Looking back, a year in

What’s below is an adaptation of something I wrote in December but shared with a limited audience. I haven’t written much about my illness since my initial post almost a year ago, so I thought I should share some things here on the blog.

After I was discharged from my initial hospital stay last year, I did three more 4-week cycles of chemo treatment, and then I had a bone marrow transplant in the summer. I went home about a month later, and things were looking pretty good.

Exactly two months after I was discharged, though, I got the news that my cancer had returned. In other words, the chemotherapy and transplant had not worked.

Since receiving that news, I have been on more chemo treatment, along with lots of pills. I also had a post-transplant complication with my bladder that presented a lot of difficulties for several months. Thankfully, the bladder issue is resolved, although the treatments left me with some side issues that are going to last a while.

Now I am waiting to hear from my doctors for the date of another procedure. A couple of months after that, the doctors will do some more tests and decide what’s next for me. It could be three months or more until I hear about the “what’s next”. I will try to be patient.

On the bright side, my time in the outpatient clinic has dropped dramatically. A few months ago, it was hours a day, every day. Now I am there only three days a week, and some of my visits are only a couple of hours. It is a huge improvement for my quality of life as I go through this cancer fight.

The past year has not been much fun, though. I’ve been going through lots of treatments and hospital stays. I missed holidays with my family and events in my family’s lives. I was in the hospital for all of them. Obviously, it has been hard on my kids to see their dad go through this. But the heaviest burden throughout has been on my wife, as she has done double and triple duty with all the tasks involved in managing a house, family, and pets, while also spending countless hours at the hospital and outpatient clinics with me.

But earlier I mentioned good memories and blessings. We have enjoyed a lot of those, too.

I have heard from a lot of people who I hadn’t heard from in a long time. In some cases, my friends have simply offered encouraging words and support in the forms of cards, emails, visits, texts, and phone calls; in other instances, they have blessed our family with gifts, gift cards, and with money for groceries, meals, and whatever else we needed. I have received lots of books and puzzles to occupy my time in the hospital and in the clinics. Some of my friends traveled hundreds of miles for visits. In one memorable episode, a crew of men – including one guy I’d never met – showed up at our house on a Saturday morning (on relatively short notice[1]) to unload a storage pod and carry a lot of heavy stuff upstairs. Neighbors have helped with house, car, and yard maintenance, often unprompted. One friend even spent several hours drafting my fantasy baseball team for me so that I could participate in my league last year. And he’s doing the same for me in a couple of weeks.

Recently I went back and read something I wrote more than 15 years ago about some health problems my daughter was having: “[T]here have been hundreds, probably thousands, of people praying” for her.

I picked out that quote because I know that since I got sick, there have probably been thousands of people praying for me and for our family. It has been astounding (and humbling) the number of times I have heard that someone has put me/us on a prayer list for their Bible study group, or for their prayer group, or for their church, or for their social media friends.

But things haven’t been so simple. Despite all of those prayers, I didn’t get better the first time. Instead, I had a doctor telling me that my cancer was back and was growing again. Why?

Ten years ago, I went to see the movie “God’s Not Dead” with my dad and my younger son, who was 8. I wasn’t sure my son would really take anything away from the movie. At some point after the movie – maybe in the car on the way home – I asked him if he learned anything from watching it. His answer? “Sometimes God says, ‘No.’”

Whoa. Talk about nailing it. Sometimes God says, “No.” He is not a wishing well. He is not a genie out of a bottle. He is not Santa Claus. Sometimes his plans are not our plans. He still answers our prayers, but not the way we may want.

So why keep praying? In my view, God hasn’t given me a final “no” yet. Instead, maybe the answer for now is, “Not yet.” Or maybe the answer is, “Wait.” As my oncologist said while discussing my relapse, they have a Plan A, B, and C lined up for me. It is not time for me, or for anyone else, to give up.[2] So we keep praying.

I ask for continued prayers for healing. … But I must acknowledge that the people who faithfully pray those prayers may end up hearing “No” in response.

I’m not trying to be dark or depressing by admitting this cancer could kill me. In fact, as a Christian, I am admitting it as a way of lifting everyone up. My death, whenever it may arrive, will not be the end. I will not be worm food and nothing more.

Why not? Because Jesus, the son of God, conquered death. He was crucified, resurrected, appeared to many people, and then re-joined his Father. A small group of his followers – who had virtually no power or influence in the first-century world – ended up changing the world forever by spreading his message. And when I was in my mid-20s, I accepted Jesus as my savior, and that means after I die an earthly death, at some point I will join him in his eternal kingdom … a kingdom with no pain, with no suffering. So I do not fear death.

But neither do I crave it. I want my cancer to disappear. I want to spend the next 40 years with my wife. I want to see my family grow. And yeah, I want to see what happens in the final season of “Stranger Things.” Anyway, I hope God tells me and everyone else, “Yes.” And if he does, I hope that I will be faithful in honoring him.

Honoring God has been something I’ve tried to focus us on since I got sick. Not that I’ve been preaching nonstop or showing my theological chops at every opportunity – far from it. Instead, I have tried to be friendly, to be nice, to be polite, to show those around me that I am not bitter or scared. I have tried to show that I have a reason to not be bitter, to not be scared … on the contrary, I have a reason to feel secure, to feel loved. It has not always been easy. There have been days where I was discouraged, where I felt like I just couldn’t take any more tests, treatments, or pills, where I resented missing yet another family event, where I wanted to tell a doctor or nurse exactly what I thought of them and their efforts. I have cried in front of a doctor despite my best efforts to put up a strong front. I have cried quite a bit, actually.

But I also know that for as much as I detested most of my time in the hospital, the nurses thought that “Mr. Branson” was one of the nicer patients to deal with. They didn’t dread being assigned to me. They didn’t bat an eye when a doctor allowed my younger children to visit me a few times, even though the policy was no visitors under 18. I hope that my trust in God showed through in my actions and my demeanor and that it will continue to do so.[3]

I have posted on and off to this blog for almost nine years. (“On and off” may be generous, as I didn’t do a single post in 2022.) In looking over many of my posts, I’m not sure that I’ve really shared “my story” – i.e., how I ended up accepting Jesus. I have done it a couple of times in front of people at different churches, but I don’t think I’ve put it into writing.

The short version: I was raised in a Christian home, but for me it was largely an exercise in going through the motions and following certain rules. From the time I was 16 or 17 to my mid-20s, I gradually drifted away from any notion of Christian faith and went through various phases of agnosticism and atheism. I met a pretty lady (who is now my wife) in the summer of 2000, and we argued about faith a lot. I even went to church with her when it was the last thing I wanted to do, and I didn’t budge from my opinions. Finally, during one night early in 2001, even while I was on the phone arguing with her again, I felt something akin to a gut punch that could only have been the Holy Spirit. Even after continuing to disagree with her on the phone, after the call I got down on my knees and really prayed for the first time in a long, long time and accepted Jesus as my savior.

And a funny thing I was thinking about recently: I still had my Bible on my bookshelf the whole time. Although I left it mostly untouched for almost 10 years, I could never bring myself to get rid of it. I remember when I got it: I had gone through the confirmation process in the United Methodist Church (when I was 12, I think), and it was time to upgrade from the kids’ Bible I had used up to that point. My mom took me to a Christian bookstore, and I settled on a Ryrie Study Bible (NIV). I guess it was kind of pricey, because the cashier made an unnecessary comment about how I must be getting ready to do a lot of studying. (You’d think a Christian bookstore would be a judgment-free zone with respect to purchases, but apparently not.) That always stuck in my head, and it was at least part of the reason I always kept that Bible, even when it meant very little to me. Almost 40 years later, it is still the Bible I use. It is always interesting to come across parts I have starred or underlined, or notes I have made, and think about where I was in life or what I was studying when I focused on that particular passage. It is interesting to think that God never abandoned me, even when I had abandoned him. He still kept trying to bring me back into the fold, despite my rejection of his love.

My journey has not been perfect by any means. At times I have fallen into old behaviors or habits and have not been a good witness to those around me. At times I have not felt terribly close to God. But I have always stuck with my faith, and I hope that I am still developing into someone who loves God and loves others.[4] As one of my pastors used to say, “We are people in process.”

The past year has not been a lot of fun. And it can be discouraging to think that I am still dealing with the same cancer I was dealing with 12+ months ago, and remission still eludes me.

But I have been leaning on some things for support. The verse of the day feature on my Bible app has come through with passages that seem more relevant than usual. To pick out a few:

Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. (Psalms 23:6)
The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace. (Numbers 6:24-26 … and just a couple of days after this was on the app, I heard a sermon on this passage.)
I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope. (Psalms 130:5)
Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. (Hebrews 10:23)
Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you or forsake you. (Deuteronomy 31:6)

I’ve also been leaning on some Christian music. I don’t listen to a lot of it … frankly, I find a lot of it to be not very good, but there are some songs that have been both moving and helpful.

