things. (1) I’m not really a wimp, and (2) It’s my dad’s fault.

The bad news – I did not get to have a CT scan on Wednesday as planned. This would have let us know how well the chemotherapy was working at shrinking my tumor. Unfortunately, my kidneys are getting overworked right now and since CT scans can be hard on kidneys, too, they decided to postpone the CT scan for a couple of weeks. I’m a little disappointed. It would have been nice to get some concrete data on my progress.

The good-or-bad-depending-on-how-you-look-at-it news – I start round 3 of my chemo on Monday. I will probably be in the hospital that afternoon.

Why? (part 2)

2008-08-14T15:23:00.003-05:00

Back on July 9th (and before I started chemotherapy), I shared some of my thoughts about the “why” question. I wrote then that I had not been struggling with asking it. I didn’t figure that there was any good reason why I should not get cancer.

Since that time, I think I’ve read a dozen or so articles and a couple of books – and it seems like all of them have addressed this “why” question that haunts many people. Each one of these articles and books described how everyone with cancer (or in some other crisis) eventually asks why. Everyone wants to know why they have to suffer, why they have to experience some particular hardship, why they have to endure disappointment, pain, or loss.

In fact, one article explained that even Jesus asked the “why” question on the cross. In Mark 15:34 we read this: And at the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?"—which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

Dang. So everyone asks the "why" question? Even Jesus??

I began to feel uneasy. Several questions started to swirl in my head. Am I just in denial? Am I burying my head in the sand? Am I being genuine and authentic? Am I faking some sort of self-righteousness? Do I think I’m better than Jesus?

I don’t know. But I still don’t think much about the “why” question. I’m not angry or bitter that I have cancer. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like it. I don’t like the fatigue, the medicines, the strain it is putting on the rest of my family, the interference it is having on my friendships, work, and hobbies. I don’t like it at all. But I figure this is just a part of life – it is part of what it means to live in a world that is tainted with sin.

And I figure Jesus is the only person who ever deserved to have an answer.

The author of last article I read made me feel better. After describing his own struggle with several crises and the “why” question, here was his conclusion:

“If I knew why each of those events happened, I still wouldn’t be satisfied. Comfort doesn’t come with explanations; it comes from the promises of God. And not once did God answer the why’s of Job. Nor did He answer the why of Jesus. What both of them realized at the end of their lives was that compared to the presence of God, the why didn’t matter.”

I liked that.

Why? (part 3) – coming soon.

GIG #2 - Meet the Staff

2008-08-12T11:02:00.002-05:00

Since day 1 of this ordeal, every single person – every doctor, every nurse, every receptionist – has been pleasant to work with. There’s not been one person that I’ve had issues with. Now, there are some people that I enjoy more than others due to personality, similar interests, etc. But there’s not been anyone that I’ve thought to myself, “ooh, I don’t really like them,” Of all the things I am thankful for, this is at or near the top of the list. I’m not sure it would be for everyone else, but for a people person like me, this is extremely important.

There’s Dr. Thomas Reid, who shoots straight in his discussions and is accessible, confident, and honest. He makes me feel like we are on a team together, battling this cancer. He credentials are outstanding – like being the Chief of Oncology at Walter Reed Hospital before coming to Conway. And anybody who has both and MD and PhD has got to be pretty smart, right?

You can read an article about him here – http://www.thecabin.net/stories/062908/loc_0629080015.shtml
Or visit his hospital staff page here – http://www.conwayregional.org/body.cfm?xyzpdqabc=0&id=50&action=detail&ref=284

And there’s all the nursing staff at the clinic, too. It is hard to describe how good they are. They all have found the ability to show compassion without showing pity. They are empathetic without being sympathetic. They take cancer and treatment seriously, but don’t take the rest of life too seriously.

There’s Cathy, who was with us when we got the news of the kind of cancer and its staging and who has gone out of her way to educate us on all sorts of things related to cancer and quality of life. There’s Lesa, who says if she were in charge of all my neupogen shots in the belly, she would have done them in a pattern – the tiny bruises giving me a temporary tattoo. There’s Dena, who I know has struggled with cancer in her own immediate family. There’s Laura and Amanda, who usually do my labwork and tease me about passing out while keeping one eye on me just in case I do it again. There’s Sonja, who I found holding my feet up once I regained consciousness from passing out. Next time I’ll see if she’ll massage them while she’s at it. There’s Maria, who I’ve called Marilyn maybe more than once but she doesn’t hold it against me. There’s Darla, Tammy, Amy, and Diane, all who have made me feel welcome and cared for.

Any time you name names like this, you run the risk of leaving someone out. I don’t think any of the nurses know about this blog. But knowing Conway, somebody somewhere will point it out to one of them someday. So I should say, with all honesty and sincerity, that I appreciate every single one of the nurses there. And some day later, I’ll highlight the staff at the hospital, too.

If/when you think of it, remember Dr. Reid and all the nurses by name in your prayers. Thank God for such competent compassionate folks

Status update: My white blood cell counts and anc counts are up (this is a good sign that my immune system is rebounding from round 2). But my red blood cells were getting pretty low. So I am – as I blog right now – getting a transfusion. I haven’t had any trouble with it so far. I have a CT scan scheduled for tomorrow.

By the Numbers

2008-08-08T10:37:00.002-05:00

45 – Days we’ve known that I have cancer.

2 – Rounds of chemo down, 6 more to go. For the statistically challenged, that means I’m 25% finished.

13 – Pill bottles in my pill bottle basket

18 – Pills I take every day.

14 – Neupogen shots I’ve gotten in my belly.

3 – CT Scans after next Wednesday when we’ll find out to what extent my tumor has been reduced.

4 – Spinal taps, 12 more to go. They aren’t extremely painful, but I hate those.

4 – Episodes of throwing up. Shanda feels very sorry for me when I do, but I just keep repeating my mantra to her: “It’s just vomit.”

3 – Fingers that have been left a little numb from the chemotherapy. We don’t know if that will go away or not.

0 – Eyebrows I have lost so far. But it’s just a matter of time and it’s gonna be weird.

2 – Episodes of passing out at the oncology clinic.

7 – Approximate number of nurses staring at me when I regained consciousness.

14 – Meals we have had good friends make and deliver to our house.

2 – Grandmas that have come for extended stays to help take care of our boys.

12 – Approximate number of times each day that Shanda asks me, “Are you OK?”

12 – Inches long for each tile on the oncology floor at the hospital.

250 – Number of tiles a person travels if they make a lap around the oncology floor.

21 – Laps around the oncology floor to make 1 mile.

3 – Miles I walked during my last hospitalization.

7 – References to Kojak or Mr. Clean when people hear about or see my bald head.

Cancer Shmancer

2008-08-07T14:26:00.002-05:00

I feel like I should apologize for not posting anything in several days. I know some of you check often for updates. But something happened a couple of nights ago that put my cancer in perspective (and even made me forget it for a while).

This is cooler than cool. My words won’t come anywhere close to communicating just how incredible this is.

Parker (my oldest son) gave his heart to Jesus Tuesday night.

And I thought I was gonna bust at the seams.

He began a conversation with Shanda that evening – about his naptime of all things. “I think Jesus was tugging at my heart” he said. Shanda asked him what he did and he said, “Well, I prayed and asked him if he would please go away.”

Not only is that funny, but I took it to be an authentic sign of conviction. How many of us, if we were honest enough, would pray the same thing?

I noticed the conversation going on so I joined in. The next 20 minutes or so were spent talking to Parker and answering questions about sin, heaven, and Jesus being the boss.

Then he said, “I think maybe Jesus is tugging at my heart again right now. Can I pray and ask him into my heart?”

It’s a good thing my wife was rock solid as these events unfolded, because by now I was nearly a blubbering idiot.

Parker prayed the most sincere prayer you could expect from any 6 year old. Among a few other things, he prayed, “Jesus, I love you and I want you to come into my heart. I know it’s junky and I want you to clean it up. Thank you for dying on the cross for our sins. I love you and want you to be my boss.”

He was beaming afterwards. So was Shanda and I – maybe just not as openly. I was so proud of him that I felt guilty about it.

Cancer? What cancer? When your son gives his life to Jesus, nothing else matters as much. Give me another day and I’ll post some updates, though.

GIG #1

2008-08-03T19:52:00.002-05:00

I'm thankful for my home and my own bed.

This is not the GIG I had in mind for my first entry. But I'm tired. Really tired. This happened after round 1, too. It looks like the first few days home are after my hospitalizations are going to be marked by some serious fatigue. I'm fighting nausea, too, but they make good meds for that.

I might best explain my fatigue like the kind you might get with the flu - just without the aches and chills. I'm worn out and tired. The littlest things seem to zap whatever reserves of strength I have. So I sleep a lot.

Be thankful with me that I have a comfortable home and cozy bed.

GIG Notes

2008-08-01T17:01:00.001-05:00

God is good.

Shanda and I talk often about how much we have to be thankful for, even in the midst of this evil cancer and nasty chemotherapy. And it has been good spiritual exercise for me to focus on God’s goodness during these times. In Philippians 4:8, Paul reminds us, “Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.”

So I have decided to write “GIG” notes relatively often. Your other suggestions for titles were very good. (Andy, I almost went with “Doxologies” or “Dox Notes” because I thought it would make me sound like I knew some theology or something.) But “GIG” is a simple and practical reminder (mostly to myself) that I have so much to be thankful for. God is indeed good.

However, when I declare that God is good, I am making a declaration, not an argument. It is a statement of fact, not of logical analysis. It is proclamation of faith, not an evaluation of character. Is that confusing?

If each of my GIG notes was nothing but blank space, God would still be good. If I my faith in Jesus brought nothing but earthly pain and misery, God would still be good. If I was completely blind to all things true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, good, and excellent, God would still be good. So my GIG notes are not to be read as lawyer’s arguments. God’s goodness evidence #1, God’s goodness evidence #2, God’s goodness evidence #3….. see, we conclude from the evidence that God actually is good. Rather, my GIG notes are like my field notes on a journey. I want to document evidence of God’s goodness that I already know is there.

That may not make a lick of sense to anyone else but me. But that’s OK – God is still good.

My first GIG note is already half-written in my head. I wish I could share it with you now, actually. But I’ve gotten good news today – I am being discharged home from round 2 this evening. So I am getting my things together and waiting for the doctor to stop by. Yes, yes, I know getting to go home counts as a GIG. It just wasn’t the GIG I had planned on writing. These 5 days at the hospital have been uneventful – and let me tell you that’s exactly what you hope for during chemo. I’m looking forward to time with my family, seeing my boys reaction to my shiny bald head, eating some regular (non-hospital) food, and sleeping in my own bed. I can’t express enough my gratitude for your support and prayers!!

God is good!

More Seriously...

2008-07-30T23:15:00.001-05:00

There are more pressing matters over which I should be blogging than tattoos, Levitical laws, and Protestant/Catholic sensitivities. I can assure you that on the 2nd floor oncology unit of Conway Regional Medical Center, where too many people are facing life and death every day, these topics are uncommon.

Thank you for your continued interest in and prayers for me. I have been in very good condition. If I haven’t declared it boldly enough lately – let me do so again now: GOD IS GOOD. Since round 2 of my chemotherapy began, I have had no debilitating symptoms. My appetite and energy have been good. I have slept better than previously. I have had good visits with friends and family. I have not had to fight nausea, serious headaches, moodiness, or pain as I did at times in the first round. And my heart has been steady and strong! I had another spinal tap today that went very smoothly. I am well aware that very problematic symptoms could be in my future – but I am checking off each day one at a time – and recent days for me have been very good.

I have been contemplating the many things for which I should be and am extremely thankful. There is a long list by now – and I’ve decided that I should try to share some of them with you soon. I need some creative help, though. (This is where audience participation would be helpful!) I would like to title the “thankful” posts with something catchy. I thought of the passage “Rejoice in the Lord Always, Again I Say Rejoice” and came up with the “RITLAAISR posts.” But that’s obviously ridiculous. Ephesians 5:20 says to give thanks always for all things – but the “TAFAT posts” is equally weird, isn’t it?

Help me with a title, and I’ll start sharing about God’s wonderful provisions in my life – some of them huge and magnificent, some of them small and quirky -- but all of them worth mentioning in order to praise the King.

My Tattoo

2008-07-30T21:06:00.003-05:00

Here it is.

10 points to each person who recognizes the greatness of this image.

100 points to each person who offers an equally inspirational tattoo possibility.

Death, Be Not Proud

2008-07-29T21:28:00.003-05:00

I’m not really a poetry kind of guy. It’s not that I don’t like poetry….. well, ok, it actually is. I’m just not smart enough to follow poems that are more complicated than the roses are red variety. But I’m not so uncultured that I can’t appreciate some poems. Below is the first one with which I ever found a significant connection. I remember discussing this poem in a college class – slowly dissecting it, lingering over the metaphors, and feeling the gravity of its words. It was a meaningful experience for me – someone who still can barely put together a haiku. This remains my favorite poem of all time.

