HOW ARE YOU?

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen…”  (2 Corinthians 4:16–18 NIV) 

"How are you?"

That familiar question makes me smile as I consider the possibility of giving a totally honest answer after living with cancer for the last two years.

Many times the question comes from a stranger, such as the waiter who introduces himself at our table in a restaurant. The answer is more about making him feel comfortable than about my current health. So I automatically say, "Fine, thanks," even when I'm not so fine.

When a good friend or family member like my son-in-law asks, "How are you?" I sometimes go for the obvious, smart-alecky answer. "I have cancer," I say with a grin, "but otherwise, I'm great." To that, my son-in-law rolls his eyes and vows never to ask me that question again.

Many times the question comes from well-meaning people who care but don't need a lengthy description or a boring tale of woe. Last week at church, soon after I got home from yet another hospital stay, several people asked, "How are you?"

This is when the question challenges me the most. How do I give a current, appropriately honest answer? After all, when cancer enters a person's life, it changes how she is. I liken it to living within a picture frame with a persistent dark cloud on the horizon. But cancer also brings the odd gift of making today's sunshine preciously important, so that day I answered the question this way: "I'm good for today… and today that's good enough for me."

Next week or next month, the appropriately honest answer might be different, so I ask God's help in seeking the right words.

Father, I want the answer to "How are you?" to point back to You. Please give me the words that reflect my faith. 

-- Carol Kuykendall in “Daily Guideposts 2009”

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Editor’s Note: For a follow-up to this post, go to https://guideposts.org/positive-living/health-and-wellness/living-longer-living-better/the-amazing-way-this-couple-beat-cancer-together/

PAIN – THE GREAT EQUALIZER

“And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.”  (Revelation 21:4 NKJV)

Affliction is a great equalizer.  It makes us all brothers and sisters in a very special way.  Almost anyone who has ever shared a hospital room remembers their roommate; they have traveled together in the fellowship of suffering, and even if they never see each other again, they often feel uniquely close.  This is partly because pain treats us all alike.  It's easier to endure sickness in a private room than in a ward, but when you have to depend on a nurse or an aide for bedpan and bathing, it makes no difference whether you're rich or poor, learned or ignorant. And if you're accustomed to being independent, the burden may be all the harder to bear.

In 1893, shortly after Grover Cleveland had come into his second term in the presidency, it was discovered that he had cancer of the throat and jaw.  National leaders feared that if his illness became public knowledge, the shaky financial condition of the country might grow into a full panic.  So they arranged for a medical team to join the president on a yacht, and skilled surgeons operated as the craft rolled up the East River. "If you must have surgery," someone might say, "that's the way to have it."  Perhaps. But Cleveland wrote later, "I have learned how weak the strongest man is under God's decree; and I see in a new light the necessity of doing my allotted work in the full apprehension of the coming night."

Pain is a great equalizer.  Peasant or president, rich or poor, the dimensions are pretty much the same. 

-- J. Ellsworth Kalas in “If Experience Is Such a Good Teacher Why Do I Keep Repeating the Course?”

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GOD’S ALL-SUFFICIENT GRACE - Part 1

You have God’s sufficient grace to sustain you.

Paul’s life underscored this truth. He wrote “There was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the LORD to take it away from me. But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness’.” (2 Corinthians 12:7b-9a)

A thorn in the flesh. Such vivid imagery. The sharp end of a thorn pierces the soft skin in life and lodges beneath the surface. Every step is a reminder of the thorn in the flesh.

The cancer in the body. The sorrow in the heart. The child in the rehab center. The red ink on the ledger. The felony on the record. The craving for whiskey in the middle of the day. The tears in the middle of the night. The thorn in the flesh.

“Take it away,” you’ve pleaded. Not once, twice, or even three times. You’ve outprayed Paul. He prayed a sprint; you’ve prayed the Boston Marathon. And you’re about to hit a wall at mile nineteen. The wound radiates pain, and you see no sign of tweezers coming from heaven. But what you hear is this: “My grace is sufficient for you.”

-- Max Lucado in “Grace: More Than We Deserve, Greater Than We Imagine” 


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