Man of Sorrows, by Hillsong. It’s an Easter song, but I find a lot of power in it no matter when I listen to it.
My Story, by Big Daddy Weave. It took me a little bit to realize that people in the video were using the typewriter to write “their stories” and then putting them on the cross. It makes me think a lot about what my story is now, and what it will be in the future.
So Will I (100 Billion X), by Hillsong. This song really speaks to how ancient and beautiful God’s creation is, and how reminders of his glory are all around us.
In Jesus Name (God of Possible), by Katy Nichole. My wife sent me this one; it’s a powerful reminder of everyone who has been praying for me.
Psalm 91, by Victory Boyd. Another one from my wife. A great psalm about God’s love and protection for those who love him.

A lot of people from near and far have asked me what they can do to help. My answer has usually been twofold: (1) please keep praying for healing for me, but just as importantly, (2) please pray for my family – for God’s strength, comfort, and peace. As difficult as this has been for me, I know it has been just as hard for my family. No matter what happens in the coming weeks and months, I pray that my family and I will feel God’s love and will continue to love him back.

[1] The guy who was originally supposed to lead the effort was stuck in Niger because of a coup. You can’t make this stuff up.

[2] Jimmy V Week on ESPN definitely hit me differently this year. Please donate to the V Foundation at http://www.v.org (or to another cancer-focused organization) if you feel moved to do so.

[3] I recently came across a good quote from an American missionary: “Lord, make my way prosperous not that I achieve high station, but that my life be an exhibit to the value of knowing God.”

[4] When Jesus was asked what the greatest commandment was, he answered, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” (Matthew 22:37-39)

Loving and Hating in Difficult Days

I’ve written posts before about love and hate. They are a couple of evergreen topics that never fail to provide material even if much of it covers very familiar ground.

But after what I’ve read and heard over the past few weeks, it’s a topic worth revisiting.

What really got me thinking about it was this clip on CNN – it is toward the end of an interview with a man whose son was killed in the October shootings in Maine. In this portion of the interview, the man describes why he doesn’t hate the shooter. Watch the clip — this is what Christ’s love looks like. (And with his Maine accent, there are a few times when he says “Lord” that to me sounded like “law.” He’s saying “Lord,” trust me.)

OK, before you keep reading, all the people who didn’t click on the CNN link and watch the video need to do so. Seriously. It’s three minutes of your attention, and you’ll hear some powerful testimony. It’s worth it.

Not even 30 minutes later, I heard something at the opposite end of the spectrum. CNN was interviewing a relative of someone who had been taken hostage by Hamas after the horrific attack in Israel on October 7. I can’t find a clip to share, so I’m relying on my memory, but at one point the person described Hamas (I don’t think he said this about all Palestinians) as “not people” or “less than human.” The exact phrasing escapes me, but he was calling them sub-human.

I can’t imagine what the families of the hostages are going through – the sorrow, the pain, the fear, the anger, the uncertainty. But going on TV and calling an entire group of people sub-human is pretty hateful. My hope is that the hate has passed, that it was a momentary flash of emotion, but I’m also realistic. I know that all around the world there are people who hate groups of other people. It’s kind of a default setting for how they view these people – usually people they have never met.

Maybe we hate a politician and anyone who supports them. Maybe we hate an ethnic group because of a long-running conflict. Maybe we hate another race because of our twisted, harmful beliefs. There is a lot of hate out there. And people are acting on it.

Here are just a couple of articles about the spike in hate here in the United States. One describes the situation for Muslim and Arab Americans, and one describes the situation for Jewish Americans. Take a few minutes and read about what these people are dealing with … all because of hate.

Right now I’m (slowly) reading a book called Love Your Enemies: How Decent People Can Save America from the Culture of Contempt, by Arthur Brooks. The title is pretty self-explanatory. Contempt is everywhere. We have sorted ourselves into groups in so many ways, and once we are comfortably in the presence of our fellow group members (either physically or virtually), it’s time to tell everyone else how terrible they are. It’s time to be contemptuous, to be hateful.

How to combat this? Let’s be decent people and show everyone some love. But it’s not easy. It’s not easy at all. It’s not easy to separate someone’s extreme beliefs from who they are as a child of God. It’s not easy to condemn someone’s horrific actions and at the same time show them forgiveness and love. This stuff is not for sissies. We have to be willing to do the work, because loving people – all people – is really hard work. Jesus had some thoughts on this, and it doesn’t sound very easy:

But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also. If someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you.

If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even ‘sinners’ love those who love them. And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even ‘sinners’ do that. And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even ‘sinners’ lend to ‘sinners,’ expecting to be paid in full. But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back.
— Luke 6:27-35

There’s a lot in there, some of which clashes with our modern views of law and order or property rights. But I bolded two passages because Jesus says those things twice – love your enemies, and do good to them. The first is about what’s in your heart, and the second is how you act on what’s in your heart.

The beginning of the second paragraph from the Luke excerpt above is instructive as well. Jesus is telling us to get outside of our groups. Being nice to people who are “just like us” is easy. Anyone can do that. But doing good for someone you can’t stand? That’s where the hard work is.

And I don’t have any magic answers for you on how to do this hard work. I struggle with it, too. I think I’m a nice guy, but I still find myself passing up chances to do something nice for someone. We need God to help us change our hearts toward people (i.e., pray for that change), and then we need to take action when we have the chance. And the only way to take action is to put one foot in front of the other and do it. Do it once, and it may be awkward or uncomfortable or leave you feeling not that great … but then do it again. And again. Not everyone will be receptive. But God will honor your heart and your effort even when people tell you to buzz off, for you are showing God’s love to a world that needs it.

As our friend in Maine said in his interview, “You can’t run around this world hating people.” So let’s try loving them instead.

Whose plan is it?

When I got sick a few months ago, many of my thoughts focused on my plans — plans that suddenly had been ruined. I had plans to complete projects at home and projects at work. I had plans to play in some tennis leagues. I had plans to take my family to Florida for vacation.

Getting cancer had not been in any of my plans. But even after my diagnosis, I still found myself planning. For example, I planned to finish this blog post in mid-April. Oops.

“Man plans, and God laughs” is the English translation of an old Yiddish saying. This Psychology Today piece uses it as a starting point for how to deal with both unexpected struggles and successes in life. (As an interesting aside, it’s also the name of a Public Enemy album because the leader of the group heard Julius Erving (my favorite basketball player growing up) mention it in a documentary.)

The Bible has some thoughts on the plans of man and how they compare to the plans of God. One of the most well-known passages appears in Jeremiah 29:11: “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'” Unfortunately, one reason the passage is so well-known is that it is often misconstrued as some sort of guarantee that we will only prosper (i.e., our plans for ourselves will come true) and never encounter hardship.

That view misses a couple of key points. One is that this passage is from a letter Jeremiah sent to about 3,000 Jews who were imprisoned in Babylon. Jeremiah’s goal in this portion of the letter is to encourage the Jews to wait for God’s deliverance (i.e., God’s plan) … which leads to the second point in the next two verses:

“Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”
Jeremiah 29:12-13

When we seek God with all our heart, we must surrender our plans to him. I am still working my way through all of the books that people gave me during my initial stay in the hospital (I think I’m on the last one, actually), but two of the books I’ve finished are relevant to the idea of surrendering to God: (1) Rees Howells, Intercessor (available for free download here); and (2) The Autobiography of George Muller.

The Howells book describes the life of a man guided by only the Holy Spirit — again, this means God’s plans, not man’s plans. Among other things, the book describes how the Holy Spirit changed Howells’ approach to prayer: “[Howells] was no longer to pray for all kinds of things at his own whim or fancy, but only the prayers that the Holy Spirit gave him.” [emphasis added] The Muller book describes his ministry and his devotion to caring for orphans in England. Over the course of several years, the orphanages grew in response to demand, which obviously led to higher operating expenses (including new buildings) … but Muller never asked anyone for money. He never had a capital campaign, took out a building loan, or sent out pledge cards so he could set his budget. Instead, he prayed for God to provide what was needed, and he prayed this prayer again and again for years. And God provided. As this article describes it:

George never did any fund-raising, never asked for any money but prayed every day for the resources needed to care for the orphans. He received answers to his prayers through the generosity of thousands of gifts given or sent to him by the people of Bristol and, as the work grew, from all over the world. In his lifetime, he received over £100m in today’s money and cared for over 10,000 orphans in his lifetime.