I’m not going to analyze the poem for you. Not yet, anyway. I challenge you to chew on it, sift through it, and discuss it with someone else. I’ll revisit the poem in another post someday.

Death, be not proud – John Donne (1572-1631)

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Ink

2008-07-28T21:10:00.003-05:00

Round 2 started today - all is good so far.

I've discovered that I have a odd but growing desire to get a tattoo after I kick this cancer.

Any suggestions? I'll take them under advisement until such time my wife vetos the whole matter.

Denials and Updates

2008-07-26T21:53:00.000-05:00

I apologize for the delay in posting recently. In this case, no news has been good news.

I had a very good week at home. Too good, perhaps. Once my white blood count was high enough, I was able to resume some normal activities.

Normal. Hmm.

I went to the office to work for an hour or two each day. I was able to pretend life was normal there for a while and that was good. Working at the office reminded me that there is a normal life out there waiting for me after all of this.

I went to Chili’s for some normal chicken fajita quesadillas.

I went to see “The Dark Knight.” The joker wasn’t normal, but my evening was.

I was able to just hang out and laugh with my wife and kids. That was very normal and very good.

I went to Larry’s Pizza for some abnormally good pizza.

And I’ve been living in denial a little bit. I avoided unpacking the rest of my stuff from the last trip to the hospital until today. Honestly, I’ve avoided blogging because blogging reminds me that something is wrong.

Round 2 of chemotherapy is scheduled to start on Monday morning, however, and reality is starting to set back in. I am feeling the weight of what could be a very long 6 months or so. Now that I have 1 round of chemo under my belt, I have a glimpse of what the next 7 rounds might look like – and in some ways I feel like I am mourning the loss of a normal life for a while.

I’ve got some blog posts percolating… some of which I am already looking forward to writing. Posts about God’s timing and God’s provision. Posts about thankfulness, perseverance, and toughness. Maybe another post about normalcy, too. And I’ll do better at updating the blog.

Thank you for your kind words and prayers.

Reality Check: After drafting these words (above) this afternoon, my hair has started to fall out tonight. We were expecting that to occur sometime, so it is weirdly normal.

On Sleep and Sovereignty

2008-07-22T11:35:00.005-05:00

I did not get much sleep during my first round of chemotherapy at the hospital. This is just a little ironic since the overwhelming majority of my time was spent in a bed. Here’s what I had to work with…. nurses constantly taking my vital signs and giving me medications, IV pumps beeping in my ear, using the bathroom every 45 minutes (from all the fluids in those beeping pumps), moaning patients next-door, tubes and wires running from my chest in all directions, 24 hour on-camera surveillance, scurrying personnel during the occasional code blue, and startling myself with my own snoring since I was always lying on my back. If that doesn’t paint a good picture, then think of being thrown into a large fish bowl and cabled down to a bed that looks more like an instrument of torture than a Tempur-Pedic. Your background noise is more annoying than a Nancy Grace marathon and you have the constant urge to pee. Night-night.

I teach my psychology students about the importance of sleep. In fact, study after study has demonstrated how sleep relates to other areas of life. The third of your life that you should spend sleeping has profound effects on the other two-thirds of your life; in terms of alertness, energy, mood, body weight, perception, memory, thinking, reaction time, productivity, creativity, and safety. And this is just a short list.

I’ve often wondered, however, why God would design us so that a third of our lives would need to be spent sleeping. Seriously – that’s a huge part of our life.

I don’t have a full answer to this question. But I had a significant moment one night in the hospital that I thought I should share. I couldn’t until now because it was too difficult to discuss even with Shanda until recently. Since I’ve said transparency is the name of the game, here it goes.

You’ve read by now that I was moved to the Critical Care Unit for a while because my heart rate had dipped into the mid thirties. (Normal heart rate is 60-80 beats per minute, by the way). I have to confess that I was more than just a little nervous about going to sleep my first night in CCU. My heart rate was being constantly monitored, and the number was just above my head. I could check it anytime I wanted –and I checked it often. As long as I was awake, I could figure out ways to get my heart rate up – tense my muscles, stretch, get out of bed, breathe fast, hold my breath, etc. Honestly, I was unsettled about “letting go” and sleeping. My heart rate was hovering in the 40s I had no assurance my heart rate wouldn’t drop again to even more critical levels if I let myself drift to sleep.

No man likes to admit this, but I had a small crisis that night. I was scared.

Then something remarkable happened – something hard to verbalize, so hang with me. Through a few of my tears that night, I offered a pretty feeble but sincere prayer: “Lord, I gave my heart to You years ago and You saved me. Tonight, I give my heart to You again – literally – and I trust You with it. Make it beat however You want.”

I surrendered control. I gave up my heartbeat. I even gave up my family. I thought of Shanda and the boys and turned them over to Jesus. I visualized Jesus’ hands holding and massaging my heart. And I slept.

Over the next few days, I reflected on that experience and on sleep in general. I wonder if God designed us to need sleep as a way of reminding us of our dependence on Him. We work ourselves like crazy during the day to maintain some semblance of control over our lives. But each night we have to give it all up. For those of us who claim that God is in control, going to sleep each night is an opportunity to thoughtfully practice what we preach.

It’s not that we shouldn’t work hard and make good choices each day. We should. We should work to take care of our families and faithfully carry out whatever tasks God has given us. But at the end of every day we have a chance to give it all back to the One who is ultimately in control – and truly find rest.

One Down...

2008-07-18T21:44:00.002-05:00

.... seven more rounds to go.

There's so much to say. First, I can't even begin to explain how important your emails, phone calls, and blog comments have been to me. I have not been able to respond to everyone individually - though I wish I could - but each one has been a blessing to me. Thank you! Please continue - your words do my heart good.

Speaking of my heart.... Ugh. My first round of chemo was thrown for a loop when my heart rate dipped into the mid 30s. We still aren't sure what the story is, but let me tell you that hospital staff get a little frenzied when you start having cardiac trouble AND you are on chemo at the same time.

I was able to complete my first round of chemo, just with a few delays. Other than the low heart rate, my heart seems good and strong. (Well, there is also the issue of me passing out about 4 times in the oncology clinic, but I'll save that embarrassing story for a later post. For now, let's just say it is the weirdest thing to be sleepy/dizzy one minute and waking up with 6 nurses and a doctor in front of you screaming your name the next. Sheesh.)

The overwhelming majority of my time in the hospital was spent in bed, though I assure you the hospital is NOT a place of rest. So I've been doing some thinking, as you might expect. Hopefully, I'll be able to share some of my thoughts with you soon. My next post might be about my developing theology of sleep - just in case you are interested.

My condition now is good. I am fatigued a good bit of the time. But I had a good appetite today, was able to play with the boys some, and I haven't lost my hair. Yet.

For the next week or so, I'll be going into the clinic often and as soon as my white blood cell count is high enough, they'll start round two of my chemo. I am so encouraged by your thoughts and prayers. And I have so much to be thankful for. Please continue to pray for Shanda, the boys, and our families. This is tough for them.

Will write more soon!

Days 3 and 4

2008-07-14T11:34:00.001-05:00

Just a short update today… I’ve discovered that blogging in the past was an exercise of leisure and relaxation. It was a break from otherwise busy days. Here at the hospital, it is nothing but leisure and relaxation (sort of), and when I have time to do something else, blogging isn’t my highest priority. I want to DO something – something more active, I suppose.

I’ve had a detour with my treatment. Apparently my heart rate has been very low the past few days when I’m resting. In fact, on Saturday night they gave me Atropine to stimulate my heart. And since some of the chemo meds can be a little hard on a person’s heart, they have moved me to the critical care unit at the hospital. I’M NOT IN CRITICAL CONDITION. But this is the best place to continuously monitor my heart, especially while I’m taking some of the chemo meds.

For the praying types – here’s how you can pray. (Craig, figure out a way to keep yours from just bouncing off the walls, would you?)

I don’t like detours. They had to delay some treatment while they figured out my heart thing. I just want to get the chemo going. Pray for patience, please. And pray my heart gets its act together.

I don’t like the critical care unit. The staff here is wonderful, but there is a very strict visiting policy and it gets lonely. In addition, this unit is for very sick people. The rooms and services aren’t designed for ambulating and active patients.

Finally, I’ve been rather weepy the past 2 days. This isn’t like me at all. Our best guess is that this is a combination of several things – not the least being some sleep deprivation and the steroids which can wreak havoc on emotions. Please pray for mood stability and for my sense of humor to return a bit more. I need it.

Thanks to you all!

Sharp Points and No Point

2008-07-12T15:38:00.003-05:00

Had a lumbar puncture with chemotherapy today.

Translation: I had a spinal tap. It went well.

1 down.
15 more to go.

I wish I would have asked my doctor if the numbers on his instruments went all the way to 11. But I'm sure he wouldn't have gotten it.

My First Chemotherapy Epiphany

2008-07-11T21:43:00.004-05:00

Epiphany: 1): a usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something (2): an intuitive grasp of reality through something (as an event) usually simple and striking (3): an illuminating discovery, realization, or disclosure. (Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

When faced with cancer, I am sure most people find themselves reordering their priorities. Some things seem much more important than before, some things much less so.

I made a sudden reordering of priorities today as my boss and a co-working were visiting me at the hospital. We were having a wonderful conversation. I don't really remember what it was, but I'm certain we were exegeting some Scripture or singing some hymns or something. A nurse’s aide entered the room and quietly took my vitals while we were talking and singing praises– there was no problem. Then he asked how my bowels were moving – now there was awkward silence.

During the next few moments I had to decipher at light speed the exact nature of this question. Moving? Moving where? To behind my clavicles? To around my lungs? Where can they go? There’s not really much room for them to go anywhere. So having decided he wanted to know about my bathroom habits, I next had to decide how much information to share in front of these esteemed gentlemen.

Eternity lapses.

Yep, Gary and Chris… I poop. I pooped at 4:00am and then pooped again at 9:00 or 10:00am. Well, I don’t really know how much poop, Mr. Nurse’s Aide Man. It wasn’t much poop either time, I don’t guess. I mean, kept track of the times of my poops but not really the volume of my poops. Sorry, dude. But rest assured – I definitely pooped.

Today’s epiphany: Talking about poop in front of your boss and co-workers isn’t quite as humiliating as you might think.

Why?

2008-07-09T14:24:00.002-05:00

So tomorrow I begin chemotherapy to rid my body of cancer. I have a multitude of thoughts swirling in my head, some of which I will write about at a later date. But today, I thought I’d try to verbalize (mostly for my own benefit) some thoughts I have about the “why” question.

Shanda has asked me why I thought this might be happening to us. I told her I didn’t know. I haven’t struggled with this question as much as I thought I might. I am not going to worry about the “why” question because I don’t yet have a good answer for the “why not” question. Why shouldn’t this be happening to me? I have no answer.

Shanda and I did get an encouraging email this week about the “why” question, though. A friend had been reading about Jesus ministering to a widow and raising her son from the dead. (Please go read Luke 7:11-16.)

Here’s what Beth Moore had to say about this situation….

"Jesus ran into a woman in hopeless despair and just reacted with what came most naturally to Him- healing mercy. I believe we possibly have a small glimpse into what Christ would do in every one of our despairing situations if a greater plan was not at stake. I believe what comes most naturally to Christ every time He encounters need is to instantly fix it. Is it possible He exercises great restraint to work any other way in the face of devastation? I think so.

A plan of profound importance exists that sometimes overrides the miracle we so desperately desire. But I am comforted to know that instantaneous healing and resurrection power come even more naturally to our Christ than waiting and working through long but necessary processes. The biggest reason why I can trust God in the sovereignty of God is because I am so utterly convinced of the sweetness of God."

Hmm. “A plan of profound importance…”

I don’t think it is mere coincidence that I just taught a Sunday School lesson on what this plan might be. We have been discussing the story of Lazarus in our group for a few weeks. Perhaps you remember the story (in John 11:1-44). Jesus’ good friend is sick and dying. Mary and Martha send word to him to come, but he doesn’t. He delays. By the time he gets there, Lazarus is dead and more than a few folks are asking their own versions of “why” questions. In this story, Jesus repeatedly explains that His actions are for the sake of their faith. (See verses 14-15, 25-26, 40, and 41-42 for at least four such occasions.)

Perhaps Jesus’ first inclination is to rush to his friend and heal him immediately. But He delays and allows Lazarus to die because of something greater – the faith of those who knew and loved Lazarus.

Perhaps Jesus’ first inclination is to rush to my side and heal me quickly and painlessly, if not miraculously. But maybe He’ll delay because of something greater – my faith and the faith of those around me.

