Being Chosen

Tension escalated in gym class when the PE teacher picked two captains and asked them to select their teams. Some kids waved their arms, shouting “Pick me! Pick me!” The rest of us stood in a lump of wanna-be-picked, wearing the best expression of pleading we could muster. No one doubted the physically coordinated would be chosen first, but once they were in place behind their captains, those of us who were left felt our palms begin to sweat and our egos begin to bruise.

Being left until the very end, the last-man-standing, was about as humiliating as it could get for a young school kid. We all wanted to be picked before it came to that. Anything but that!

But what if we’re picked for something we don’t want? When Nate and I first learned about his cancer, it took a few days for the harsh truth to sink in. We were stunned, saddened, shocked. We went home and googled for facts about the disease and immediately thereafter began treatment.

Hearing it, researching it, treating it. Boom, boom, boom.

While we were focused on jumping through those hoops of misery, Nate received a letter from a close friend: “We love you and want to encourage you during these difficult days. At the same time, we know the Lord makes no mistakes. Nate, it’s hard for me to say this, but I feel he has selected you to be his testimony to many…”

Selected. Chosen. Picked… to experience terminal pancreatic cancer. None of us wants to be singled out for this team. All of us would rather be the last-man-standing.

Tom, Hans, Nate Oct 25

His letter knocked us flat, but as we talked about Nate’s friend’s words, it dawned on us he was probably right. God doesn’t afflict people with diseases just for the fun of it. There’s only one reason he would allow such anguish to take over a life and eventually take that life, and it would be to bring about something valuable as a result.

The more I think about the letter and the author’s statement that Nate was “selected” to suffer cancer and die as an example to many, the more I’m amazed at God. He chose Nate, and he chose well, because Nate was an excellent example of how to live through affliction. He didn’t fall apart even when he knew death was near. There was no railing against God, no angry “why me?” and no giving way to despair. He was a superb model of how to suffer and die, and he finished well.

The letter continued: “You can be God’s testimony to our and your children, those you work with, and Sunday school kids you have taught. We are praying your testimony will honor the Lord, even when you are weak and in pain.”

That friend’s prayers were answered. Nate never thought of himself as an example while he was busy tackling one day at a time, but already we’ve seen good things happen as a result of his life and death. People have been encouraged to persevere through their own conflicts and struggles, citing him as the oomph behind their willingness to keep trying. Some have begun the difficult process of pondering their own mortality. Others have taken a new look at God and his ways.

Nate’s being chosen to suffer in front of the rest of us as an example was, in a way, a privilege. That’s because the Lord considered him able to handle it. And because Nate accepted it as God’s will and took on the challenge with courage, the cancer’s power to devastate and destroy was negated. I’m sure the enemy’s anger was fierce as Nate’s foundation didn’t wobble under the worst possible stress. And the credit for that goes to God,who had prepared him ahead of time by setting his feet firmly on the Rock.

[The Lord] set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along. Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord.” (Psalm 40:2b-3)

Eat it up!

It was a day of overeating, to be sure. Breakfast at Walker Brothers Pancake House. A lavish lunch in a good friend’s home. Afternoon coffee and treats at Starbucks. A dinner party with women friends. And after it was all over, three Tums tablets.

Cheese platter 2

I spent the day in the Chicago area and was so glad to be back that I scheduled one event after another. It was satisfying to reconnect with many friends. What I hadn’t figured on was the monstrous amount of eating that would go along with being with girlfriends.

I already know how to eat big. The challenge is to choose moderation, which translates to eating much less and is especially difficult during the holidays. All of us make our special dishes hoping everyone at the get-togethers will enjoy them by eating them up. We rationalize larger portions and second helpings because, after all, it’s the holidays. Besides, it’s only right to taste a little bit of everything.Shrimp platter 2

The wall of antacid choices at Walgreens testifies to the existence of a massive industry counting on us experiencing indigestion. And even when we succeed in getting that under control, in January we have to pay the piper anyway. At the end of today, I wished I could have started over. I would have felt much better, and trying to fall asleep on a full stomach wouldn’t have been a midnight chore.Veggie platter 2

“When you sit to dine with a ruler, note well what is before you, and put a knife to your throat if you are given to gluttony. Do not crave his delicacies, for that food is deceptive.” (Proverbs 23:1-3)

A Call Back to Prayer

I can’t remember exactly when I started to crave conversations with God, but it was somewhere in the late ‘70s. One Sunday morning our pastor challenged us to choose one hour during the week to spend in prayer. His sermon detailed prayer’s incredible advantages, and when he threw out his challenge, I decided to take it up.

But one whole hour? It sounded like something only a monk could do. I knew with three little children at home, I’d have to get a babysitter if I was going to do it. I picked a day, dropped the kids at the sitter’s and went home to pray. Because I was tired, I decided to write my prayers longhand, a surefire way to stay awake.praying man 2

Once I got started, there were so many people and topics to cover, I didn’t even finish before the hour was over. I’d failed at regular praying in the past yet knew it was the right thing to do, so tried to pray another hour the next week, too, and every week after that. Sudden obstacles often jumped in the way, and sometimes I’d have to stay up very late, but week to week, the prayer got done.

I began looking forward to our meeting times and had full confidence God would always be waiting for me. And amazingly, praying brought changes. I wanted more of that so thought I’d try to bump my weekly prayer hour to a daily 30 minutes, and it worked well. Often we’d talk for over an hour. God seemed to bring that time out of nowhere.

The two of us sailed along with our daily conversations for 11 years. Then Nate got sick, and everything about our lives changed overnight. The schedules filled with doctor appointments, and our empty nest filled with family. My passion to pray was suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to spend time with Nate and the rest of the family gathered from far and wide. I felt guilty ignoring my appointments with God but had to completely let go of organized prayer. That left us with an intense need for God’s steady counsel but a lack of time to seek it out. It was a dilemma I couldn’t fix, and I felt terrible about it.

One day, a couple of weeks into our 42 day tornado of disease, my mind flooded with God’s solution to the problem. “I’ve appointed others to stand in the gap for you and yours,” he assured me. “Down the road, we’ll pick up where we left off.”

Then he proved it to me. Day after day we opened stacks of mail from precious friends and even strangers. Nearly every card included the words, “We are praying for you.” Some detailed exact requests they were taking to God on our behalf, and others cited specific Scripture passages they were claiming. An astonishing number said, “We’re bringing you to God every single day.” I will never get over such devotion and love.

And here we are, five weeks after Nate’s death. Monday morning it was as if I heard the Lord say, “How about getting together today?”

We’ve been meeting ever since. When I stopped praying those 30-plus minutes each day, unwelcome circumstances had rushed in to fill the time. But this week, the time came back to me. After relocating my prayer clipboard with its lists, notebook paper and pen, I could sit down and heave a deep sigh of contentment, thankful to once again partner with God in this unique way, because I need our conversations now more than ever.

“If we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it. In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness, for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” (Romans 8:25-26)