The books describe the remarkable lives of two men who may have had plans of their own but instead handed everything to God. To go back to the Bible on this topic:

In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.
Proverbs 16:9

The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him; though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand.
Psalm 37:23-24

In January – a few weeks before I got sick – I made another plan, although it was one I hope God shared for me. I joined a men’s group that was undertaking a spiritual exercise called Exodus 90. My illness derailed my ability to participate at anything close to a 100% level, but I tried to keep up with the daily readings and kept in touch with the other men in the group. The reading for one day included the following:

When God asks you to do a specific thing at a specific time, it is because he has a plan in mind for you and those in your life. You may not know the whole picture, but you can trust that the plan is good. That doesn’t mean it won’t be challenging or uncomfortable. But it will always be good, even in its precise timing. God called you to a challenging and uncomfortable time, yet you are probably able to see results, even if the whole plan is not yet clear to you. [emphasis in original]

The Exodus 90 project included reading the entire book of Exodus. In the book, there are multiple times the Israelites — even after being miraculously freed from slavery — don’t want to follow God’s plan. They complain. They say they want to go back to Egypt. They build an idol. They refuse to enter the promised land because it sounds dangerous. And it was not the only time in the Old Testament that they complained about what God was doing. At one point, the prophet Isaiah told them:

Why do you complain, Jacob? Why do you say, Israel, “My way is hidden from the Lord; my cause is disregarded by my God?” Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.
Isaiah 40:27-31

But let’s not be too hard on the Israelites. We complain all the time today, don’t we? Our ideas about how things should go don’t come to fruition, so we whine. We moan. We say it’s unfair. We forget to turn our thoughts to God’s plans — plans we often cannot even begin to grasp.

For a more modern, although fictionalized, example of this scenario, let’s turn to Ray Kinsella, the protagonist of the 1989 movie Field of Dreams. For those who haven’t seen the movie, Ray is a struggling farmer who destroys a significant portion of his cornfield so that he can spend lots of time and money to build a baseball field … all because a mysterious “voice” told him to. Everyone thinks he is crazy, but he stays the course (reluctantly at times), and all kinds of interesting things happen to Ray and the people around him. I don’t remember when or why, but at some point I came across an old movie review that describes Field of Dreams as “the best Christian parable in movie history.” I encourage you to read the entire article, but here is a (lengthy) excerpt. At the risk of pointing out the obvious, the author is comparing “The Voice” in the movie to God in our lives:

For Ray, his actual mortgage hangs in the balance. To build a baseball field — one that has no apparent purpose, no less — on the very land he grows his crops (i.e. his livelihood) is foolishness, and it’s certain to cost him the very land that he feels led to transform.

But he follows The Voice anyway because it’s about what The Voice wants, on The Voice’s terms.

Ray makes a decision to submit. It’s a decision he must continually resubmit to in the face of mounting reasons not to, including his own bitterness about how things are working out for him (or aren’t).

…

One key lesson for Ray is that his journey is not just about him reaching his necessary healing; it’s also about helping others reach theirs. I’ve often found that the only way God can get me to help others is to cause me to initially think that these people were meant for my journey, rather than me for theirs. We each love to see ourselves as the lead in Our Story, but The Voice likes to cast us as the supporting catalyst in others.

The Voice doesn’t call you to your bliss; it calls you to other’s burdens. It doesn’t call you to your dreams; it calls you to ministry. It calls you to your life’s true purpose, a holy vocation, a calling that your passions and reason are quite possibly (even likely) distracting you from, not pointing you towards. That’s why it takes supernatural guidance, a kind beyond one’s own understanding, to lead you there.

To go back to one of the key sentences above: We follow God anyway because it’s about what God wants, on God’s terms. Planning can be prudent, even wise. But when we make and follow a plan, we should pause and ask … whose plan is it?

How it started; how it’s going

I have had the best intentions of posting a blog entry many times during the many months since my last post. Things kept getting in the way … well, who am I kidding: I kept letting things get in the way.

But now I find myself at a time in life when I suddenly and unexpectedly have a lot of time on my hands. Here is what’s been going on.

Day -10

(The numbering will make sense shortly, I promise.) I have a fever and don’t feel so great.

Days -8 through -6

I take Advil in the morning and gut through the workday, but I now have a dull, constant headache on top of an off-and-on fever. At night I can’t do anything except lie down.

Day -5

I go to urgent care in the morning. They do a chest X-ray and test for multiple diseases, but everything is clear. They tell me they don’t know what’s wrong but that they’ll try some antibiotics.

Day -4

I take a sick day from work. My wife convinces me to go ahead and schedule an appointment with my doctor, on the assumption that the antibiotics probably aren’t the answer. My wife is wise.

Day -2

I start developing pain in an area where men don’t want to have pain.

Day -1

I go to the doctor’s office first thing. They do some other tests but seem equally mystified. They will try a different, stronger antibiotic, and they do some basic blood tests and schedule a follow-up appointment in a few days.

I go back home, turn on my laptop, and get to work.

About three hours after the blood draw, my doctor calls me and asks if my wife can be on the phone, too. Huh. That doesn’t sound good.

I get my wife and put the doctor on speaker. The doctor’s message is direct: I have your blood test results. I think you have leukemia, and you need to go to the ER immediately.

Um, sure, Doc, whatever you say.

An hour later, I am at the ER. I stay there for nine hours. I am tested for many things. The hospital doesn’t have access to my blood test results (I guess because it’s not part of the same company as my doctor’s office), but thankfully I can pull the results up on my phone and show them to the doctors. I am admitted to the hospital.

Day 0

Things are pretty much a blur, but the doctors are sure I have leukemia. They do a bone marrow biopsy so they can find out what kind.

Day 1

(And this is where the numbering starts to make sense.) The doctors have the results on the general type of leukemia I have but are waiting on more details because it comes in several sub-types. They start me on a 7-day regimen of chemotherapy – that’s why this is Day 1. I am hooked up to an IV 24 hours a day for the next 7 days, which is not so great.

Day 4

The pain that men don’t like to have has gone away. It was miserable. I am thankful.

Day 8

The doctors learned my sub-type a few days ago, and I start a 14-day regimen of chemotherapy aimed at this specific sub-type. This chemo involves taking pills twice a day, and I get unhooked from the IV. Freedom is good.

Day 21

It’s my last day of the second round of chemo. The side effects have been relatively minimal, but my hair is disappearing at a rapid rate.

Day 24

My wife brings in some clippers and gives my sparsely-populated head a much-needed trim. What is left of my hair looks much better.

Day 26

Another quiet day. At this point, I am in waiting mode — waiting for some of my blood numbers to increase so the doctors can do another biopsy to assess how the chemo worked and to figure out what’s next.

But I’m not writing this to be a medical diary.

My original purpose in starting this blog was to share my thoughts as I walk through this life with God. I am not a theologian, but I wanted to write things that would hopefully encourage other Christians and maybe pique the interest of some non-Christians, too.

So as I sit and wait in the hospital, I am pondering some things about the past few weeks.

First, I have felt – and continue to feel – very secure in God’s loving hands. To state what may be obvious: I am praying for full and complete healing (and I know many others are as well, which I’ll address later). I do not find myself asking “Why me?” or thinking that this is so unfair. I think I have written before about how it’s a very good thing that we don’t get what we deserve, given that we all fall short of God’s glory. This disease is something that happens to lots of people, and in this instance, it’s happening to me. There really isn’t anything more to it. I walk around my unit, and I see patient rooms with signs like “hot zone”, “no visitors”, or “protective equipment required”, or even a room with correctional officers stationed by it … meanwhile, I can go down to the lobby and pick up some Starbucks if I feel like it. “Woe is me” is not the right posture here.

Second, I have been stunned by the number of people who have reached out to my family and me with offers of assistance, actual assistance, and words of prayer, hope, and encouragement. I have heard from people who I haven’t been in touch with in years – cards, emails, texts, phone calls, gifts … so many kind gestures. I am grateful for all of it, especially the help for my family, as this has been incredibly hard on them. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that there are hundreds of people praying for me – that is a very powerful thought and also very humbling. I think my wife already mentioned this in another social media post, but at times I feel a bit like George Bailey at the end of “It’s a Wonderful Life”; the level of support has been overwhelming.

And third, I find myself feeling thankful. I am thankful that God hears our prayers and answers them (even if it may not be exactly how we want him to answer them). I am thankful that God has given us the intelligence and skills to continue to advance medical science, so that someone in my position can receive types of care that didn’t even exist until recently. I am thankful for the people at my hospital who come in and out of my room every day, determined to take care of me the best they can. I am thankful for the peace that comes with being a son of God – that no matter what, he has me.

I have received many praise songs, Bible passages, and other readings from fellow Christians. In so many instances, it was something I needed to hear right at that moment. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. My wife liked this one and hung it up in my hospital room:

Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.” The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.       -- Lamentations 3:21-26 (NIV)

My heart is full of hope, and I am waiting quietly.