So as I start my journey tomorrow – a long 6 months or so, spending a third of my time in the hospital, fighting off fatigue and pain, wishing for time with my friends and family, and mourning the loss of a “normal” life – I cherish your prayers. But in addition to these temporary and earthly concerns (as valid as they are), please pray for more eternal and spiritual matters. Pray that I will grow in my own faith. Pray that I will be an encouragement to other believers. Pray that non-Christians will be drawn to Jesus.

Thank you!

Here We Go

2008-07-07T23:18:00.002-05:00

I don’t know who it was, but somebody out there heard me lament the waiting process and decided to pray that I just wouldn’t have to wait. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that – I’m a spiritual idiot sometimes. Whoever you are – thanks! My oncologist called this morning and asked for us to come for our consultation this afternoon. Pardon the brevity of this update – our heads are still swimming and we have tons to do now.

My cancer is Burkitt’s Lymphoma. It is an aggressive form of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.

My cancer is in stage 1, meaning we caught it early. This is very good.

My cure rate is 85-90%. This is also very good.

As far as cancer news goes, I’m not sure it could have been much better.

But here’s where it gets ugly. My chemotherapy and immunotherapy (R-hyper-CVAD) will begin later this week at Conway Regional Hospital. My regimen will consist of 8 rounds of chemo. Each round will begin with 5 days of inpatient treatment. They will be bombarding my body will all sorts of stuff nearly around the clock for 5 days. After my 5 days in the hospital, I’ll be released home. After a couple of weeks (give or take a few days) my body should recover enough to start the next round. For those doing the math – that’s about 6 months of chemo, in and out of the hospital.

The toll it’s going to take on my body is not going to be pleasant. And my time away from family, friends, work, hobbies, etc is going to be difficult to handle. But I’m gonna kick some Burkitt butt with this chemo and that’s what matters the most.

I’ll post more later. Thank you all!

Dave Barry's Colonoscopy

2008-07-07T07:00:00.001-05:00

Laughter is good medicine. And I need some good medicine before I start taking the kind that is gonna kick my tail. So I’m offering an article by Dave Barry below.

(1) This is copyright material – so I’ll keep it up here until the Miami Herald tells me to take it down. Maybe they’ll give me some latitude if I give them some love: You can find the original article here and other Dave Barry articles here. (2) Dave Barry's experience was nearly exactly like mine. He's just a lot funnier than I am - and I wish I could write like him. (3) MoviPrep is of the devil.

OK. You turned 50. You know you're supposed to get a colonoscopy. But you haven't. Here are your reasons:

1. You've been busy.

2. You don't have a history of cancer in your family.

3. You haven't noticed any problems.

4. You don't want a doctor to stick a tube 17,000 feet up your butt.

Let's examine these reasons one at a time. No, wait, let's not. Because you and I both know that the only real reason is No. 4. This is natural. The idea of having another human, even a medical human, becoming deeply involved in what is technically known as your ''behindular zone'' gives you the creeping willies.

I know this because I am like you, except worse. I yield to nobody in the field of being a pathetic weenie medical coward. I become faint and nauseous during even very minor medical procedures, such as making an appointment by phone. It's much worse when I come into physical contact with the medical profession. More than one doctor's office has a dent in the floor caused by my forehead striking it seconds after I got a shot.

In 1997, when I turned 50, everybody told me I should get a colonoscopy. I agreed that I definitely should, but not right away. By following this policy, I reached age 55 without having had a colonoscopy. Then I did something so pathetic and embarrassing that I am frankly ashamed to tell you about it.

What happened was, a giant 40-foot replica of a human colon came to Miami Beach. Really. It's an educational exhibit called the Colossal Colon, and it was on a nationwide tour to promote awareness of colo-rectal cancer. The idea is, you crawl through the Colossal Colon, and you encounter various educational items in there, such as polyps, cancer and hemorrhoids the size of regulation volleyballs, and you go, ''Whoa, I better find out if I contain any of these things,'' and you get a colonoscopy.

If you are as a professional humor writer, and there is a giant colon within a 200-mile radius, you are legally obligated to go see it. So I went to Miami Beach and crawled through the Colossal Colon. I wrote a column about it, making tasteless colon jokes. But I also urged everyone to get a colonoscopy. I even, when I emerged from the Colossal Colon, signed a pledge stating that I would get one.

But I didn't get one. I was a fraud, a hypocrite, a liar. I was practically a member of Congress.

Five more years passed. I turned 60, and I still hadn't gotten a colonoscopy. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I got an e-mail from my brother Sam, who is 10 years younger than I am, but more mature. The email was addressed to me and my middle brother, Phil. It said:

``Dear Brothers,

``I went in for a routine colonoscopy and got the dreaded diagnosis: cancer. We're told it's early and that there is a good prognosis that they can get it all out, so, fingers crossed, knock on wood, and all that. And of course they told me to tell my siblings to get screened. I imagine you both have.''

Um. Well.

First I called Sam. He was hopeful, but scared. We talked for a while, and when we hung up, I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis. Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, ``HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BUTT!''

I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called ''MoviPrep,'' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes -- and here I am being kind -- like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, ''a loose watery bowel movement may result.'' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, ''What if I spurt on Andy?'' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the hell the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was Dancing Queen by Abba. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, Dancing Queen has to be the least appropriate.

''You want me to turn it up?'' said Andy, from somewhere behind me.

''Ha ha,'' I said.

And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, Abba was shrieking ``Dancing Queen! Feel the beat from the tambourine . . .''

. . . and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

But my point is this: In addition to being a pathetic medical weenie, I was a complete moron. For more than a decade I avoided getting a procedure that was, essentially, nothing. There was no pain and, except for the MoviPrep, no discomfort. I was risking my life for nothing.

If my brother Sam had been as stupid as I was -- if, when he turned 50, he had ignored all the medical advice and avoided getting screened -- he still would have had cancer. He just wouldn't have known. And by the time he did know -- by the time he felt symptoms -- his situation would have been much, much more serious. But because he was a grown-up, the doctors caught the cancer early, and they operated and took it out. Sam is now recovering and eating what he describes as ''really, really boring food.'' His prognosis is good, and everybody is optimistic, fingers crossed, knock on wood, and all that.

Which brings us to you, Mr. or Mrs. or Miss or Ms. Over-50-And-Hasn't-Had-a-Colonoscopy. Here's the deal: You either have colo-rectal cancer, or you don't. If you do, a colonoscopy will enable doctors to find it and do something about it. And if you don't have cancer, believe me, it's very reassuring to know you don't. There is no sane reason for you not to have it done.

I am so eager for you to do this that I am going to induce you with an Exclusive Limited Time Offer. If you, after reading this, get a colonoscopy, let me know by sending a self-addressed stamped envelope to Dave Barry Colonoscopy Inducement, The Miami Herald, 1 Herald Plaza, Miami, FL 33132. I will send you back a certificate, signed by me and suitable for framing if you don't mind framing a cheesy certificate, stating that you are a grown-up who got a colonoscopy. Accompanying this certificate will be a square of limited-edition custom-printed toilet paper with an image of Miss Paris Hilton on it. You may frame this also, or use it in whatever other way you deem fit.

But even if you don't want this inducement, please get a colonoscopy. If I can do it, you can do it. Don't put it off. Just do it.

Be sure to stress that you want the non-Abba version.

Being Transparent is Healthy

2008-07-04T16:26:00.005-05:00

At least that’s what I tell my students. Are there limits to this transparency? I’m sure there are. What should be the limits of my own transparency in the midst of my cancer? I’ve lost some objectivity and I'm not so sure. So I’m following my gut here – which is terribly ironic since it is my gut that has gotten me into this trouble. But I’m trying to be as open and honest as possible here on my blog these days.

I know I’ve promised not to make this all about me. And someday, as things settle down, I’ll reduce the cancer posts and write on other stuff. But enough of you have asked for updates that I feel compelled to keep ya’ll current. (And honestly, I cherish the idea that so many people are thinking of and praying for us.)

We are in a holding pattern until around Thursday next week. I’ve had a slew of tests, exams, pokes, and prods. And I have a few more to go. All of the results will come in around mid-week and then I’ll have another consultation with my oncologist. I am looking forward to that day in nervous anticipation – as I assume that’s the day I will get some numbers; something concrete to wrap my mind around. I’ll get the stage of my cancer (how far it has progressed) and I’ll get a cure rate. I want to know (1) my stage number and (2) the likelihood that I’m going to survive. I want the numbers. And waiting for them is hard. So if you are looking for specific ways to pray in the next few days – pray for patience and peace and we continue to live with the unknown and we have to wait.

And pray for this…..

This is hard enough to hear rattle around in my head – let alone verbalize it to Shanda (which I’ve done) or write about it on my blog (which I’m now doing). So bear with me.

I know that I can handle anything that happens. Seriously. I’m in God’s care. I can handle the pain and side effects that will occur as a result of my chemotherapy, which is probably going to be pretty brutal. Maybe you’ve already read my take on these things: I don’t deserve any different. Others have suffered incredibly more than I will. God loves me and nothing can separate me from His love. It will be hard, sometimes very hard, but I can handle it. That’s not self-centered pride (I don’t think). That’s the assurance and hope I have in Christ.

I also know that if treatment does not go well and I don’t make it – the alternative is being with Jesus. See? I’m going to be OK.

But I’m having a hard time thinking of my family – particularly my sons. Shanda is a strong woman and while it would be incredibly hard for her, she would be OK, too. But I’m struggling with the idea of my sons growing up without a father. If I let those thoughts linger - for even a moment (like now) - the weight of them nearly crushes me. Even though I know in my head that God loves my family far more than I do and would take care of them, in my heart I can’t bear the thought of my sons growing up without their dad. Please focus your prayers as I try to live out Philippians 4:8 and as I seek the promise of Philippians 4:6-7.

Ugh. That wasn’t fun. But it was transparent. Your prayers are a lifeline for me. Thank you all!

Breaking News

2008-07-01T23:01:00.002-05:00

Thanks again to everyone who has commented or emailed. I appreciate your kind words more than you know.

Here’s a brief update….

My cancer is one of two different subtypes of B cell lymphoma. I like having a name for it. I now know what I’m battling against.

I also get to keep my guts. The oncologist today said that colon surgery is not necessary. That’s the good news.

The bad news is that I am in for some pretty rough chemo starting soon. (Probably Hyper-CVAD for the curious.)

While my oncologist was very helpful, I didn’t get as much news as I would have liked today. He still doesn’t know what stage my cancer is in. And that means I don’t know the exact success rate of treatment. We will know all of that within the next week or so after I have a battery of more tests.

Speaking of tests – I have a bone marrow biopsy Wednesday. I hear those aren’t any fun.

That’s the short story. I don’t really know what to make of these changes yet. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it all. I’ll post more soon.

Thanks again for your encouragement and prayers!

Nailed Down

2008-07-01T09:00:00.000-05:00

Nailed down.
Written in blood.
Carved in stone.
Written on the bathroom stall with a sharpie.

OK. So that last metaphor wasn’t appropriate. But you get the idea.

I’m seeing the oncologist today and I’m preparing myself for what he may have to say. I imagine he will be much more specific than my other doctors – more specific about the type of cancer, about the course of treatment, and about prognosis and life-expectancy. The less specific the details were until now, the more I could just assume that all was good. But I’m a little unsettled about what I might hear today. So I’m driving some stakes into the ground. No matter what news I get – I know without any doubt or reservation...

(1) God is in control and He loves me.
(2) God loves my family more than I do.
(3) Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from God’s love (Romans 8:38-39).

Thanks to all who have commented and emailed their encouraging words. I have not been able to repsond to everyone - but please know I appreciate you all.

A Place for Everything and Everything in its Place

2008-06-30T11:03:00.004-05:00

- I have cancer. And…..

- I have Shanda, a strong, beautiful wife who knows all my faults and weaknesses and loves me anyway.
- I have Parker, a 6 year old son who loves to read, play soccer, and who looks a lot like me. He also sometimes tells me I’m the best dad in the whole world.
- I have Tanner, a 3 year old son who is a talking machine and who reminded me yesterday that “we can’t see God but He is still in our hearts.”
- I have Cooper, a 2 month old son who breaks out with the biggest smiles at me when I smell his toes and make faces at how stinky they are.

- I have parents and a sister who love me, pray for me constantly, and who worry too much.
- I have a Mom that wears her heart on her sleeve, who passed along to me the legacy of making up my own words when my mind works faster than my lips, and who cries at coffee commercials.
- I have a Dad who is a dreamer, who loves going to the movies with me, and who passed along to me a love for music.
- I have a sister who is sensitive towards others who need help and who is firm with people who should know better when they get stupid.
- I have great memories of growing up as a kid.

- I have a small home full of big love, loud noise, and lots of laughter.
- I have a yard with beautiful trees and lousy grass.
- I have two cars that get us where we need to go and keep us safe.
- I have over 500 CDs
- I have 1 country music CD
- I have good taste in music, but not as good as Craig.
- I have too many clothes and too much stuff.

