I love you, O Lord my strength,
O Lord my stronghold, my crag, and my haven.
My God, my rock in whom I put my trust,
My shield, the horn of my salvation, and my refuge;
You are worthy of praise. ~ Psalm 18:1-2
I was going to write about discernment of spiritual gifts this past week, as I told you, but as sometimes happens, I am changing that. Last week, I couldn’t write even though I planned to do so and had some notes. I had an appointment with my oncologist that morning when we discussed my latest CT scan. It showed that my lung tumor has grown – I don’t know how much because I don’t think it’s in my best interest to know – and I had to deal with my thoughts and feelings about this even when I didn’t want to.
I haven’t wanted to bother you with my emotional states over the last six months because I don’t always have positive thoughts and feelings that I’m ready to share. None of us do no matter what our faces say. It just so happens that unless I tell it like it is, I can hardly write at all. So, this is a little longer but it’s time.
After the doctor told me the results of the scan, I was depressed. I had been feeling well for quite some time, except for a separate problem with my back which is not cancer according to the doctor. Because of that I had hoped that at the very least the tumor would not have grown and even that it might have shrunk. I didn’t really expect the results, but I was not surprised. It took me three days to get my head around it all. Questions filled my thoughts. What is this going to be like? How long will the process of dying take if that is what’s to be? What is heaven like? I must tell you that I never am comfortable doing something new and different. I always, always have anxiety about it. I like to know what I’m getting into and even though there are indications about it all, there it is. I’m anxious. Or was. I don’t know how long I have, but then we never do, really.
I am still praying for a miracle, even more so now, and imagining my tumor gone and my lungs clear. I pray for the darkness to leave them and to be filled with the light of Christ. I still know that Jesus healed those who came to him for healing. I believe he still does so. My prayers come from that knowledge, however, I have moments of doubt. At those times I need to remember, as I did at the beginning of this, to hang on to the hem of Jesus robe and not let go.
During my prayer time on the third day, Sunday, the words, “ACT HEALED”, impressed themselves on me. Act Healed. Can I do that? Isn’t it rather silly to act healed when obviously the CT scan says otherwise? You might ask. The answer is “Yes”. And “No”. Yes, because it not very real is it? Should I not stay with reality and prepare. No, because acting healed can keep me in the moment. It keeps me from having panic attacks, even minor ones. I stay with how I feel overall instead of counting every little twinge of pain. I remember who loves me. I remember whom I love. It helps me focus on something other than illness. There may be days when this acting might be difficult to carry out, but I’ll try. So far, I’m doing ok. I am sleeping better than I was. I was in the office two days this week. I laugh.
I’m still working on things that need organizing. I am giving away some trinkets and heirlooms to family members and fixing my genealogy program. I want to throw out some old files. These things have needed doing, anyway.
Last Friday – I had intended to write about this last week – the Gospel Lesson from Morning Prayer was the story of the raising of Lazarus (John 11:17-27, 38-44). As I read this I was struck by the fact that in this story, Martha is the sister that runs down the road to meet Jesus, even though she rebukes him for not coming in time. Mary is the one who stays behind. I was, for some reason struck by the role reversals from the story when Jesus went to dinner at their house and Mary was the one who sat at Jesus’ feet while Martha was preparing lunch for their guest (Luke 10:38-42). Martha was upset because Mary wasn’t helping, and when she complained Jesus told her that Mary had chosen the better way. I doubt if that seemed fair to Martha. In the Lazarus story, I had always assumed that Mary stayed behind because she was angry with Jesus and wasn’t going to run to him on the road. But as I meditated on this, I remembered that there was a house full of guests who had come to pay respects and she had to be the hostess. Hospitality was at stake.
What do these stories say to me? What does Jesus want me to know here? I think it is that spending time with Jesus is my top priority. First prayer and then work and whatever. Both are necessary. I just need to get them in the right order.
“I have to stay close enough to the Word to hear my Father’s voice.
And in the stillness, our Father’s voice calls and there is a moving back closer to hear Him —we need the person of God more than we need the plan for our life.”—Ann Voskamp