(Note: I’m not sure how many of these posts I will do in the coming weeks and months. How I feel can change quite a bit from day to day, and I get tired pretty easily. I wrote this post in pieces over the course of a couple of weeks. I value every single prayer offered on behalf of my family and me. Thank you so, so much.)

Getting dressed and getting ready

Before I leave the house for any reason, I make sure I’m dressed appropriately (although my wife may question that statement). Whether I’m going to work, or to the grocery store, or to play tennis, or to church, I have a set of minimum standards for what I’m wearing for each situation. Since I never see naked people in the places I go, I assume I’m not alone in this approach.

Many public establishments take the “no shirt, no shoes, no service” approach for acceptable attire. (Some places say “no dice” for the last part.) Pants aren’t mentioned, but I guess that’s taken for granted – a reminder on that front couldn’t hurt, though.

As a Christian, what else should I put on before I head into the world? Paul gave us a list in this well-known passage:

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.
Ephesians 6:10-18 (emphasis added)

There is plenty of writing online on the various pieces of the “full armor of God” and what they mean, so I’m not going to delve into that. My focus is on the action phrase, one that is easy to overlook if we get too drawn into the armor/weaponry metaphor: Simply getting dressed isn’t enough. To be truly ready for the world and its challenges, we need to “pray in the Spirit on all occasions.”

I’ve never served in the military, but I’ve seen plenty of TV shows and movies about the armed forces (so that makes me an expert, right?). Obviously there are varying degrees of reality in Hollywood depictions of the military, but one thing you see is that before a group heads out on a mission, they’re given instructions: where to go, what time to go, what the objective is, who else is going, what the dangers are, etc. It’s not a case of, “OK, here’s your equipment, now go get the bad guys,” with no other information provided. There is additional preparation involved – i.e., they need to get ready.

Similarly, it’s not enough for me to put my Bible in my car or put a Bible app in my phone. It’s a tough world out there, full of the “flaming arrows of the evil one.” Before I go on my mission for the day, I need to pray – that’s how I should get ready. There is no one-size-fits-all approach to praying, but one acronym helps keep me focused: ACTS.

A: Adoration – praise God for who he is.
C: Confession – confess my sins to God and ask him for forgiveness.
T: Thankfulness – thank God for his blessings.
S: Supplication – humbly make requests to God, either for myself or for other people.

Recently I’ve heard reminders about the importance of prayer throughout the day, even if it’s just 60 seconds to pause and acknowledge God, his greatness, and his love for us. One person even expressed in frustration that it seems like by 10 a.m., he’s an atheist – the point being that even after “getting ready” in the morning, the world has hit him hard in just a couple of hours. Staying in touch with God – our “mission control,” I suppose – throughout the day is the only good way for our armor to be effective. As Paul said in one of his other letters, we should “pray continually” (1 Thessalonians 5:17) – one “check the box” prayer in the morning probably isn’t going to cut it.

Finally, a prayer at the end of the day can serve as an important “debrief” with our commanding officer (just to make sure we’re one the same page – I’m referring to God). We can thank him; we can confess where we fell short; and we can pray about the next day.

And hopefully we can go to sleep feeling that we did a good job in our armor and feeling God’s love for us, even if the world wasn’t too lovely that day.

The (very) unpopular kids

Lately when I’ve read or watched the news, I’ve found myself thinking about the “bad” (or sometimes supposedly bad) people in the story.

Questions run through my head: Am I getting the full story? What is this going to do to their lives? Why did they do such a thing?

(Before I go any further: Yes, I am concerned about the victims in the stories, too. But that’s the easy part. I’m talking about the hard part.)

A few examples – in no particular order, and with varying degrees of severity – that I’ve seen in recent months:

A fraternity pledge died at a fraternity event.
A hit-and-run driver killed a police officer.
Multiple politicians did pretty bad things.
Police officers committed unwarranted acts of brutality.
Human trafficking continued.
People were taken to task for things they wrote or said years ago, even as teenagers.

I read over this list, and there are some awful, terrible acts here – acts that grieve God’s heart, and should grieve my heart, too.

But I also keep coming back to the bad actors in each story and to the need for compassion. Jesus showed compassion to a wide variety of unpopular people. If I’m serious about being a follower of Christ, I need to do the same thing.

One particular example of Christian compassion is burned into my brain. (And maybe I’ve mentioned this before, but I can’t remember.) I went to church on the Sunday that followed the 9/11 attacks in 2001, and during one of the prayers, the pastor prayed for “the soul of Osama bin Laden.” In other words, he prayed for his heart to turn toward good, toward Jesus. We’re talking about the mastermind of these attacks, and the pastor prayed for him to find salvation in Christ. This wasn’t some hippy-dippy church, either – this was a Southern Baptist church where the pastor was a solid Republican.

So in the list above, I keep coming back to the bad actors. Have their lives been shattered by one moment of bad judgment? Or if they’re repeat bad actors, why have they apparently embraced such an evil path? And then I think about the plank in my own eye … and I am thankful that the world has not judged me by the worst thing I ever did or said. (Seriously – stop and think about that last point.)

I guess a simplistic, perhaps trite, summary of compassion is, “Hate the sin, love the sinner.” No one – NO ONE – is beyond the reach of God’s grace, and if that’s true, then I shouldn’t turn my back on anyone as irredeemable.

I read a book a couple of months ago that captures this concept perfectly. The book is called Consumed by Hate, Redeemed by Love: How a Violent Klansman Became a Champion of Racial Reconciliation. Tom Tarrants was a really bad person doing really bad things and was almost killed by law enforcement when he was caught trying to plant a bomb. He survived, found Jesus in prison, and went on to have a remarkable career at the C.S. Lewis Institute. (For those who may not know, C.S. Lewis was an ex-atheist who became one of the top Christian writers of the 20^th century and was also a member of the Inklings.) I encourage you to read Tarrants’ book.

I also encourage you to think about compassion and how to cultivate it in your heart for everyone you may encounter. It’s not easy – just yesterday, I almost blew up at an employee at an auto parts store. I managed to keep my cool but was left feeling judgmental of the employee, until I was able to calm down and think about him in more compassionate terms … how he was just trying to help, how he probably deals with lots of annoying customers every day, how he honestly didn’t realize the credit card terminal wasn’t working, etc. I’m not saying to go around making excuses for everyone, but take some time to think about what may be going on that you’re not aware of. It takes practice to think this way.

Compassion isn’t reserved for face-to-face interaction, though. Keep compassion in mind when you consume news, too. Much of the news is packaged in a way to stir outrage and righteous indignation, to play to our emotions and our preconceived notions. If we stop at our initial reaction, though, we may miss the chance for compassion – for a chance to stop, think, and love someone (even if it’s just praying for them) who may not be very popular at the moment.

“Politics is a good thing” (or at least it can be)

I’ve been reading a lot lately. Fed up with my long-ignored and ever-growing “need to read” list, I asked for little other than books for Christmas, and I found myself with 10+ new things to read in 2021.

A couple of weeks ago, I finished one of my new reads: Compassion & Conviction: The AND Campaign’s Guide to Faithful Civic Engagement. The tagline on the back cover definitely made me feel like I was in the right place: “Have you ever felt too progressive for conservatives, but too conservative for progressives?” (Nods head, raises hand.)

The book is a fairly short read, and if you’re curious, there are plenty of reviews of it online. My overly simplistic summary:

Christians should be engaged in politics.
Our faith should inform our political views, not the other way around.
No political group or party is perfect, and we get into trouble when we let our identity as part of a worldly group or party override our identity as Christians.
As Christians, we must combine our compassion (love of others) and conviction (love of God) to produce thoughtful, loving views on potential solutions to the problems of the day.

If you’re curious about the AND Campaign’s views, click here (or better yet, read the book). I don’t expect anyone to agree with every single thing, but I hope it will at least make you think about why you think what you think. Christians can obviously disagree on policy solutions – the how to solve a problem – but hopefully we can be on the same page when it comes to what those problems are. Here is the final paragraph from the AND Campaign link:

We believe politics has to be about more than the acquisition and use of power by any means necessary. Good policy does not justify bad or destructive politics. The AND Campaign believes in political engagement that is characterized by earnest conviction, humility and civility, and we encourage politicians and others in politics to reflect these characteristics as well. We believe earnest conviction is important, because a politics of obfuscation and misdirection undermines the functioning of our politics. Politicians should say what they mean and mean what they say, and we will always try to do the same. We believe humility is important, because politics and policy making are complicated, and the history of public policy is full of unintended consequences and misplaced priorities. We refuse to put the stamp of religious authority on prudential policy decisions. We hold convictions about what is best in our politics, but we hold these views with the understanding that we might be wrong. Politicians and others in politics should entertain that notion as well. Finally, we believe that civility reflects a basic recognition of the dignity of our fellow citizens. A politics of contempt and disrespect will never be capable of delivering policies that promote the common good. We commit to respecting the dignity of those we disagree with to the best of our ability.