- I have a good education.
- I have delusions that I am better at basketball, softball, and racquetball than I really am.
- I have more friends than I should.
- I have Scott, who never fails to check how I am doing, who knows it is OK to find the humor in my situation, and who once said “that Jesus – he is a smart man.”
- I have Jenni, who does, um, nearly perfect impersonations, who sometimes snorts when she laughs, who loves Big John’s at Larry's like I do, and who is always willing to watch our sons when we need her.
- I have among my friends many Christian brothers scattered all over the United States that I know would drop what they were doing and find me if they knew I needed them.

- I have a caring church family.
- I have a pastor that is wise and who takes his job as a shepherd seriously.
- I have students who love the Lord and who want to make a difference in the world.
- I have coworkers and supervisors who appreciate and support my work.
- I have an office that is bigger than Medenwald’s.

- I have Jesus.

- I have a life that is better than I deserve.

Life Takes Less Guts

2008-06-28T10:14:00.000-05:00

I’m a little uncomfortable making my condition the focus of too many blog posts. But several people have asked that I keep the blog updated periodically so they can know how to pray, etc. I have appreciated those encouraging words and prayers so I suppose in the short-term, as things are more urgent, I’ll post on my condition more often than usual. This means the content of Nothing New will be taking a detour from normal content more frequently.

This week has been chaotic, to say the least. Please read my last post and the comments that follow to get up to speed. After that, here’s the latest: The preliminary results are in from the colonoscopy biopsies. I do have a tumor that is cancerous. It is not the “normal” type of colon cancer, however. It is a lymphoma. Lymphomas can occur just about anywhere in the body, really. Mine just happened to show up in the colon. It is rare to occur this way, though. From what Shanda and I can tell from a little research, only about 0.5% of all colon cancers are lymphomas.

As such, things are a little up in the air about what is the standard treatment procedure. I will very likely undergo surgery to remove the part of my colon with the tumor – early next week. Then I will likely receive chemotherapy after that. This is all just a bit tentative, though, as my GI doctor and my surgeon have asked that I see an oncologist this week to get his opinion on the best course of treatment.

That’s the short story. Thanks for all who have offered kind and encouraging words the last week. And thank you for your prayers. They are much appreciated. I’ll update again as it seems appropriate.

Life Takes Guts

2008-06-25T09:42:00.002-05:00

In less than an hour, I’ll be heading to the doctor. Without sharing all my symptoms, which would be unnecessary and embarrassing, I ended up yesterday seeing my doctor for some gastrointestinal issues. He performed an awkward procedure (one that my friend Scott says is “not cool”) and then sent me to the hospital for a CT scan of my abdomen.

I could have one of several conditions – inflammatory bowel disease, Chron’s disease, diverticulitis, or even colon polyps or colon cancer.

I’ll know more in less than an hour.

My wife asked my yesterday if I was nervous about getting the results. I told her no and it was an honest answer, I think.

There are two thoughts that have kept me grounded yesterday and today. These aren’t fleeting thoughts – I consistently have these thoughts whenever I face potentially bad news. As it relates to my situation today, I believe… (1) Whatever the condition is, even if it turns out to be worse than I suspect, I have no reason to think I’m entitled to anything better. It’s not like I should be exempt from bad things. Nothing I’ve done in life gives me a pass from sad or painful conditions. In fact, if anything I deserve far worse than I get. (2) Whatever the condition is, there are plenty of others who have persevered in the face of situations monumentally worse than mine.

I suppose I should have a more “spiritual” response. Maybe I should have some important Scripture passage that I’ve memorized and repeat over and over to give me some peace. Perhaps I should be able to say I’ve heard God’s still, small voice and therefore I have no reason to worry. But I don’t and I haven’t.

So here I am – getting news in about 30 minutes. Why am I blogging right now – at this moment? I suppose I just wanted to verbalize in a more permanent way some of the thoughts I’ve been having. Maybe I’ll need to come back and revisit my own words to keep my head on straight. Maybe they will be an anchor for me in upcoming days.

Here’s one more thing I have already decided. No matter what the condition is, I will NOT let it define me. I will not be known as a diverticulitis-guy. I refuse to be known as that professor with colon cancer. I will not be thought of as the Sunday School teacher who is always dealing with his polyps. My life will not revolve around or focus on my ailment. It will not become a part of my identity. I have a family that needs me too much to let it interfere. I have too much to invest in my students to let it distract me. I have too many friends that enrich my life to let it become a stumbling block. I’ll post an update this afternoon, but you won’t read much about my condition here in upcoming days and months. Nor will I talk about it too much in my conversations. Whatever it is – even if it is really bad – it isn’t significant enough to take center stage in my world.

I’m off now. I think maybe I’ll come back and read this post later and wonder why I was being so overly dramatic. In fact, I would go back and edit some of the drama out of my words, but I don’t have time. They’ll have to stand for now.

Random Observations from the Past 2 Weeks

2008-06-15T23:07:00.005-05:00

Have you ever heard of a baby’s umbilical cord wrapping around his/her neck during delivery? It usually isn’t that big of a deal as doctors know how to unravel that thing in a heartbeat. But it DOES have to be addressed very quickly. Because the cord that is designed to sustain life can actually become a noose, strangling the life out of a baby. I’ve discovered that apron strings are like that, too. Some parents choke the life out of their kids with their apron strings. I’m thankful for a wife that doesn’t do that.

If you use the word “crap” in a pseudo-whisper during a funeral service eulogy, you might get a few chuckles from those in attendance. And you might hear the pastor from his little pew say, “I heard that!” – getting ever more chuckles. (Thanks for the laughs Grandma.)

I have often told my students that if you say anything with enough confidence, people will believe you. I have proven this false. If you go on a father/son fishing trip, you better know your angling lingo. If someone asks, “What are you fishin’ with?” and you say, “oh, you know, some spinner croppy with weighted jelly jigs,” real fishermen will know you are full of stink bait no matter how confident you say it.

The best father’s day present is hearing your kids say, “Dad, you are the best daddy ever.”

I’m going to be taking a break from blogging for a couple of weeks this summer. Please come back and visit then! You might want to visit the blogs I read on a relatively regular basis – see links at the right. Be sure to check out Craig’s latest post in particular to give you some perspective on father’s day.

See you in a couple of weeks!

One Less Reader

2008-06-03T23:55:00.004-05:00

I lost a blog reader Tuesday morning.

Jean Irma New (1924-2008) went to be with Jesus.

She was my last living grandparent. We loved her and will miss her very much. And we will hold on to some very fond memories of her. For me, they are memories like some of these…..

Playing untold numbers of games with her as a kid – mostly Scrabble and Boggle. The Scrabble game was the deluxe edition, with ridges to keep tiles in place on a turntable board. It was only the best Scrabble for Grandma. I don’t think a deluxe edition of Boggle existed, but Grandma did have to line the inside of the lid with felt to reduce the racket of the cubes bouncing around. I don’t know if Grandma ever went out of her way to let me win games – but it never mattered. She was spending time with me and instilling in me an appreciation for words.

Spending summer days with her – playing Old Maid and swimming at the pool of whichever apartment complex she called home at the time.

Periodically receiving from her some really odd gifts. Like for my 21st birthday – a special turning-of-age celebration for many young men – when she presented me with a boxed set of Hickory Farms summer sausage and smoked cheese. Or like the awful Pierre Cardin cologne (that smelled like brussel spouts if I remember correctly) that she gave me one Christmas curiously shrinkwrapped inside a coffee mug – only to have her buy me the exact same cologne and mug again the very next Christmas.

And speaking of Christmas, I have fond memories of spending nearly every Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with her. We would pick her up from work or home and she would stay the night with us. She would join in as my sister and I always begged to open just one Christmas present on Christmas Eve. And she was usually good to accept or pass along any designated gag gifts (usually a coconut head like this one or crocheted smiley face) whenever it was her turn.

All these times (and others) with Grandma were great times. She was a wonderful lady to be around. She did have a knack for saying and doing some of the darndest things, though.

Like claiming she had never had a headache in her life. Ever.

Like announcing that Kung Fu was her favorite television show.

Like trying to walk smooth through a plate glass door at a store – colliding with quite a racket and drawing a little blood on her face – and then complaining that the store owner kept his glass doors too clean.

Like suggesting to Shanda and I that there was a “way we could be sure to have a boy” the next time we tried to get pregnant – only to be pretty embarrassed when I openly asked her to elaborate.

Like often laughing so hard that she would start coughing and have to wave her hand down at us to stop just so she could catch her breath.

Like abruptly changing perfectly normal conversations at the oddest of times and to the oddest of things – to Meerkat Manor or some other show she had been watching recently.

Like proudly purchasing Zamfir cassettes and making us listen to the pan flute over dinner. Seriously. Zamfir. Come to think of it, I think she may have had some Boxcar Willie, too.

In addition to these events, I remember some of the ways in which Grandma has influenced me. She had a hand in shaping me into the person I am today. From listening to her stories as a nurse on a drug/alcohol inpatient unit, I think I learned something about being both merciful and firm with people who are hurting and need help. I’m sure some of my stubbornness (and my general reluctance to ever admit I’m wrong) comes from Grandma. From her I learned to prefer real butter over margarine and to generously apply pepper to most of my foods. From her I learned to appreciate Peanuts comic strips and all things Norman Rockwell.

Grandma, we are glad for your homegoing, but will miss you dearly. I’ll hold on to these good memories and others until we see each other again.

Spelling Lesson

2008-06-02T09:24:00.003-05:00

Who knew you had to be careful letting your 6 year old watch the National Spelling Bee on television? Imagine the reaction in my house after this scene (below). Oh boy. I'm just glad Parker had a couple of days to forget what he heard - otherwise I'm sure this would have been part of his school or church vocabulary the next day.

(Disclaimer: Crude language ahead. View at your own discretion.)

Counseling Moses?

2008-05-29T22:23:00.004-05:00

People often come to Christian counselors feeling lost. As they are struggling with depression, anxiety, traumatic events, relationship problems, addictions and more, they feel distant from God. Some (but certainly not all) are keenly aware of this separation and are desperately seeking God in the midst of their pain and hardships. But they just can’t find the connection they are looking for on their own – so they come to a Christian counselor for help.

And good Christian counselors are trained in helping clients find God in the midst of their trouble. We search Scripture with them. We pray with them. We encourage other spiritual disciplines. We do try to help clients change how they are thinking, feeling, and acting with all sorts of various methods and techniques. But all along the way, we try to help our clients meet God.

Last Sunday, my pastor used Exodus 33 in his message. This chapter (along with the next) is about Moses meeting God and it got my wheels to turning. (Look out – the psychology guy is doing theology again!)

Moses had just been given some very troubling news. God told Moses to take the people to the Promised Land, but that He was not going to go with them. The people were such a stiff-necked people, God just might destroy them along the way if He were with them.

So Moses becomes distressed. He pleads with God and God decides He will go with Moses and the people after all. Then Moses makes another request – he wants to meet God. “Show me your glory,” he says. And God responds in a fascinating way. He agrees to let His goodness pass in front of Moses and agrees to proclaim His name in Moses’ presence. But God will not let Moses see His face “because no one may see me and live.” So God places Moses on a rock, covers Moses with His hand, and then lets Moses see His back as He passes by.

I think there may be several lessons in this story for any of us who are interested in helping others meet God in their distress.

(1) God is faithful to meet us where we are and communicate to us in ways we can understand. God is not a physical being, yet He manifests Himself in a physical way for the benefit of Moses. We read about God’s hand, voice, face, and back. Surely God is not limited to body parts like those of Moses. In fact, God is infinitely greater than Moses can comprehend. But these anthropomorphisms help communicate truths about God in ways that are actually understandable Moses and us. Like Moses, we will find God when we search for Him and He will communicate to us in ways we can understand. And like with Moses, He will meet us where we are.

(2) In our troubles, God’s answer to our plea to meet Him may not be the full answer. God prohibits Moses from seeing Him fully. They don’t get to sit and visit face-to-face. Moses doesn’t leave with a complete revelation of who God is. His meeting is incomplete. As God passes by, I have in mind a picture of Moses left in awe – a part of him fully satisfied, a part of him desperately longing for more, staring and reaching out for God as he watches only the back of Him pass into the distance. Like with Moses, God will answer our prayers to meet Him, but will do so in a way that leaves us wanting more of Him.

(3) Meeting God is serious business. At first, God refuses to go with His people because He may have destroyed them. He relents, but it is obvious that His presence can be dangerous. In fact, as we see with Moses, it can mean life and death. God declares that no one can see His face and live. It is no small thing to pray with and for our clients, asking God to meet them in their distress. Flippantly or carelessly asking to meet God is risky business. Like with Moses, God expects us to be thoughtful and earnest in our petitions and to respond in worship.

