Friday, 20 May 2011

An Update


Nearly a month since my last post! I know many people will have been reading the church updates here. But allow me to tell you where we’re at now here on the blog.

The Operation

The operation was a success, but because the tumour was inside the brain it wasn’t possible to remove it all. The surgeon was able to take most of it out, and it was then sent for tests.

The good news was that I came out of the operation without any weakness down my left hand side, or any other mental or physical concerns.

The Results

Brain tumours are graded from 1-4. 1 and 2 are regarded as less aggressive, benign tumours. Grades 3 and 4 are more aggressive, malignant tumours. The early indications we were given suggested that we might be looking at a less aggressive tumour, however the tests revealed it was a grade 3. The tumour had almost certainly been growing for many years, and had transitioned from a grade 2 into a grade 3 recently. This is what would have led to the recent severe headaches and seizure.

Obviously this was not the news we wanted to hear, but a further meeting with the oncologist revealed some good signs. The tumour is one that is expected to respond well to chemotherapy- and if and when I need it -radiotherapy too. It’s also good that the tumour was a grade 2 as some of it may still be grade 2 and not grade 3. Finally, this type of tumour doesn't transition to a grade 4.  

For those still reading and keen to do more Googling it’s a Grade 3 Oligodendroglioma!

The Beatson

Scan

Myself and Debs saw the pre and post op MRI scans for the first time on Tuesday. The tumour in the pre-op scan was clear and sizable. The post-op scan is always a little less clear because you have brain, some tumour and swelling. What is clear is that there is now a big hole in my head (cue the airhead jokes) but the good news is that the oncologists are happy with what they see in the scan. I think the surgeon basically managed to get all of the tumour he could without causing me damage. We were both really thankful that there were no unwanted surprises on the post-op scan.

Chemotherapy

We had gone to the Beaston on Tuesday expecting me to receive my first dose of chemotherapy, but the oncologist was keen for us to take the time to digest the information and plan before starting the chemo. So we got the relevant information and I’ll go back to the Beatson this Tuesday to collect my drugs and start the chemo on Wednesday through to Sunday.

There are a number of positives with regard to the treatment. Firstly, I’ll be able to get my bloods done on the Monday before treatment in Airdrie to save me time when I go to the Beatson on Tuesdays. Secondly, all being well with my bloods, I’ll be able to take the drugs home and take them myself for the five days. Thirdly, the medical staff are fairly confident that my age and condition will stand me in good stead with regard to some of the possible side-effects. I’ve been assured that they are usually less severe than people anticipate. Fourthly, the staff are happy to tailor the chemotherapy around my individual circumstances where necessary ie holidays\important church events etc.

The chemo will be given over five days every four weeks. That works out at 13 sessions over the year.

There are no guarantees as to the impact the chemotherapy will have on the tumour. It’s not impossible that it will shrink, I think it’s more likely that the aim is to prevent further growth for as long as is possible (the chemo should have an impact on the tumour well beyond the year of treatment itself.) Whilst there are no guarantees – and this is clearly a point for prayer- the medical staff are upbeat. This type of tumour is expected to respond well to treatment.

I’ll be subject to MRI scans every three months to monitor the tumour. At some point in the future I’ll almost certainly have to have radiotherapy, but this can cause some damage to the brain hence the decision to start with chemotherapy.


Tiredness

Over the past ten days or so I’ve been very drained. After the operation I had good days and bad days, but even in the bad days I’d have one or two spells where I felt ok. Recently I’ve had whole days feeling exhausted. That’s been quite demoralising for me and concerning for Deborah. We were really pleased that the oncologist at the Beatson told us this was normal and to be expected. I was on a high dose of steroids to reduce swelling in the brain, having come off those steroids- the artificial energy they provide has left me and the full after effect of the operation has hit home. I’m hoping and praying for a wee bit more energy daily.