That sounds pretty good to me. Humility, civility, telling the truth. Even if we don’t see these things in many of our elected officials, maybe we can start with embracing them in our own lives and go from there.

Like anything else humans touch, of course, politics isn’t without its drawbacks. When I read something like this article about how political polarization has made seemingly everything in our lives toxic, it makes me want to go live in an off-the-grid compound somewhere in Wyoming so I don’t have to deal with any of this stuff.^[1] Here is what polarization gets us:

Americans, then, are increasingly making decisions along tribal political lines, potentially depriving themselves of rewarding friendships, better-paying jobs, well-reasoned judgments, and optimal goods and services. But by choosing beverages, beans, sports equipment, and employment according to tribal affiliation, they are also losing points of shared interest with people who disagree with them. The people they see in their neighborhoods, at concerts, and in their chosen restaurants likely share their views on hot-button issues, because those who disagree live, party, and shop elsewhere. That further reduces the opportunity for connections across partisan boundaries.

We need to be around people with whom we disagree. We need to be able to work with people with whom we disagree. I have two very small examples that point to the good and the bad.

Good: Several years ago I went to an R.E.M. concert. Before they did this song, Michael Stipe mentioned how much he disliked President George W. Bush’s administration. (He may have said it more colorfully than that.) But he immediately followed up with words to the effect of, “And if you disagree with me, that’s OK, because this is the U.S.A., and we can disagree on things.” Right on.
Bad: A few years ago, one of my friends posted something on Facebook about how a politician on the “other side” was working with “her side” on a particular issue, and she was happy about that. So far, so good … but friends on “her side” flooded her post with comments about how much they disliked the “other side” politician, they didn’t need his help, they didn’t want to work with him, he was a jerk, etc. Sigh.

To be clear: There is nothing wrong with belonging to a political party. In some situations, it may be the only realistic way to have an effective voice on an issue. But to go back to one of the points of Compassion & Conviction: Our party affiliation can’t be our first allegiance. Politicians shouldn’t be our saviors.

We already have a savior, remember? His name is Jesus. In his most famous sermon, he talked about being salt and light:

You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.
You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.
Matthew 5:13-16

As Christians, we can’t just throw up our hands when faced with political problems (or any other problems, for that matter). We need to be salt and light to those around us. As the article linked above says, we need to harness both the power of example and the power of truth.

It’s not easy. And as a politically homeless individual, I’m not sure where to start. My pipe dream is to start my own political party, as I suspect there may be a decent number of other people who agree with me – at least in broad strokes – more than they disagree with me. But that sounds like a lot of work, and I already have a family, job, bills to pay, etc. I’m not sure if that’s really what is in the cards for me (but never say never, right?).

In the meantime, though, I will try to share my Spirit-led compassion and conviction with others, including when dealing with politics. I hope that will be a good thing.

(One note: The quote in the title of this post is the somewhat famous slogan of Prof. Larry Sabato at UVa’s Center for Politics.)

(One more note: In case you’re interested, I’ve written about politics-ish things a few times before: see here, here, here, and here. And here. Oh, and here, too.)

Other items of interest on truth and truthiness

I came across this article about a recent poll conducted by the American Enterprise Institute, which is a right-leaning think tank. About 60 percent of white evangelicals who responded said that President Biden was not legitimately elected. About 25 percent seemed to think QAnon was valid. From the article: “As with a lot of questions in the survey, white evangelicals stand out in terms of their belief in conspiracy theories.” Sigh.

Christians need to be careful about the “prophets” we listen to. Excerpts:
- “Many [supposed prophets] are independent evangelists who do not lead churches or other institutions. They operate primarily online and through appearances at conferences or as guest speakers in churches, making money through book sales, donations and speaking fees. And they are part of the rising appeal of conspiracy theories in Christian settings, echoed by the popularity of QAnon among many evangelicals and a resistance to mainstream sources of information.”
- “‘In my lifetime — 49 years as a follower of Jesus — I’ve never seen this level of interest in prophecy,’ said Michael Brown, an evangelical radio host and commentator, who believes in prophecy but has called for greater accountability when prophecies prove false. ‘And it’s unfortunate, because it’s an embarrassment to the movement.’”
- “The result is that many congregations are awash in misinformation. Almost half of Protestant pastors frequently hear members of their congregations repeating conspiracy theories about current events, according to a survey released last month by Lifeway Research, which is affiliated with the Southern Baptist Convention.”

Sometimes telling the truth gets you fired. An excerpt: “Having worked in cable news for more than a decade after a wonderfully misspent youth in newspapers, I can tell you the result: a nation of news consumers both overfed and malnourished. Americans gorge themselves daily on empty informational calories, indulging their sugar fixes of self-affirming half-truths and even outright lies.”

[1] You may have heard of The Benedict Option. The book doesn’t advocate for moving to Wyoming or any other type of retreatism. “[P]olitics will not save us. … [but] the Benedict Option does not believe Christians should abandon politics.

“As Christians, we have a responsibility to be good citizens, which means being engaged with politics. We should advocate for our vision of human flourishing. We should offer a prophetic witness to those in power. Some Christians will be called to run for office and work in the government, and that is good! We just have to make sure we do not fall back into the trap of idolizing politics.”

What is truth?

At the end of 2019, my Bible study group agreed that each of us would come up with a “word for the year” for 2020. I completely forgot about it until the last meeting of the year – when we were supposed to talk about our word – and on the spot, I chose “action.”

I chose it because I wanted to fight my tendency to be passive in my faith. Christianity is not a spectator sport.

Unfortunately, a more appropriate word for my 2020 experience turned out to be “reaction.” Like so many of us, I felt like things just kept coming at me and at my family, and the best I could do was try to deal with each of them. Simply getting through each day could be exhausting. Taking any sort of action or initiative seemed beyond my capabilities much of the time. I prayed a lot for peace, as I certainly wasn’t finding any peace in world events.

Last month, it was time to pick my word for 2021. This time, I actually thought about it and prayed about it, and I kept coming back to one word: Truth. Five letters, one syllable – but an infinite number of layers to consider.

Jesus answered, “You are right in saying that I am a king. In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this reason I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”
“What is truth?” Pilate asked.
John 18:37-38

Two thousand years later, we’re still asking the same question.

What is truth?

A few stipulations before we dig in:

No human has a monopoly on truth. That includes me. Any attempt to posture as an ultimate arbiter of truth in all things is vain, prideful, and sinful … and doomed to fail.
For 2021 (and beyond), then, I need to be humble and seek wisdom in my efforts to find and to spread truth.
Here are two truths that are the foundation of my faith.
1. John 3:16: For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.
1. Matthew 22:37-40: Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

In 2021, we have a plethora of places to seek our own customized, comfortable versions of truth. Websites, TV networks, podcasts, think tanks, public policy organizations, books, social media … the list goes on. They offer a chance to create our own reality, a reality that too often does not challenge our biases and preconceptions but instead confirms and strengthens them.

Then we proclaim our truth! And so does everyone else. But when my “truths” differ from another person’s “truths,” where does that get us? When everyone is yelling “I’m right, and you’re wrong!” at the same time, there is no room for discussion. There is no room for recognizing that many issues involve nuanced, complex problems that require nuanced, complex solutions that will probably take years, not days, to have full effect. Talking about nuances and complexities doesn’t get you elected (and re-elected), it doesn’t drive social media traffic, and it doesn’t get ratings. Who needs it?

I’m not going to pick on any specific networks, publications, or websites, as they all have their shortcomings. For my part, the websites I go to for most of my local/national/world news are:

My local newspaper’s website – I want to stay current on what’s happening in my area.
The Associated Press – The AP covers the globe and usually does so in a “just the facts” manner.
Google News – a good collection of articles from a wide variety of sources.
Drudge Report – Matt Drudge doesn’t pretend to be non-partisan (a careful analysis of the links he picks can reveal some biases), but he also collects a variety of news from around the world, including interesting news that may be overlooked by more mainstream sources.

These sites aren’t perfect, but I think they help to give me a reasonable view of the world so that I can grasp worldly truth more often than not.

That’s fine for me, but I know not everyone takes the same approach. And I’m not immune from the “I’m right, and you’re wrong!” reaction, either, as much as I try to avoid it.

So how do I – and how do my fellow Christians – spread truth in a world full of lies? (Aside: I think “lies” usually conveys some sort of bad intent. I suspect that’s why the word “misinformation” has become so popular. “Misinformation” is a way of capturing the “I didn’t mean to” or “I didn’t know better; I thought it was true” approach to spreading things that aren’t true. For the sake of brevity, though, I’m going to use “lies.”)