Those have been my thoughts this week in any case. I’ll trust that you all will be like the good Bereans as you read and test them against Scripture. I’m still improving my extemporaneous writing and these observations from Scripture may need some additional work.

Teaching an Old Dog

2008-05-28T19:06:00.001-05:00

(This picture is a little old. But it fits the post today.)

My blog gets personal a bit more often during the summer since I don’t write as many posts related to my CBC classes. If the personal stuff rates too high on your Velveeta scale, move on. I’ll post some other thoughts later.

On Monday this week, I had some revelations and learned some lessons about parenting 3 boys. Here they are in no particular order.

There are lots of things that my wife and I can get worked up about. I’m having to retrain the way I look at my world. I think there are some things I should just learn to expect and accept without too much undue stress.

- Our boys are going to break items in our house.
- Our boys are going to get themselves hurt.
- Our boys are going to fight and argue.
- Our boys are going run, jump, wrestle, yell, and create all sorts of chaos.

If I’m not careful, the majority of my time with the boys can become about rules. “Boys, here are the rules. Do you remember the rules? Why did you decide to break the rule about that? What is the rule about this? What should be the consequence for breaking the rules? Didn’t I just tell you the rule about doing that? Rules, rules, rules.” It dawned on me that I don’t want my sons to grow up with a father whose main worry is about rules. I detest legalistic Christianity, but I have found myself rather comfortable with legalistic parenting. *sigh.* I’m a little lost how to change that right now, but I’ll figure it out.

I also discovered a few things this Monday that keep me young.

- Riding bicycles with my sons on the bike trail.
- Chasing squirrels and birds on the bike trail.
- Throwing and skipping rocks in the creek.
- Playing Operation and checkers.
- Playing outside and barefoot in the rain.
- Watching leaves, sticks, and spit flow down the gutter and into the storm drain.
- Seeing mom roll her eyes when she hears we were following our spit down the gutter.

Shanda sometimes says I’m no different than one of the kids. She doesn’t mean it as a compliment, but that’s OK. It’s not so bad being a kid.

Who's Your Daddy? (part 2)

2008-05-23T14:05:00.004-05:00

In an earlier post, I summarized 10 common pictures of God, according to Larry Crabb. I concluded by stating I would share my own picture of God.

OK. So here it is. In my thoughtless and weaker moments, God seems to me to be a bit like Simon Cowell.

Eewww. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

If I’m not careful, I tend to look at life as a kind of performance – on stage for everyone to see. And while most of my friends and family appreciate me and are cheering me on, a few people in this world would like to see me fail. Everyone can have their own opinion of my life performance, but the only one that really matters is the judge. Like Simon, God seems to be from a foreign country sometimes. He says and does things that I don’t always understand. And while he is close in proximity to me, he seems rather impersonal. He expects perfection and as a rule he only offers corrections and rebukes. But every once in a while, if I do really well and I’m really lucky, God will smile and say nice things about my performance.

It’s not that I worry about my life being an audition to determine whether I make it into heaven or not. I am secure in my salvation. But I sometimes have the feeling that God looks down on my pitiful life, shaking His head at how much of a mess my performance is. When I’m careless, God seems to be nothing really more than my talent judge. Obviously, I’m thankful that God is much more than that.

Postscript: In a very weird coincidence, Tanner announced today that he thought “that guy” on American Idol looked like Jesus. We couldn’t tell if he meant Robert Downey, Jr. (“the guy that almost fell off the side of the stage”) or if he meant Ryan Seacrest (“that guy who announces the singers”). In either case, both Tanner and I have some issues with American Idol taking on too much spiritual significance in our lives. Good thing this season is over.

Who's Your Daddy? (part 1)

2008-05-20T09:48:00.002-05:00

Our Life Group at church (Conway’s First Baptist Church) has been working through lessons related to a book by Larry Crabb, The Papa Prayer. This topical study is a nice change of pace since we just finished a series of lessons by Beth Moore on the life of David where we studied ginormous portions of Scripture each week. I’m also digging this study because Crabb is one of my guys – he’s a Christian counselor. I even use one of his books in a class at CBC.

With apologies to Crabb, here’s the quickest summary of the book I can offer. Rather than praying for a bunch of stuff all the time (even if it’s good stuff), we ought to engage in more “relational prayer.” This is the kind of prayer that connects to God on a much more authentic and personal level.

In a recent lesson, Crabb encouraged us to take a good look at our picture of God. When we think of God and when we pray to Him, exactly who are we praying to? When we direct our prayers, who do we imagine is hearing us? We may not all have vivid, dramatic mental pictures in our heads, but we all have some sort of impression of who God is. And we need to be careful that our impressions aren’t misrepresenting Him.

Crabb describes 10 common pictures of God. Here they are (my paraphrases, anyway). See if you can relate to any of them.

Smiling Buddy – God is there for you the way a good friend should be. He likes to hang out with you. Prayers are like asking favors from your BFF.

Backroom Watchmaker – God is the craftsman who designed and wound up the universe like a clock. Now He has other things to do. He is rather indifferent to our lives and prayers seem a little futile. They don’t make much difference – the world just keeps on ticking.

Preoccupied King – God is worthy of our allegiance, but He is absorbed with really important kingdom stuff like evangelism and political battles over abortion. Our prayers feel small and petty – certainly not worthy of a king’s attention.

Vending Machine – God is a prayer answerer. We put in coins and collect our treats. Need a parking space? Need a new job? Need protection for your travels? Pray more. Put in more coins. God is good.

Stern Patriarch – God is to be obeyed but not enjoyed. Use your manners. Carry a big Bible. Put you napkin in your lap. Our prayers to Him are often stiff and rigid – we ask them in a timid, shy voice, while trying to be on our best behavior.

Kindly Grandfather – God loves us and spoils us because we are adorable. If we tug on his pant leg long enough, He’ll smile and answer us. “Well, I guess you can have candy before dinner. But just one piece. OK, maybe two, but don’t tell your parents.”

Impersonal Force – God is a power that cannot be harnessed. He is more a thing than a person, like something from Star Wars. Prayer somehow tries to redirect this power, but it never connects to someone who knows and loves you.

Cruel Tyrant – God is watching and waiting for you to screw up and then He’ll strike you down. Look at what He did to Job – He turned Satan loose to torture him. God has little interest in looking out for us. Prayers are more like begging for mercy from a despot.

Moral Crusader – God hates the sins of culture like pornography, abortion, gambling, same-sex marriage, and adultery. Personal spiritual formation is secondary. Prayers should focus on turning the national tide back to God.

Romantic Lover – God longs to satisfy our hearts. He loves us so we can feel valuable, special, and cherished. Pursue the pleasure and ecstasy of connecting with God. Whatever creates misery in your life, run from it into the arms of your Lover. Pray words of adoration and passion while He sings love songs over you.

Since summer is here and blog participation my slow down a bit. But let’s test the waters anyway. Does anyone find themselves picturing God in one or more of the ways above? Do you have any critique of Crabb’s list? Some of you are creative and may like to add a picture to the list. I have one I’ll add soon – but the post has gotten long enough already.

My 2008 Graduates

2008-05-12T08:00:00.001-05:00

This past Saturday was graduation at CBC. We held a Commissioning Service for students in the Department of Behavioral Sciences. It was a chance for us to celebrate our students’ accomplishments at CBC and pray for God’s blessing on them as they move forward from here. Before one of our own distinguished alumni spoke to the students and their families, I said a few words. What follows below is something close to what I said.

This year is a special year for me. I have been at CBC for three years now and after three years I finally feel like I understand what’s going on around here. And after three years, I finally feel like the graduating students are my students. We have spent much time together and we know each other well. I’m burdened by the prospect of their success being partially a reflection of how well I have prepared them. The students here today aren’t just generic students – they are my students. I feel responsible for them and I feel a connection with them. Granted, my students may not have always felt same connection with me. For them it may have been more like the connection you have with your crazy uncle from Kansas whom you tolerate when he visits during holidays, but you hope he doesn’t stay too long and eat all of your food.

In any case, let me tell you a little bit about my students.

They are extremely bright. It may take several more years for me to fully understand just how special they are. But consider this – I have twelve graduates this year and together their average GPA together is just over 3.5. That is amazing! Eight of the twelve are graduating with honors and two were inducted into Alpha Chi this year. And one of these twelve will be receiving another special honor later today.

They have been very gracious to me. They were patient when I just wasn’t very good as a teacher. I sometimes look back on my first three years as a full time professor and think I should apologize to them. But they worked hard to become better students and in doing so they challenged me to work hard to become a better teacher. They also laughed at my jokes and stories. And they tolerated me when I stumbled for words or made up my own because my mind was working faster than my lips.

They have all grown and matured in various ways while here at CBC. Many have adjusted to major and sometimes quite painful life events. They have been determined and they have persevered through difficult times. And they have demonstrated a wonderful combination of love for God with love for others. Many of these students have found a passion and a vision for helping hurting people – motivated by Christian love. As I have read their papers over the years, I have noticed their compassion and their growing spiritual maturity. It is going to be terribly exciting to see what God is going to do through them.

As you can tell, I am very proud of my students. At the end of this year, I asked my graduates to provide some feedback on their time here. Before our speaker comes, let me share with you some excerpts. Here are some of my students – in their own words.

“My favorite times in class were those moments where we would just forget everything and be real with each other – both goofy and serious times. When we would just talk or laugh, or just be in the moment with an issue – that was awesome for me.”

“I was often challenged to grow in my beliefs, thoughts, and behaviors… to really dig for answers and wrestle with issues instead of just accepting things because someone said so.”

“There were so many humorous events that happened…, but I think one of my favorites was that time when Eric Hudson teased you about wearing a ‘Regis tie’ and it seemed to bother you a little.”

“The way I interact with people on a daily basis is different, too. I am much more understanding and sensitive to people struggling with illnesses and crises. I can’t even really describe how much my spiritual life has grown and how I have become a better person for having been a student at Central Baptist College. It has been an amazing experience.”

“In my internship I was able to see some lives of those less fortunate than me – and without the hope that I have through Christ. This helped me to continue to grow in my spiritual walk.”

“My college life at CBC has been one of the best times of my life. I would not have thought that I could enjoy college so much. …I will greatly miss the brotherhood that I felt while attending school here.”

“I think the work in my classes has changed my life in so many more ways than I could even count. I’ve grown as a person, a Christian, and as a counselor in leaps and bounds. Every class in some way taught me something about myself and taught me about others – so every day I felt like I expanded who I was….”

“If I wasn’t convinced before that I should ‘love the least of these,’ my heart sure hurts greater for them now. I’m so very grateful that through these years at CBC my passion got stronger, my fire has burned brighter, and my love has grown.”

Thank you class of 2008. May the grace of our Lord be with you all.

I'm Failing All Calvinist Students

2008-05-09T08:41:00.004-05:00

From 11/07/07. One of my favorite posts - not because my original post was all that well written, but because it produced some feisty responses. In fact, would you believe that a few students decided to "boycott" my talk to the Minister's Association here because of this stuff?? Militant Calvinists are funny that way.

Honestly, there's a small part of me that likest to stir up a little bit of trouble and I wish we had more lively discussions like the one that followed this post. You can see the original thread here.

Also, this thread produced on of my favorite quotes of the past year: "Theology degrees are over-rated. Most of the nitwits espousing bad theology have one." Thanks, Craig.

I'm Failing All Calvinist Students

At least that appears to be the rumor lately.

Good grief. Either the grapevine has grown and wildly distorted a class discussion the other day, or some of my students weren’t paying a lick of attention to what I was really saying. Let’s set the record straight. Here’s a short summary of what I said in class…

When dealing with hurting people, counselors and ministers have to confront the issue of personal choices. There is an issue of volition (free will and choosing) that must be addressed. There are two positions that some Christian people-helpers take that are not particularly helpful.

Position #1 – All personal problems are the result of personal choice. People choose their problems. They need to choose differently. They need to stop what they are doing and choose to be obedient to God.

This approach overemphasizes the role of volition. Telling a depressed person to just choose different behaviors isn’t particularly helpful. Nor is telling the woman struggling with anorexia to “just eat something.” Nor is telling the man addicted to pornography to “just stop it.” We have to do more than that.

Position #2 – Choice is an illusion. People do not really make choices. God is sovereign and ordains (causes) everything that happens.

This approach rejects the role of volition. But neither will this approach suffice. It will not do to blame God for our bad decisions. This is a brand of hyper-Calvinism that may work for some in their academic offices, but is not effective in helping people overcome their problems.

To clarify the problem with this position, it was at this point I suggested that any student who holds this position (that choice is an illusion) could come by my office after class. I would immediately give them an “F” for the course. I went on to explain that I was sure they would feel unfairly treated and would quickly go to the Vice President to register a complaint. But here’s the problem…the person who holds this position has no right to complain about my “choice” as a professor. If they are unhappy with the “F” that seems arbitrary, their position insists that they actually see it as God-ordained and they should take up the issue with Him, not me.

