Psalm46

Psalm46

January 18, 1013

It was one year ago this week, 

on Friday, January 13th to be exact, when I sat in the office of the Pulmonary Specialist and got the diagnosis of cancer, stage IV. She was such a cool, perky woman to deliver such bad news. When she started talking about "quality of life" Jeane and I knew we were in for a battle.                                   

Cancer is just a word, no different from pencil or ticket or basket--a word that's book-ended by consonants with a couple of vowels thrown in. We didn't know much at that point, but we knew we would not give it power.

"Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's," said Jesus, "and unto God the things that are God's."  (Mark 12:17)

I work in a medical establishment and I have the greatest respect for modern medicine and for those who have a call to make it their life's work. I have high regard for the opinions of my doctors regarding my health--they know more than I do. And I'm thankful for all the support and care they give me.

But this kind of stuff? A life sentence? I'll take all the facts and submit them to a higher authority. It's God's call--not Caesar's.

We're all going to die sometime. But I was not about to let Satan steal one day from me before my time. This battle is one of those Paul is talking about when he says, "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against.....the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." (Eph. 6:12)

One year later I get up every morning grateful for the air I get to breathe and the places I get to go and the people I get to spend time with. I'm grateful that I am feeling well and that the tumors have shrunk.

I pray for my kidney every day that God would miraculously sustain it. I ask for your continued prayers, too. This journey has been amazing, and it's not over yet.

Along the road I have experienced this truth in a whole new way: No matter what, God is with us. Psalm 46 opens with these words:

God is our refuge and strength,
   An ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear
      Though the earth should move.

Though the mountains shake into the heart of the sea,
   Though its waters roar and foam,
      Though the mountains tremble with their tumult.....
    
             ......Be still and know that I am God.

The first verse speaks to me the loudest: An ever-present help in trouble.
Ever-present. Very present. Always present.
No, really!
Always here. Always accessible. Always sure ground under my feet.
Not just a story or an idea or a theology, but God himself--with me ever!

Ever-present on the MRI table.
Ever-present in the oncologist's office.
Ever-present at 3 AM when the voices of cancer taunt and dance.
Ever-present when we storm the gates of hell with prayer.
Ever-present in the food I eat.
Ever-present in the hyperbaric oxygen chamber.
Ever-present in the still, small voice that speaks hope and life to me.
Ever-present when I step outside in the morning and feel the sun on my face for another day.

Ever-present.
The I AM of God.

With celebration and gratitude for this day,

Greg