I saved this Christianity Today editorial from 2018. In a narrow sense, it focuses on immigration policy, but in a broader sense, it provides valuable guidance on how Christians should deal with political disagreements. Increasingly, I fear, our “political disagreements” have become fights between competing sets of “facts,” so how do we find common ground when we have separate facts?

As the editorial says up front, Christians must “figure out how to help people see Jesus when we don’t agree.” In other words, if we’re telling people “Jesus is the truth, and you should believe me when I say that,” we need to be really careful that we’re not ruining our credibility by taking other stances that turn out to be lies. If we don’t embrace truth in our worldly lives, how can we expect people to believe us when it comes to our faith?

Here a few particularly cogent excerpts from the editorial:

And so on many important issues, Christians have different views. It’s perhaps why Jesus didn’t say that the world will recognize him when we take the right stands together. Instead he says, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35).
…
When we are rude and hostile to one another, we signal that we love only some neighbors. More to the point: We love our political allies but not so much our brothers and sisters who take a different view.
…
It seems to us that the first step in loving those with whom we disagree is to take the trouble to listen, really listen, to what they believe and why.
…
Even when we disagree with those who differ from us, we can enter the debate recognizing that they too bring something true and right to the discussion. It may even result in us finding some powerful points of agreement.

That last point has been especially challenging lately, simply because many people who “enter the debate” clearly have not had anything “true and right” to bring to the discussion. There is loving, fruitful discussion of disagreements, and then there is telling someone, “No way – that’s not even close to true.” Or, more often, “Well, that one thing you said is kind of true, but you’ve misconstrued it and drawn all sorts of conclusions that are way off.”

And that can be dangerous territory. It requires humility and wisdom, as I said before. Sometimes outright correction is necessary, but maybe it shouldn’t be the first tool we take out of the toolbox.

The last three paragraphs of the CT piece sum up things incredibly well:

We’re not calling for a live and let live approach, the lazy “everybody has their own truth” and “why can’t we all get along?” It’s our duty to carefully read Scripture and prayerfully think through issues, and come to firm convictions. That often means we’ll come to different conclusions.
But we need the very believers who do not see things our way. When it comes to political solutions to complex problems, we see in a mirror dimly. Even when we have to end up disagreeing about the best way forward, it’s rare that charitable listening doesn’t help us see more clearly. And we’ll sometimes find, surprisingly enough, that we agree on more than we had imagined. And when we can’t agree, we can continue the debate until events and Providence reveal a larger truth we can both see clearly.
And maybe, along the way, an unbelieving world will see us striving for justice, living mercifully with one another, and walking humbly with our Lord—and they just may recognize him for who he is. (emphasis added)

If that last part sounds familiar, it comes from the prophet Micah, and it’s probably my favorite Bible passage:

He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.
Micah 6:8

I came across the Jewish practice of havruta in an old article that is now behind a paywall, but this free article provides a good summary. It highlights the saying, “o havruta o mituta,” which loosely tells us “the individual needs society and the respect of others, and without them life is not worth living.” We need each other. We need each other’s wisdom. We need each other’s respect. We can’t do this if we hide ourselves in a bubble, emerging only to yell our “truth” before retreating to safety. We need havruta. We need to pursue truth together; it needs to be a team sport.

Group Bible study is a great team activity that provides a chance to have fellowship with people who don’t see things the same way. The Bible is full of passages where different thinkers have drawn different lessons, and sharing thoughts with a group is a good way to discover things you missed or got wrong when you were reading on your own. It’s a great way to “love your neighbor” because you not only discuss Biblical interpretation, but you also discuss how to apply Biblical instructions to the world … and not everyone always agrees (and that’s OK).

This week I was cleaning off my desk and came across some notes I scribbled down at some point in the past few months. I didn’t write down the date or who was speaking, but I know they’re from an online discussion I watched. It may have been this one, but I’m not sure.

Anyway, my notes boiled down to this:

Mutual love requires protection, respect, and correction.
We should reject tribalism because people will lie, cheat, and steal for the tribe.
We should seek truth, not applause.

Those are challenging points for me because I can trip over one while trying to do another. For example, if I correct someone in a public forum (e.g., social media), am I doing it in the name of truth, or am I doing it for applause? Satan loves to take our best intentions and to twist them to further his agenda. He is the ultimate source of non-truth – he tells us lies about ourselves, about God, about everything. If I charge headlong into a one-man Campaign for Truth in my own strength and with my own agenda, then Satan is going to be all too happy to “help” me in my quest … and I’ll just be another person shouting my own version of truth (i.e., LIES) as opposed to God’s truth.

Last year was discouraging for a lot of reasons, but one of the biggest for me was how much I saw my fellow Christians – including some very high-profile ones – spreading lies. Often this was done in service to tribalism. It sure looked like they cared more about their particular tribe, or in getting applause from fellow tribe members, than they did about loving God or loving others. To be clear: Spreading lies fulfills neither of these two commandments, and it does us no credit in our efforts to tell others about how they can have salvation through Jesus Christ.

Rather than retreat in my discouragement, which I did a lot in 2020, this year I want to encourage others. I want to encourage you, and myself, to seek truth in all things. It won’t be easy, but God will help all of us if we let him (as Moses said in today’s verse of the day in my Bible app):

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of [enemies], for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.
Deuteronomy 31:6

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One recurring struggle in my blogging is that I read more interesting articles than I could ever work into this blog. If you’ve read this far, here is my initial 2021 foray into sharing some of them.

Some of the quotes in this article about people going to Joe Biden’s inauguration are stunning. Foolishness knows no political boundaries.

This PolitiFact piece is downright spooky in that I mentioned many of the same points (without having read this piece) in response to an online post about the Covid-19 relief bill. Someone else disputed what I had posted … and then I remembered why I dislike social media. Discouraged, I deleted my comment. Maybe I will be a little more encouraged to engage in 2021, as long as I do it for the right reasons and do it in a loving way.

Today is the 9^th day of Christmas, and this version of the 12 Days of the Christmas is still a fun one. Happy New Year, eh.

Loving others in strange days

I look at March 13 as the day that everything changed in my life. It was the last day of in-person school for my kids. It was my last day of going to the office as part of my normal routine.

I haven’t physically been to church since then, although I’ve been faithful about worshiping online on Sunday mornings. I still do my Friday morning Bible study with my men’s group, but now it’s via Zoom.

Obviously, I’m not the only one whose life has changed. Everyone’s lives seem to have been affected in some way by the COVID-19 virus (for ease of reference, “the virus”), and that doesn’t appear to be changing any time soon.

We’ve had a lot of non-virus news since March 13, too. And everyone seems to have a strong opinion about all of it – or maybe those are just the people who are yelling the loudest. It can be hard to ignore them.

I’ve tried not to engage in my own yelling. I’ve mostly kept a low profile on social media, and I haven’t done a lot of cheering for things I agree with or a lot of griping about things I don’t. I’m not a very confrontational person to begin with, and lately it feels like most of the confrontations I see are even less productive than usual.

I’ve been praying more, although probably still not as much as I should. Ditto for reading my Bible. And during my prayer, reading, and just thinking time, I keep coming back to one passage:

Hearing that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, the Pharisees got together. One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”
Jesus replied: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”
Matthew 22:34-40

“Love your neighbor as yourself.” Five short words, but an infinite amount of wisdom to unpack. If you Google it, you can find lots of writings and videos about this passage by people who have much more Christian wisdom than I do, but you’re probably not friends with them, so I hope my thoughts carry some weight with you, too.

I keep asking myself what “love your neighbor as yourself” has meant since March 13. It’s clearly something I should always be doing, but since the virus has shown up, loving others has struck me as being much more important than usual.

People are stressed. People are dealing with things beyond their control. People are frustrated. People don’t know what to think when faced with so much inconsistent information from so many sources with such varying levels of credibility. People have cabin fever. People don’t like being told what to do to begin with. People love being around their family, but not this much.

When faced with all this, day after day after day, people need to feel loved. I can sit here and tell you that God loves you, but that can feel kind of remote (or even non-existent, if you don’t believe in God).

So as a Christian, it falls to me to love people and to make people feel loved. That’s not the most natural thing to do under normal circumstances, so how have I been looking at it for the past 20 weeks? (Twenty weeks … seriously? Yeesh.)

I’ve been thinking about four big things that have happened during those 20 weeks. In roughly chronological order:

Staying at home.
Anti-racism.
Masks.
Returning to school.