Obviously I’m not really going to fail anyone just for being a Calvinist. Or an Arminian.

A dispensationalist? Maybe.

Psychology and the Sufficiency of Scripture

2008-05-08T08:43:00.003-05:00

From 10/15/07. I enjoyed this post mostly because of the interest and dialogue it generated. You can read all of the comments here and you can read part 2 here.

A recent class period generated particularly good discussion and several students mentioned afterward how much they enjoyed it. I’ve decided to post a summary of that discussion here for a wider audience. I’m going to encourage my students to come and participate in further dialogue, but would appreciate anyone else’s input as well.

In one of our texts, Larry Crabb addresses the issue of Biblical sufficiency in counseling. At the heart of the debate among Christians is this question: Is the Bible sufficient to tell us everything we need to know about understanding and solving the problems people face in their lives?

Rephrased for counselors, the question might go something like this: Is the Bible a textbook for counseling? Crabb outlines three positions on this question.

(1) No, God never intended to write a comprehensive guide for counseling. Under this position, “Content other than biblical data is permitted to serve as the beginning and end points for thinking through the issues of counseling.” Counselors legitimately can use any data in understanding and solving personal problems as long as they don’t contradict direct teachings of Scripture. One major problem with this position is that the Bible often fails to serve as a foundation for our counseling. Our theories and techniques must only avoid conflict with the Bible. They do not necessarily emerge from the Bible.

Sometimes our churches operate under this position even though they would verbalize something different. Churches that verbally commit to the Bible being sufficient for everything needed in understanding and solving personal problems often openly neglect addressing personal problems. Crabb puts it this way, “The message [in many churches] is clear: The community of God’s people is no place to deal with the real concerns eating away at your lives; we exist to maintain orthodox belief and to promote conforming behavior. Helping you with your personal problems is not the business of the church.”

(2) Yes. It is comprehensively relevant to every legitimate question that life presents. Under this position, if the Bible does not answer a question about life, then the question should not need to be asked. 2 Timothy 3:16-17 seems pretty clear, doesn’t it? Crabb agrees with much of this position, but in the end says, “The problem with this reasoning… is that it is so close to being right.” He offers two reservations about this position.

Reservation #1: If we are looking for direct answers, we might give to the literal meaning of the text a comprehensive relevance that it simply does not have. Imagine we are called to counsel a man struggling with intense urges to cross dress. Since the Bible directly address this issue (in Dueteronomy 22:5) we might assume that this teaching is comprehensively relevant. Nothing else is needed. We would counsel the man, “Don’t do that.” If he asks why he struggles with such urges when most other men don’t, or if he asks what causes such urges, we would advise him that those questions are illegitimate. They aren’t answered in the Bible, so those questions must not matter. Crabb explains, “Under the banner of biblical sufficiency, Christian counselors may ignore crucially important questions by responding only to questions that they can easily answer.”

Reservation #2: When the range of permissible questions is narrowed, our understanding of complicated problems is too simplistic. Imagine this time we are counseling a woman struggling with anorexia. Since the Bible doesn’t directly answer this issue, we turn to issues the Bible does answer. We know that the Bible describes our bodies as the temple of the Holy Spirit. Anorexia may then just be seen as rebellion against her responsibility to care properly for the temple. Again, “why” questions go unanswered and we give shallow answers to complicated problems. “When we limit the questions we are allowed to ask to those the Bible specifically answers, the result will often be a nonthinking and simplistic understanding of life and its problems that fails to drive us to increased dependency in the Lord.”

For Crabb, there must be a third alternative. We’ll be discussing that in class today and I’ll be posting a summary of it here tomorrow.

The Loudness War

2008-05-07T08:33:00.003-05:00

From 7/12/07. Here's another post that I appreciated more than my readers. I love music. And I love metaphors. So this musical metaphor for the Christian life was appealing to me. You kinda have to watch the video to get it, though.

If you have a good ear for music, you might pop in a new CD today and recognize the quality is poorer than CDs produced years ago. Record producers have been fixated on making music louder and louder, often at the expense of quality. Watch this short video for a more complete explanation.

At the end of the clip, the commentator remarks, “When there is no quiet, there can be no loud.” This seems to be a wonderful metaphor for our hectic, activity-packed, loud lives. Have you noticed our obsession with things that are big, loud, and otherwise extreme? It’s not just about volume - we are drowning all of our senses. And our Christian lives are no exception, either. We feel good about our church services, concerts, and “worship experiences,” but even in these we have fallen to the temptation of bombarding our senses until we are buzzing and then calling it real.

Just as the music quality suffers when CDs are made louder and louder, the quality of our lives suffer when we jam our senses and our lives full of stuff, even good stuff.

Our Father tells us, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

We need times of quiet reflection, solitude, and meditation. These quiet times in our lives will surely bring more crispness and clarity to the rest. It is ironic, I suppose. If you really want a big, loud, rich, full life… be sure to tune in to the quiet times of your life. When there is no quiet, there can be no loud.

The Swirling Vortex of Doom

2008-05-06T08:42:00.004-05:00

From 5/23/07. I love this story about Lake Peigneur.

- Running my cousin’s 3-wheeler into a barbed-wire fence.
- Buying a country music CD.
- Shattering my own windshield while replacing a wiper blade.
- Trying to grow a goatee.
- Going to the bathroom with poison ivy on my hands.

I’ve made a ton of mistakes in my life. Most of them have been relatively inconsequential – thank goodness. God is good to us that way. We get lots of grace. But some of our mistakes, even the small ones, have terrible consequences.

This is especially true with our words. The smallest of mistakes with the words we use with someone can have lifelong effects. This shouldn’t be any surprise to us. James 3:1-12 reminds us of the power and danger of our words. “See how great a forest is set aflame by such a small fire!" (vs. 5)

I was reminded of how small mistakes can have huge consequences this weekend when I heard the story of Lake Peigneur in Louisiana. In 1980, it was a small freshwater lake only 6 to 11 feet deep. A drilling company began drilling operations from the lake, but after drilling some 1300 feet below the lake, they ran into trouble.

Click here or here for the full story. Click here for a video segment.

Here’s the short story. The drilling company hit a salt mine below the lake. Water started to rush into the salt mine, dissolving the salt pillars and collapsing the salt dome. A whirlpool began in the lake that eventually sucked down the oil rig, 11 barges, a tugboat, trailers, trucks, trees, and who knows what else. The lake typically drained into the Gulf of Mexico 12 miles away through a canal. Once this swirling vortex of doom began, the water in the canal reversed directions. Water from the Gulf of Mexico filled in the salt mine and lake. Lake Peigneur is now 1300 feet deep instead of 11. And the saltwater drastically changed the biology of the lake.

All of that from a 14 inch drilling bit.

I’ve got to be more careful with my words.

And poison ivy.

Lessons from Toad Suck Daze (part II)

2008-05-05T10:12:00.003-05:00

For this week, I'll be reposting some material of the past year. (I would call it the "best of" but that assumes I've actually had some good material.) You can chalk this week up to (1) being lazy and unoriginal, (2) being swamped with projects and final exams to grade, or (3) sleep deprivation from lil' Cooper being up at all hours of the night. You choose.

Today's post is from a year ago - after Toad Suck Daze in 2007. But I had many the same observations this year.

I worked at a booth at Toad Suck on Sunday morning for Life Choices. (There’s a plug for you, Maria!) While at the booth, I heard this comment from a dad as he led his family through a downtown street. For some reason, it caught me really funny and I nearly laughed out loud as they passed by.

"Coltuhn!! Give yur turtle to yur sissy so you can eat yur pickle!”

This little kid had a box in one hand (with a hole in the top and a turtle inside) and a jumbo pickle in the other. He was struggling mightily to manage both of them at the same time.

You see all kinds of people at events like Toad Suck. For example, over the weekend, I saw……
Some people wearing flip-flops, some wearing combat boots.
Some people with long hair, some people with no hair.
Some people in motorcycle gangs, some people in scrapbooking clubs.
Some people who smoke, some who don’t.
Some people who liked the Bret Michaels concert, some who liked Michael English.
Some people with kids, some people without.
Some Republicans, some Democrats.
Some people with lots of tattoos, some without.
Some people with lots of teeth, some without.
Some people who appreciate good hygiene, some people who don’t.
Some people who appreciate fried Oreos, some people who don’t.
Some people lots of money, some people without much money at all.
Some people who were like me, some people not so much.

Lesson #2 from Toad Suck Daze = God must value and enjoy variety in His creation. So should I.

How Much Conviction? (Part 2)

2008-04-28T07:33:00.002-05:00

I was hoping for a few more responses in part 1, but that’s the nature of blogging, I suppose. Sometimes you get action on a post, sometimes you don’t.

I think I could develop a more thorough post on an idea here – but I’m going to just cut to the chase.

Like Curtis, I would like for all people (not just homosexuals) to "acknowledge [our sinful lifestyles] and have a 100% desire to change." Personally, I’m just not sure I can require that for membership. And I’m not sure how high of a number I can give.

Here’s why: No matter what number I come up with for this hypothetical dilemma, I know that there are sins in my life for which I experience an even lower level of conviction. I tend to take other people’s sins more seriously than I take my own.

Stupid plank.

How Much Conviction? (Part 1)

2008-04-23T08:45:00.003-05:00

We had an interesting discussion in Human Sexuality recently. After taking a previous class period to review the complex interactions of biological, psychological, social/cultural, and spiritual factors that cause homosexuality, we then turned our attention in yesterday’s class to how we (as Christians) ought to respond to the issue.

At one point and in an attempt to be practical, I offered this question: How much conviction should a homosexual person experience or demonstrate before we accept him/her in church?

Suppose a person came to you and explained that although he struggles significantly with homosexual thoughts and feelings, he does not want to engage in homosexual behavior. He sees homosexuality as a sin, he wants to be true to Scripture, follow Jesus, and allow the Holy Spirit to work in his life. He doesn’t yet know if he should just commit to a life of abstinence or if he should work toward changing his orientation. But he wants to be a part of your church. For the sake of our discussion, let’s describe this person as experiencing/demonstrating 100% conviction. This person you would very likely welcome into your church. You would want to minister to him and walk his journey with him.

Suppose another person came to you and explained that he has been active in a homosexual lifestyle for many years. He described himself as a dedicated Christian and he loves attending church, but be does not believe homosexuality sinful. In fact, he openly advocates for Christians to accept homosexuality as a normal and natural part of God’s plan for some people. He has no plans to change his behaviors or lifestyle, but he wants to be a part of your church. For the sake of our discussion, let’s describe this person as experience/demonstrating 0% conviction. This person you would likely not welcome into your church. You would (hopefully) maintain a good personal relationship with him, but membership in your local community of believers is probably not acceptable.

At least that was the consensus among my students at a conservative Christian college.

But most people (including ourselves) don’t live at 100% or 0% conviction. People live somewhere in between. We have a great ambivalence about most of our issues. There is a part of us that wants to change – there is a part of us that does not. And this is likely true of many people struggling with homosexuality. So I offered this more specific question to my students: What percentage of conviction should a person experience/demonstrate before we accept him into membership at our church?

Granted, these are unfair questions and some students rightfully objected to them. We are not in a place to judge someone else’s conviction, right? But we do judge – all the time – and in order to exaggerate and examine our response to homosexuals, I forced each student to give me a number. What percentage of conviction should a homosexual have before we bring them into our community of faith?

It was a lively discussion with answers that ranged from 1% to 100%.

What is your percentage and why?

Too Busy

2008-04-22T15:37:00.002-05:00

This time of the semester is a killer for me. I am in the middle of student advising for next semester, grading end-of-the-semester projects and papers, and getting ready to give final exams. On top of all that - we could have a baby any day now.

So I apologize for the lack of posts.

Here's a great story over at another blog. I encourage you to check it out.

AN

Putting My Sons to Work

2008-04-16T13:08:00.003-05:00

For reasons yet unknown, Shanda and I have settled on names for our boys that reflect occupations. Parker = a park keeper. Tanner = a leather worker. Cooper = a barrel maker. Dads always have dreams for their sons and what they will actually become someday. I’m no exception. However, while their namesake occupations are valuable, I have something else in mind.

I really want my sons to be soldiers, athletes, or farmers.

Someone may need to drive by my house to pick my wife up off the floor. (She reads, but never comments.) Let me explain….

Soldiers are fighters. Their focus is on completing their missions. They are motivated by a desire to please their commanding officer and to protect what is precious. Soldiers hate being passive. I want my boys to be like that.

Athletes are competitors. Their focus is on knowing and following the rules of the game. They are motivated by a desire to win a prize and they hate quitting. I want my boys to be like that, too.