Staying at home

Who wants to be told to stay at home? Who wants to be told to stay at home by the $#@$#$%$#% government especially? Not me. As a “small l” libertarian, I am naturally skeptical of government overreach, and at first glance, this seemed like a perfect example of it. What do you mean I can’t go to the office? What do you mean I can’t go out to eat? What do you mean sports are cancelled? This is nuts! And you’re nuts!

But it’s about more than me.

Yes, part of staying home is making sure that I don’t get the virus, but there’s more to it. If I stay home, I won’t get the virus and perhaps unknowingly transmit it to someone else. If I stay home, I will help stop the spread. If I stay home, I’m loving others as myself.

I understand that some people think this virus business has been tremendously overblown. They want to keep doing what they do, and they’re fine with everyone else doing it as well – isn’t that loving others, too? Many of them are very vocal about the perceived merits of this approach.

So what do I do with these people? I have to love them. I don’t have a choice. If I’m serious about being a Christian, I have to love them. Honestly, for much of these 20 weeks, that has meant keeping my trap shut. That has meant putting my phone down. That has meant walking away from the keyboard when I’m just itching to lay down the truth on someone.

I don’t agree with their virus-related views, and I especially don’t agree with some of their actions, but I have to understand a couple of things: (1) I’m not going to convince them otherwise, and (2) God loves them, which means I have to do so. I cannot condemn them as people, as creatures made in God’s image, even when it may feel temporarily good to do just that.

I also know there are the people who say, “But what about truth? Isn’t part of loving someone telling them the truth when they’re wrong?”

Yes, you’re right. (How is that for a loving answer?) But … we also need some wisdom about how and when to share that truth. Blasting someone on Twitter or Facebook probably isn’t going to get the job done – see my remark above about keeping my trap shut. If someone knows that I love them – if I show that to them first – maybe later they will be more receptive when I mention I disagree with them about something. I’m not coming in with guns blazing; instead I’m coming to them in humility, in quiet, and in love.

So to recap on this point: I’m loving others as myself by (a) staying home, and (b) staying quiet.

Anti-racism

Black Lives Matter has been around for a while, but it has taken until 2020 for it to really capture the nation’s attention. Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd … you know the names, you’ve watched the videos.

I’m not going to preach to you about white privilege, systemic racism, or any of that. If you’ve spent any time thinking seriously about this, you already have opinions. I’m not going to get into the weeds arguing about peaceful protests versus violent riots or whether all of Black Lives Matter’s organizational goals and opinions are laudable ones.

I will make a couple of simple points for your consideration:

The reason I agree with the statement (not the organization) “black lives matter” is that for too long, in too many ways, the U.S. has made it clear that black lives don’t matter as much as other lives. That’s why we need to acknowledge that black lives matter.
If you’re skeptical about the notion of systemic racism, there are a lot of books out there that may reframe your thinking (assuming you are open to facts you perhaps didn’t know before). A few years ago, I read “The Color of Law,” and it was eye-opening how the institutional racism in housing and housing finance contributed to significant wealth gaps that have persisted over multiple generations. If reading isn’t your thing, I’ve also watched a couple of documentaries this year that go back to the Rodney King beating, and it’s (sadly) amazing how much of what we wrestled with then is still unresolved: LA 92; and Let it Fall: Los Angeles 1982-1992.

Anyway, I said I wasn’t going to preach about this. But all of the discussions in the past 20 weeks have helped me deal with a more focused question: How do I love my non-white neighbors as myself?

And in this case, I’m literally talking about my neighbors. As the northwest Richmond suburbs go, I live in a pretty diverse little cul-de-sac: In the six houses, we have two black families and one interracial couple. But even though I had lived next door to one of my black neighbors for 8+ years and had walked back and forth with him from the school bus stop hundreds of times, I had never engaged in a serious conversation with him about his life as a black man in central Virginia. It wasn’t that I was racist; it just never occurred to me. He has a good job and lives in the same neighborhood as me, so he must have had a pretty good life, right?

Well, yeah, but that’s missing the point. It misses the point that when he was in high school, another guy made a noose out of paper and had people pass it to him in the middle of class. When he confronted the other guy, of course it was my neighbor who got sent to the principal’s office for being disruptive. It misses the point that one day after work, police officers pulled him out of a video arcade and interrogated him in a shopping center parking lot, even though he didn’t look like the suspect and his car wasn’t even close to matching the suspect’s car. It misses the point of the everyday racism that black people deal with and often silently absorb because they feel like they have no other option.

So part of loving my neighbor in this instance is acknowledging that my experiences and my reality aren’t the end-all and be-all when it comes to truth about race. Just because I haven’t seen these incidents doesn’t mean they don’t exist, it doesn’t mean they don’t wound people like my next-door neighbor. It means that when my neighbor invites me to be on a weekly Zoom call for a month with him and some of his friends who want to discuss racism and Christianity, I say “yes” because I want to hear from these men about their experiences – for just a few hours, sitting in front of my laptop, I was the one in the minority, and I was the one who was listening.

I have read about how the news of a single act of racial violence against a black person can basically put other black people on “tilt” for a good bit of time – to oversimplify it, they struggle to function because the news wounds them so much. I can’t really relate to that personally, but I am beginning to understand it. So the next time something like George Floyd’s death happens (and I’m willing to bet there will be a next time), and you have a black co-worker, or a black neighbor, or a black person you regularly see in another setting … stop and ask them, “How are you doing?” That simple act may be the most loving thing you can do. Not “How ya doin’?” as an idle greeting, a question to which you don’t care about the answer – I mean, “Seriously. How are you doing? How are you holding up?”

My recap for this section: I’m loving others as myself by trying to (a) understand their experiences and struggles (instead of dismissing or ignoring them), and (b) genuinely care about them on more than a superficial basis.

Masks

Look, everything under the sun has already been said about masks and whether you should wear one, and much of what I said about staying at home applies to masks.

To keep it simple: Yes, part of the reason I wear a mask when I go out is so that I don’t catch the virus. But more importantly, I do it to make sure that I don’t unknowingly spread the virus to others, and I do it to make others more comfortable with being in the same general space that I’m in.

This is the third blog post I’ve started in the past few weeks on virus-related topics, but it’s the first one I’ve actually finished and posted. In one of my drafts, I wrote at length about what I called “The Great Mask Debate,” and I’ve decided to include an excerpt here.

I’ve been thinking quite a bit recently about wearing masks. I mentioned before that I view wearing a mask as an exercise in loving others. Clearly, not all Christians agree with me. With such a stark disagreement, I wanted to see what other Christians have offered on this topic, so I Googled a phrase that was as neutral as I could think of – “Christians and face masks.” I wanted to see if maybe I was not thinking about this in the right way.

(And before I go any further: I know there are some people who have valid health/medical reasons for not wearing masks. This isn’t directed at those people.)

Here are the links that Google gave me, in order:

An opinion piece by a Presbyterian pastor in North Carolina on why Jesus would wear a mask.
An opinion piece in the Baptist News Global by a mental health professional on why we should wear masks.
A YouTube video by a pastor associated with pursueGod.org who concluded that whether to wear a mask is a gray area, and that in accordance with Romans 14, Christians should continue to show grace to one another, no matter our opinions on gray areas.
Instructions from a hospital with “Christian” in its name on how to wear a mask properly.
An NBC News piece by a religious studies professor that analyzes why so many Christians resist masks and concludes that “wearing masks ought to be a no-brainer” for anyone who is serious about loving their neighbors.
An Amazon link to buy masks with religious/inspirational messages.
An article about a United Methodist pastor in Kansas who thinks Christians should wear masks.
An opinion column by a Presbyterian pastor in Tennessee on why the Bible is clear on thinking of others before ourselves (meaning we should wear masks).
A USA Today piece by the executive director of the Billy Graham Center that isn’t really about physical masks, but more about Christians removing their figurative masks in order to serve others and to share the love of Jesus.
An Etsy page selling Christian-themed face masks.

So those are the 10 links that were on the first page of search results. Putting aside the three that aren’t relevant, we have five out of seven where a Christian clearly says that Christians should wear masks. So it’s not just me. That’s at least comforting for me, even if it isn’t convincing for you.

One last thought on masks: I recognize that some folks think it is a sign of fear, and we’re not supposed to be afraid, right?

For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love, and self-discipline.
2 Timothy 1:7

I’ll just point out that the verse also mentions love (as in, “love others”) and self-discipline (perhaps to do something, even if we don’t like it, because it’s the right thing to do).

And speaking of doing the right thing, I recently got an email with a link to this article by a theology professor in Texas. His overall point is that “godly fear” is good, and he refers to Jesus’ prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane:

“Not my will but thine” is the cry of a heart faithful to God in the presence of fear, not in its absence. It is the cry of courage, which is the virtue that knows the right thing to do, and wills to do it, when disavowal of fear would mean self-deception or recklessness.