Farmers are hard workers. Their focus is on planting seeds. They do the best they can and then leave the rest to God. They are motivated by a desire to reap a harvest someday. Farmers hate (and cannot afford) laziness. And I want my boys to be like that, too.

You may have already detected the spiritual applications of these occupations – some of them are rather obvious. Paul has this fatherly advice for Timothy.

“You then, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus. And the things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses entrust to reliable men who will also be qualified to teach others. Endure hardship with us like a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No one serving as a soldier gets involved in civilian affairs—he wants to please his commanding officer. Similarly, if anyone competes as an athlete, he does not receive the victor's crown unless he competes according to the rules. The hardworking farmer should be the first to receive a share of the crops. Reflect on what I am saying, for the Lord will give you insight into all this.” – 2 Timothy 2:1-7

I hope I give my sons similar advice as they grow up.

HT: Dr. Dale Wicker

Arrivals and Departures

2008-04-14T08:12:00.001-05:00

Shanda and I have been very busy getting ready for our new baby (hence the lack of posts lately). Even Parker and Tanner have been getting excited to welcome their new little brother to the world. Our preparations and anticipation for little Cooper has made me appreciate this passage a little more:

In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. –John 14:2-3.

I know God experiences various emotions, but I’ve not thought much about God preparing and waiting in anticipation for me to come home someday. What a wonderful, humbling thought!

Simple Pleasures

2008-04-05T20:05:00.002-05:00

As I type this post right now, my sister and I are with my grandmother in her hospital room -- the three of us eating pizza and watching KU and UNC play basketball. Right now, life is good.

Last Lecture

2008-04-04T08:08:00.006-05:00

I’m feeling a bit melancholy today. My grandmother had a heart attack this week and the news our family received yesterday about her treatment and prognosis wasn’t as positive as we had hoped. She has been in very good health, so these sudden developments have unsettled us. Perhaps the least unsettled, however, is my grandmother.

As my sister tearfully updated me last night over the phone, I asked her how our dad was doing. She said that it has been tough for him at times, but that grandma seemed to be doing better than anyone else. In fact, she seemed more concerned with us than she was with her own health. “I’m not afraid” she told my sister and dad last night.

We honestly don’t know when we will have to say goodbye to her. But we have been given a painful reminder that we will have to do so someday. While we may have a long time with her yet, today we are reeling as we consider how temporary life really is.

And then there is this video clip a friend of mine sent this week. I hesitate to post it because I don’t think much of Oprah, honestly. But Professor Randy Pausch gave his “last lecture” at Carnegie Mellon some time ago, and he reprised it on Oprah’s show. You can watch the entire last lecture here, though it is over an hour long and I have yet to watch all of it myself. This reprise is powerful and inspirational. And I am moved as I listen to him explain his motivation for giving the lecture (at the very end of the clip).

Yet, I have mixed emotions about it. While it is about as good as it gets – it is still missing Jesus. And what an awful, sad, glaring omission. Life is not worth living, nor can we face death with integrity, without Jesus.

May we all remember how short and precious life is and draw nearer to Jesus along the way.

Knockoffs, part 3

2008-04-02T08:07:00.003-05:00

Nobody cares about some old, strange Egyptian dude?? That’s OK. I’m accustomed to hearing crickets in the background of my life.

Knockoffs, part 1 – Sometimes it is a really bad idea for Christians to borrow and use stuff from the secular world around us.

Knockoffs, part 2 – Sometimes it is appropriate. Even God saw fit to include borrowed secular stuff in His word.

So how do we know when we should or should not borrow and use secular words, ideas, and products? Here are a few thoughts. But hang with me – my train of thought is getting ready to take a detour.

Howard Gardner is a brilliant scholar at Harvard and is most well known for his work in the area of “multiple intelligences.” He has many important things to say about how we should measure and develop intelligence as well as how we ought to be educating our children. Regarding curriculum, Gardner says specific topics make little difference. Rather, as a rule, we ought to focus teaching our children about issues of truth, beauty, and goodness. This isn’t the focus of Gardner’s work, but I remember hanging on those words as I read them years ago.

The true, the beautiful and the good.

I think that could serve as a pretty good standard to use in judging which secular material to borrow and which to leave alone. As we attempt to connect with and communicate the gospel to an unbelieving world – let’s borrow the stuff that is true, beautiful, and good.

Let’s find, understand, and apply truth wherever it is found. In my own field of psychology and counseling, there are too many findings supported by scientific data for me to just ignore. Even when non-Christians stumble across truth, we should recognize and make use of it.

Let’s appreciate and incorporate beauty wherever it is found. Artists and musicians may not give credit their Creator, but that’s doesn’t mean we don’t have to.

And let’s recognize, support, and participate in goodness wherever it is found. There are many worthwhile activities and organizations that we should value despite their non-Christian origins or lack of explicitly Christian messages.

I wonder if this strikes a chord with anyone or seems useful to anyone else but me. But it seems to be helpful in judging the appropriateness of some Christian knockoffs.

Like Christian breath mints. Are they true, beautiful, or good? I think not. But is it OK for me to appreciate Eric Clapton? Probably.

Rather than making my own list of secular things that are either true, beautiful, or good, I’d like you to offer your own suggestions. I’m nervous to make that kind of request – I wonder if I can hear the crickets warming up again. But I’m asking anyway… Can you think of secular things that are worth appreciating, borrowing, using, and participating in because they are true, beautiful, and/or good? (Extra credit will be given if you can give an example of each.)

Knockoffs, part 2

2008-03-31T07:42:00.003-05:00

In one of my recent posts on Christian knockoffs, I pushed the buttons of a few folks (Craig, Stephanie, EG, and Zeb were most vocal). We all seem to share some distaste for Christian knockoff products.

Something resonated within me when Zeb wrote, “I think we should preach the gospel of Jesus Christ to the unbelieving world. The gospel is pure, it's powerful and it saves. These [Christian knockoffs] do not.” I don’t want to put words into Zeb’s mouth, but there is something appealing about refusing to borrow from the non-believing world around us and simply sharing God’s word. After all, the stuff of this world is tainted and useless compared to the Bible, right?

Yet, I still felt something missing from this approach, too. It reminds me too much of those who would try to counsel people using nothing but words from the Bible. (My students know that I find value in some of the work of non-believing psychologists and therapists.) I don’t think it wise to reject, simply on principle, from borrowing anything from non-believers.

So I began pondering again the legitimacy of borrowing from a non-believing culture to communicate the truth of the gospel. And then I remembered Amenemope.

The Instruction of Amenemope is an example of wisdom literature from ancient Egypt. Most biblical scholars, conservative ones included, believe Instruction of Amenemope serves as background and foundation for Proverbs 22:17-24:22. The two passages are not identical, but they are very similar – in some places they are so similar that there is little doubt one source directly influenced the other.

Curious? Read some excerpts for yourself…

Proverbs 22:17-18
Pay attention and listen to the sayings of the wise;
apply your heart to what I teach,
for it is pleasing when you keep them in your heart
and have all of them ready on your lips.

Instruction of Amenemope, Chapter 1
Give your ears and hear what is said,
Give your mind over to their interpretation:
It is profitable to put them in your heart,
But woe to him that neglects them!

Proverbs 22:20-21
Have I not written thirty sayings for you,
sayings of counsel and knowledge,
teaching you true and reliable words,
so that you can give sound answers
to him who sent you?

Instruction of Amenemope, Chapter 30
Mark for your self these thirty chapters:
They please, they instruct,
They are the foremost of all books;
They teach the ignorant.
If they are read to an ignorant man,
He will be purified through them.

Proverbs 22:24
Do not make friends with a hot-tempered man,
do not associate with one easily angered,

Instruction of Amenemope, Chapter 9
Do not fraternize with the hot-tempered man,
Nor approach him to converse.

Proverbs 23:1-2
When you sit to dine with a ruler,
note well what is before you,
and put a knife to your throat
if you are given to gluttony.

Instruction of Amenemope, Chapter 23
Do not eat a meal in the presence of a magistrate,
Nor set to speaking first…
Look at the cup in front of you,
And let it suffice your need.

Proverbs 23:4-5
Do not wear yourself out to get rich;
have the wisdom to show restraint.
Cast but a glance at riches, and they are gone,
for they will surely sprout wings
and fly off to the sky like an eagle.

Instruction of Amenemope, Chapter 7
Do not exert yourself to seek out excess
And your wealth will prosper for you;
If riches come to you by theft
They will not spend the night with you;
As soon as day breaks they will not be in your household;
Although their places can be seen, they are not there.

I remember discussing in seminary the issue of “borrowed material” in the Bible. Several students were greatly disturbed at the idea. For them, it made Scripture seem less reliable, less pure, even less divine somehow. After all, the wisdom of the world is tainted and useless, right?

But God saw fit to have the words of a pagan world included in the Bible. How should we make sense of this? Here are a couple of thoughts from the Expositor’s Bible Commentary on Proverbs.

“…To recognize the biblical texts as divine revelation does not necessarily mean that all its contents had to be previously unknown information…. Very likely the writers deliberately used well-known concepts and expressions from the pagan world to subordinate them to the true religion.”

“Inspiration does not exclude the divine use of existing material; but in Scripture it takes on a new force, a higher meaning, and becomes authoritative.”

So if we know by example (from God Himself) that using the creations from an unbelieving world is sometimes acceptable, how do we decide when and where it is most appropriate?

I have some thoughts percolating on that very idea. More coming later. Until then (and as always), I’m interested in your thoughts and observations.

Spring Broke

2008-03-20T10:24:00.002-05:00

I haven’t posted as often this week – I suppose I am coasting into Spring Break. Some of my students will be doing big and great things like spending a week skiing with friends or serving on mission trips. Me? Here’s what my break will look like:

I’ll spend my mornings watching SpongeBob SquarePants and my afternoons riding bicycles.

I’ll be spending some sleepless nights in a half-panic as the reality of having another baby finally starts to set in.

I will have to take out a second mortgage to stock up on diapers, buy bunk beds, and find batteries for all the baby toys that will make crazy, repetitive, annoying noises.

I’ll be shedding tears of joy as the furniture folks deliver and assemble the bunk beds for me. Since it took me four weeks to assemble a Big Wheel, I’m afraid the boys wouldn’t be able to use the beds until they were ready for college if it were up to me.

I will have to keep two boys from killing each other, breaking stuff, and making their mother crazy while they are out of school, too.

I’ll watch my fair share of March Madness until my wife reminds me (three or four times) how desperately our yard needs work. Then I’ll get off my duff and start to work outside, discover I don’t have the right tool for something, hurt myself or break something, then come back inside feeling like a failure. I’ll turn basketball back on to make myself feel better.

I’ll try to read something that isn’t related to any of my classes.

If I do write about anything, it won’t be about sex because my friends have informed me that my blog has become a little “topic heavy.”

Enjoy the break.

Knockoffs

2008-03-18T07:41:00.002-05:00

You’ve seen these kind of t-shirts, right? They mimic other logos and brands while promoting a Christian message. It seems they gained popularity when I was in junior high and high school, and I have to admit I had my fair share of them.

A “Solid Rock Café” t-shirt that looked just like a Hard Rock Café shirt.

A “1 Corinthians 6:10” shirt made to look like a Corona shirt.

A “Jesus is the Real Thing” shirt that sort of almost resembled something like a Coca-Cola shirt.

I could go on, but I’ve embarrassed myself enough. I mean, back then I thought I was puttin’ the “Kool” in Kool-Aid with those shirts. Now? – I’m not sure I would mow my yard in one.

I suppose like all things, those knockoff t-shirts have their place. Tim Ellsworth wrote the following article back in November about Christian knockoffs. I found it again this morning and thought it was worth sharing…

A little girl recites Psalm 23. A squirrel sings "I Will Always Love You." A man beats the tar out of a computer when he accidentally stumbles across a pornographic Web site.

These are just some of the videos you'll find on Internet sites like GodTube, an obvious knockoff of the popular YouTube.

GodTube is one of the fastest growing Web sites around. It had 1.7 million unique visitors in August, a 973 percent increase from the previous month. A number of major Christian retailers and ministries have signed on as partners with the venture.

The site has company among others aping YouTube, like ChristianUTube and Xianz. While I'm sure there are some decent videos on these sites, from my limited experience, they tend to be bastions of bad theology with a lot of material that's downright silly.

Take, for instance, the video of Ray Comfort calling the banana "the atheist's nightmare." He proceeds to demonstrate that the banana disproves evolution - because it's obvious that the banana with its no-slip grip has been designed to fit in the human hand. It's also "just the right shape for the human mouth," Comfort says.

If this is true, then what are we to make of the kiwi?

The popular GodTube doesn't stop at offering Christian videos. On a recent visit, I saw an ad on the site advertising the "GodTube Social Network: The best way to connect with other believers."

The best way to connect with other believers? I thought that's what local churches were for.

The video sites like GodTube aren't alone, however, as Christian knockoffs like this are everywhere.