Self-deception or recklessness, huh? Like not wearing a ma-… oh, never mind.

To recap: I’m loving others as myself by wearing a mask when I go out so that (a) I don’t spread the virus, and (b) I hopefully put others at ease.

Returning to school

Another subject that has been talked to death, I know. But it’s important, and many people care a lot about doing in-person school (perhaps too much – gets me thinking about “false gods” and whatnot).

But surprise! I’m trying to look it though a lens of loving others. I’m trying to look beyond only what may or may not be best for my kids.

As I’ve tussled with this topic personally, I’ve come up with an “either/or” scenario that I think is correct. I’ve mentioned it to different groups of people, and it has made many of them uncomfortable, but no one has really come out and said, “No, that’s not right.”

If I’m overlooking some nuance here, I am open to someone (lovingly) telling me what I’m overlooking, because I really want to do this “loving others” thing the right way.

Here is the either/or: If I am in favor of in-person school, I must – deep down, even if I don’t want to acknowledge it – embrace one of the following statements.

I am confident that no one – student, teacher, staff, bus driver, cafeteria worker, or family member of any of them – will catch the virus at school and subsequently die. OR…
I acknowledge that some of the people mentioned will catch the virus at school, and a tiny percentage of them may subsequently die, but I hope it’s no one I know, and it’s worth it because of the overall societal benefit to the children of my community.

Is that what it boils down to? If I’m serious about the welfare of others, isn’t that what I’m thinking when I tell my school board I want my kids to be physically at the school? (Another disclaimer: I know there are kids with certain needs (IEPs and such) who really, really can’t do school remotely. I’m not talking about those kids – I am hopeful every school system can work out accommodations for that smaller group that are safe for everyone.)

Again, if I’m off-base, I genuinely want to hear a third option or the gray area that I’m missing. I’m just not seeing it. I have had blind spots about other things (e.g., race), so I readily admit I may have a blind spot here.

Given that I’ve already read this week about an in-person school dealing with case(s) of the virus, I’m not confident about No. 1 above. So that leaves me with No. 2 – and that is a cold, calculating view of things, isn’t it? Thousands of kids getting to do normal school versus a few people possibly dying.

Would I be sacrificing a few people for “the greater good”? The whole thing reminds me of an episode of the 1980s version of “The Twilight Zone” called “Button, Button” where a mysterious stranger gives a couple a device that is nothing more than a button under a bubble. If they lift the bubble and push the button, the stranger will bring them thousands of dollars the next day … but someone they don’t know will die. After driving themselves to the verge of madness about whether to do it, one of them finally pushes the button, and as promised, the stranger shows up with the money, but he also takes the device from them, and the last line is him saying something like, “It’s time for me to give it to someone else … someone you don’t know.” Obviously, one person in this couple is going to die pretty soon.

Am I making that same kind of decision if I say “kids at the school, no matter what”? Maybe. And I don’t want my kids to start the school year at home. I don’t think remote learning will be as good for them as in-person learning. I have a kid starting high school … by sitting at home. No football games, no clubs, no sitting with friends at lunch – nothing. I don’t like it one bit.

But back to loving others. Am I willing to sacrifice the life of one or more students, teachers, staff, etc. at the altar of the false god of in-person school? At this point, no, I’m not willing to do that. So my kids will do remote school, with all the hassles that entails, and we’ll get through it. I hope other people will view my kids the same way – i.e., they are kids who shouldn’t be sacrificed – but I also live in the real world and know that not everyone looks at it the way I’m presenting it here. And I’ll keep loving those people, too.

One final recap: I’m loving others as myself by accepting that my kids will temporarily be doing school from home.

To be clear: I don’t like restrictions on my movement. I don’t like wearing a mask when I go to the grocery store. It’s not comfortable to face racial issues that I’ve ignored or glossed over in the past. I don’t want my kids to start the school year at home.

BUT … Jesus told me to love others as myself. And I’m doing the best I can.

Seeking quiet amidst the noise

In my previous post, I focused on the identity of Jesus as a real person and the son of God. My jumping-off point was a short booklet called Jesus: A Layman’s Primer.

After addressing Jesus’ identity, the author of the booklet spends the next couple of pages talking about Jesus’ example — i.e., his actions that serve as good examples today for what we should do in our own lives. One passage in particular strikes me as timely:

The life of Jesus was marked by total obedience to God and by the constant practice of spiritual disciplines. Among others there consisted of frequent prayer, scriptural reflections and discussions, fasting and periods of silence and solitude. He isolated himself in the desert for some forty days without food or drink to prepare himself with God’s guidance for his subsequent work of healing and ministry.

There is no doubt that Jesus was an active man. The gospels are full of accounts of his miracles, teachings, etc., and the apostle John concluded his account of Jesus’s life with this indication that no account was comprehensive:

Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.
John 21:25

But as the booklet points out, Jesus knew the important of “frequent prayer … and periods of silence and solitude.” For those who aren’t familiar with it, the reference to 40 days without food and drink is described in Matthew 4:1-11 and Luke 4:1-13. This 40-day period came immediately after John the Baptist baptized Jesus in the Jordan River — in other words, this happened at the very start of Jesus’ earthly ministry. Before he set out to change the world, he spent several weeks in solitude.

And at the apparent end of Jesus’ ministry — the night before he was crucified — what did Jesus do? He went to a secluded place, and he prayed. In fact, he prayed three times. (See Matthew 26:36-46).

In the face of betrayal, torture, and death, Jesus very intentionally took time to pray, to be alone with God. His earthly life was anything but calm at that point — today we might say his life was full of drama, or static, or some other term to describe the hubbub. One of my favorite terms for this is noise.

Satan loves noise. It occupies us. It distracts us. It clouds our thinking and distorts our priorities. C.S. Lewis captured this in Screwtape’s words:

Music and Silence – how I detest them both! How thankful we should be that ever since our Father entered Hell … no square inch of infernal space and no moment of infernal time has been surrendered to either of those abominable forces, but all has been occupied by Noise – Noise, the grand dynamism, the audible expression of all that is exultant, ruthless, and virile – Noise which alone defends us from silly qualms, despairing scruples, and impossible desires. We will make the whole universe a noise in the end.
The Screwtape Letters

Today, it feels like much of the world is indeed trying to “make the whole universe a noise.” We can subject ourselves to constant streams of noise through an ever-increasing number of channels: TV news, websites, podcasts, social media, etc. Many “news” channels devote substantial chunks of time to shows that are little more than people shouting at each other (or at us). We leave ourselves no room for silence.

So now that so many of us are cooped up in our apartments or houses, how are we spending our days? Among other things, we’re spending so much time watching streaming video that we might break the internet. We watch the same news reports on the same news channels for hours on end and refresh the same websites, as if we’ll miss something important if we aren’t up-to-date on a near-constant basis.

With everything going on, it has been easy (at least for me) to forget that Easter — when we mark Jesus’ resurrection — is just a few weeks away. (I’ve written about Easter before.) The weeks leading up to Easter are known as Lent. The Christian denominations I’ve belonged to in my life generally don’t put a huge emphasis on Lent, but other denominations (especially Catholics) do emphasize it. I found this page on a Catholic website to be an especially good description of how Lent is meant to be a quiet time — an escape from the noise. It also refers to yet another example of Jesus going off by himself to pray, this time in Matthew 14:23.

To wrap this up: Jesus’ example for us includes being quiet. It includes tuning out the noise in favor of spending time in prayer with God, our Father and Creator. This isn’t easy, especially if you’re not used to doing it. As the Lent post above says,

Being human is to avoid going deeper. We naturally want to remain on the surface because going inward requires effort and we would much rather seek out distractions to avoid the hard stuff of life.
Lent: Silent prayer in a noisy digital world (by Sr. Nancy Usselmann, FSP)

If you feel like you’re starting from zero, start with five minutes each day — just five minutes to find a quiet room or place outside, with no devices clamoring for your attention, and to spend time with God. Don’t worry about whether you’re “doing it right” — trying to pray is praying, folks. It’s OK if it’s not easy. Don’t get discouraged. Satan hates it when we pray and tries to tell us we can’t do it, or we’re not worthy of God’s attention, or we don’t have time, or it won’t make any difference. He prefers the noise, not the quiet.

In this time of uncertainty around the world — in a time of so much noise — let’s try to follow Jesus’ example and just be quiet.

Keep Me From The Gallows Pole

Where we're all people in process…

Author: bransva

Looking back, a year in

Loving and Hating in Difficult Days

Whose plan is it?

How it started; how it’s going

Getting dressed and getting ready

The (very) unpopular kids

“Politics is a good thing” (or at least it can be)

What is truth?

Loving others in strange days

Seeking quiet amidst the noise

Where we're all people in process…

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