Want a Christian version of "American Idol"? We've got it.

How about a Christian energy drink ("Fused with the fruit of the Spirit" - and no, I'm not kidding). We've got that too.

Christian breath mints? Yep.

We've even got the social networking knockoffs. Myspace? No, it's got to be HisHolySpace or Your Christian Space instead. I mean, on Myspace, an unbeliever might try to add me as a friend or something. We can't have that.

While there's certainly a place for Christian versions of various products - like books - do we really need Christian breath mints? Am I more like Jesus after consuming a Testamint than I am after sucking on a Tic Tac?

The Christian subculture is robust and growing, and its success indicates that far too many Christians are perfectly content to surround themselves with "Christian" copies of everything, in the process isolating themselves entirely from a lost world that desperately needs the Gospel.

Wouldn't the videos posted on sites like GodTube be far more effective on mainstream sites like YouTube, where non-Christians might actually see them? There probably aren't a lot of unbelievers who have GodTube bookmarked on their browsers.

Or, better yet, what if the energies that go into making "Christian" videos - or "Christian" products of any kind - were used instead to produce high-quality work that isn't explicitly "Christian"? Look at J.R.R. Tolkein. His books are so good that everyone enjoys them - Christians and non-Christians alike.

While Tolkein's beliefs may have spilled out into Middle Earth, his books were not written primarily as tools to proselytize. They were written to be great books. Christians would do well to follow his example, and would be far more effective in transforming culture by doing so.

Of course, the Christian knockoffs aren't all bad, and I'm sure those who make them and use them have the best of intentions. I even fall into that category of users myself from time to time.

But Christians have seemingly forgotten what God said through the prophet Jeremiah to the Israelites who were captive in Babylon: "But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare" (Jeremiah 29:6).

Taken as a whole, this impulse to "Christianize" everything in our culture reflects poorly on evangelical Christianity. It indicates that we are not interested in engaging the broader culture, or in trying to transform and redeem it to the glory of God. Instead, we want to build our own "Christian" fortresses where we can feel safe and secure and good, far removed from the evil and sin and worldliness of the culture around us.

That mentality surely doesn't play well among those that we as Christians should be trying to influence the most.

Reality Check

2008-03-14T06:34:00.005-05:00

Here is a reality check.

(I wonder how much time Eric spends worrying about theological labels.)

HT: Wade Burleson

How to Fit in at Almost Any Church

2008-03-12T07:36:00.002-05:00

Sorta funny.

I cracked up at the ferrets.

Labels, part 2

2008-03-11T06:29:00.003-05:00

Arminian, Barthian, biblicist, Calvinist, charismatic, conservative, contemporary, covenantal, dispensationalist, emergent, emerging, evangelical, fundamentalist, irenic, liberal, literalist, missional, moderate, neo-orthodox, post-evangelical, post-modern, progressive, reformed, traditionalist…

(Please be sure to read Labels, part 1 before continuing.)

If I were a theology professor, we would tackle the issue of theological labels in a couple of different classes this semester. Pastors, theologians, and students use theological labels in their sermons, lectures, and late-night conversations over their Playstations. I have no idea how many actually exist, but I’m guessing there could be over 250 different theological labels. Many of the same labels have made their way into our everyday language. Due to the widespread use of labels, both in academic settings and in everyday conversations, we should carefully consider their advantages and disadvantages.

Advantages:
Labels can assist in communication. If theologians around the world all used the same labels in the same way (and they don’t), the consistency in communication would improve dramatically. It would be nice if a person labeled as “emerging” in Conway, AR could go anywhere else in the world and another pastor would have a pretty good idea of the person’s theology, just knowing the label alone. The problem is that pastors and theologians have no equivalent of the DSM-IV. There is no manual that is used universally to provide consistent labels. For some labels, there may be a general consensus of definitions. For others, individuals are left on their own to define them as they’d like.

Labels sometimes make people feel better. Theological dilemmas and journeys can be scary – especially if a person feels lost about what is happening to them. Some people experience great relief just knowing that their theological position has a name. Labels can make people feel safe. Naming a theological position indicates we have some knowledge of and control over it. The problem is that unlike psychological disorders, theological perspectives are not conditions from which we need healing. And it is OK to feel lost and a little scared along the way – we certainly don’t need the false security that labels can provide.

Disadvantages:
Labels are limiting. While our labels may produce more efficient communication, they sometimes do so at the expense of accurate communication. People sometimes get “boxed in” by a label, and theologians and ministers can miss important information about another person because it doesn’t fit the label and they aren’t looking for it.

Labels are persistent. Once a person receives a theological label, it tends to stick. Labels are etched into the minds of others and these associations remain in their memories for years if not a lifetime. Even someone whose previous beliefs have all but disappeared will likely retain the label for quite a long time. At best, labels are verbalized in the past tense (e.g. “that dude was a hard-core fundamentalist”). But the label is there nonetheless – it persists.

Labels create stereotypes and stigmas. Once others discover that a person has a particular theological label, they will think of and treat that person differently. I could illustrate this point in class by asking students what would happen if I were to disclose that I was an Emergent Calvinist. Nothing in my personality or behavior would change during those few minutes in class (nor in the following days, weeks, or months), but their perception of and interactions with me would immediately change nonetheless.

Labels become identifiers. People who receive or assign themselves theological labels often begin to identify themselves in terms of those labels. In my lifetime spent in churches and Christian educational institutions, I have constantly met people who identified themselves as “fundamentalist,” “conservative,” “moderate,” or even “postmodern” (*gasp*). And I should have insisted to them, for example, “No, you are a child of God who has some conservative beliefs.” People think of themselves differently once they are so labeled and too much of their identity can get wrapped up in their label.

I’m not suggesting we do away with theological labels. I’m suggesting we use them cautiously and flexibly – and with much grace and humility.

Labels, part 1

2008-03-10T11:07:00.003-05:00

ADHD, agoraphobic, anorexic, antisocial, anxious, autistic, bipolar, borderline, bulimic, cyclothymic, delusional, depressed, dependent, dissociative, dysthymic,……..

We tackle the issue of diagnostic labels in a couple of different classes this semester. Clinicians use the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) to diagnose various psychological problems. We are currently using the fourth version of the manual and the DSM-IV describes about 250 different psychological disorders. Many of the same labels have made their way into our everyday language. Due to the widespread use of labels, both in clinical settings and in everyday conversations, we should carefully consider their advantages and disadvantages.

Advantages:
Labels assist in communication. When clinicians around the world all use the same manual (and they do), the continuity of care for a client improves dramatically. If a person in Conway, AR is diagnosed with Bipolar II Disorder, he or she can go nearly anywhere else in the world and another clinician will have a pretty good idea of the client’s problems, just knowing the diagnosis alone. The DSM-IV labels improve the consistency of treatments between clinicians.

Labels sometimes make people feel better. Psychological problems can be scary – especially if a person feels lost about what is happening to them. Some people experience great relief just knowing that their condition has a name. Labels can make people feel safe. Naming a condition indicates we have some knowledge of and control over it.

Disadvantages:
Labels are limiting. While our labels may produce more efficient communication, they sometimes do so at the expense of accurate communication. Clients sometimes get “boxed in” by a label, and clinicians can miss important information because it doesn’t fit the diagnosis and they aren’t looking for it.

Labels are persistent. Once a person receives a diagnostic label, it tends to stick. Diagnoses are entered into client records that follow them for years if not a lifetime. Even someone whose symptoms have all but disappeared will likely retain the diagnosis for quite a long time. At best, past labels are documented in the past tense (e.g. “client has a history of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder”). But the label is there nonetheless – it persists.

Labels create stereotypes and stigmas. Once others discover that a person has a particular diagnostic label, they will think of and treat that person differently. I sometimes illustrate this point in class by asking students what would happen if I were to disclose that I had been diagnosed with Schizophrenia several years ago. Nothing in my personality or behavior would change during those few minutes in class (nor in the following days, weeks, or months), but their perception of and interactions with me would immediately change nonetheless.

Labels become identifiers. People who receive diagnostic labels often begin to identify themselves in terms of those labels. In my work in community mental health clinics, I constantly met clients who identified themselves as their label: “I’m a Bipolar” or “I’m a Schizophrenic.” And I was constantly saying to them, “No, you are someone who struggles with Bipolar Disorder.” People think of themselves differently once they are diagnosed and so much of their identity can get wrapped up in their label.

I’m not suggesting we do away with diagnostic labels. I’m suggesting we use them cautiously and flexibly. More on labels coming tomorrow.

Dr. Gardner - All The Rest

2008-03-03T13:43:00.001-06:00

Whereas the first post was reserved mostly for tackling the issue of singleness, this post will serve as a “catch all” for any other questions readers may have. (But please feel free to continue your discussions in the first post.)

Dr. Gardner, I’m sure readers will post their own questions. But let me offer just two to get the ball rolling.

(1) With this new paradigm or perspective on human sexuality in mind, what specific, concrete guidelines or instructions would you suggest regarding what is acceptable and unacceptable sexual behavior outside of marriage? Several of my students have discussed their frustration with Christian leaders who in general say, “save yourself for marriage,” but won’t offer any specific ideas about what is OK and what is not OK before marriage.

(2) In addition, what are the implications of this perspective on how we should do “sex education” in our families and churches?

Dr. Gardner - Introduction and Singleness

2008-03-03T08:22:00.002-06:00

I apologize for the delay – we’ve had some network difficulties at CBC. Today I welcome Dr. Tim Gardner to the blog. Both Dr. Gardner and I would like for my students (and other blog readers) to engage in some dialogue about Sacred Sex. Once Dr. Gardner has responded to this post, I invite everyone else to join in by offering your own reactions and questions.

Dr. Gardner, thank you again for offering to help us better understand your book. Let me quote a passage from your introduction to Sacred Sex. “God wanted sex to be a lot more than just a really fun think for wives and husbands to do together…. God designed marital sex to be an encounter with the divine. Sexual intimacy, with all of its overwhelming emotions and heart-pounding sensations, was never intended to be expressed solely in the emotional and physical realms. Rather, it is to be a spiritual, even mystical, experience in which two bodies become one. God is present in a very real way every time this happens. Sex really is holy. It’s a sacred place shared in the intimacy of marriage. And it’s an act of worship, a sacrament of marriage that invites and welcomes the very presence of God. That’s the meaning and benefit of holy sex.”

Many of my students have read Sacred Sex, but there will be some readers who have not. Is this an accurate summary of your ideas? Please feel free to restate or elaborate the main idea of your book in any way you’d like.

One of the major points of discussion for my students was your view on singleness. You do spend a few pages discussing the concept of the image of God and singleness, but it isn’t the focus of your work in Sacred Sex. Some students and readers have wrestled with the following passage, for example:

"Man, before the creation of woman, was somehow incomplete.... As a man is united with his wife in sexual intimacy, they become one flesh.... That is when a man and woman together most fully represent the image of God, which was breathed into them when He gave them life at creation. This is a marvelous truth. Our Creator God, who is three persons in one Godhead, created a man and woman who become one flesh in sexual union, fully representing the God who created them and gave them His image. It is important to note that this truth about sex doesn’t mean that unmarried persons are somehow less representative of the image of God than those who are married. It does mean that the fullness of God, His complete image (albeit marred in our sinful state) is not fully represented by a lone individual. It is found only when women and men are together in community and communion in the body of Christ. ...And that togetherness of male and female is most fully expressed in the holy state of matrimony as celebrated in the oneness of the one-flesh union."

Can you please share more of your thoughts on singleness?

Announcement!

2008-02-28T14:41:00.002-06:00

Dr. Tim Gardner has graciously offered to participate in some online discussions here regarding sexuality. Readers may remember that several students in my class offered their own review (of the first half) of his book Sacred Sex in a previous post.

I am especially encouraging my Human Sexuality students to engage in some dialogue with Dr. Gardner, but I invite others to join in our discussions, too. And while one of our goals will be to discuss Sacred Sex in particular, Dr. Gardner has also agreed to tackle other, more general questions related to marriage and sex.

For those of you unfamiliar, Dr. Gardner is a Christian speaker, educator, author, and counselor with over 20 years of experience in the areas of marriage and family. You can find some of his current work and interests at Marriage@Work.

In my first post next week, I will try to summarize Dr. Gardner’s key idea behind Sacred Sex. Then I will recap some questions and concerns my students and readers have had with his view on singleness. Since this seems to have been a major point of interest (both in class and on my blog), we will devote the first post to that subject. I will make another post soon after to offer a few other questions to Dr. Gardner. Our hope is that these questions will be a springboard for discussion and that my students and readers will jump in to continue the dialogue in whatever direction seems helpful. If all goes well, we will repeat the process again in a few weeks after my students have read and reviewed the second half of Sacred Sex.

Please join us next week for what should be a lively and encouraging discussion!