Longer Term

I know my life expectancy has been altered fairly significantly in the past month, but we’re still praying for healing. I have a lot of privileges and responsibilities that mean an awful lot to me, so I’m praying that I am given time here to invest in them. Family and church don’t feel like short term projects! I would love to go for a scan and be told there was no tumour, and I believe that to be possible, but to be honest if I have to live with that constant question mark over my life that’s ok. Really we all live with the question mark or we live in denial anyway. One of the most important things a pastor can do is to die well, and I’m praying that if that happens sooner than I had anticipated, I’ll be given the grace to model that well to the church. However I do believe all things are possible for God and I don’t feel –as subjective as my feelings are- that this is imminent. The words of Psalm 91, for example, have been such a living source of strength and encouragement to us in these days.

Medically we are being told that this is something that we will have to live with and manage. But there are some really good signs, and I’m being prepared by the NHS staff for years of life. Whilst there are no guarantees there seems an expectation that I will be able to move towards a new-normality.

It’s hard to speak about every day being a gift without it sounding terribly clichéd and twee but that’s the reality that we’re experiencing in a new way at the moment. Every day is a gift, every day we receive the grace we need for any challenges we face, we continue to receive all the support we could ever have hoped for from friends, family and the church family.

Another Psalm that’s been very special to us in these days is Psalm 40:

  He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
    out of the mud and mire;
  he set my feet on a rock
    and gave me a firm place to stand.

  He put a new song in my mouth,
    a hymn of praise to our God.
  Many will see and fear
    and put their trust in the LORD.

That’s often the pattern in the Psalms, a new experience of God’s grace and mercy, a new deliverance from danger or death, leads to a new song. I’ve never been a singer, but I have a new song to speak, a new sermon to preach!

My real desire is to get back behind that lectern in Airdrie Baptist to sing that song. But I also hope to be able to use this blog in coming days to reflect upon some of the truths I’ve been reflecting on, enjoying and experiencing in a new way through this time.

God-willing I’ll start that tomorrow!..

Monday, 25 April 2011

Psalm 121



My Help Comes from the LORD

A Song of Ascents.

121:1 I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, he who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord is your keeper;
the Lord is your shade on your right hand.
The sun shall not strike you by day,
nor the moon by night.
The Lord will keep you from all evil;
he will keep your life.
The Lord will keep
your going out and your coming in
from this time forth and forevermore.

Sunday, 24 April 2011

The View from the Valley

No one wants to be diagnosed with a brain tumour. A craniotomy still sounds to me like a medieval form of torture, or at best an early Victorian form of surgery when lusty butchers hacked away with lots of gusto and little precision. This is not something I would have chosen to have faced, but I feel as well prepared as possible, and I want to share why.

I’m quite familiar with hospitals.

Normally I pop in, have a chat, read a passage from the bible, pray- then it’s back out to the car and home. It’s been an altogether different experience of late. Here I am in the valley. And I’m pleased to report, there is much to be thankful for, even here.

I watched Question Time recently and one panellist lamented ‘where is Florence Nightingale?’ speaking of the nurses she had encountered in the NHS and complaining that it was to them a profession rather than a vocation. Well our Florence Nightingale’s are all in the Monklands and Southern and General Hospitals. They are professionals- and I’m pleased to know that before I pop the pills they provide, but they lack nothing in care and compassion. I am therefore very reluctant to offer any criticism of them. One thing however I have had to correct is when they say to me –knowing I’m a minister- ‘its good you have your faith.’ Maybe it’s a phrase you’ve used before, I’ve heard it repeatedly in the last few days. But the reality is my faith is no help to me. It’s the Object of my faith who matters.

When I hear the phrase ‘its good you have your faith’ I respond ‘I have a great God’. My faith is powerless to help, to heal to comfort or console, but the One I have faith in is my Rock my Redeemer my Refuge and my Rest.

Commending me for my faith as if it’s something I’ve worked hard to earn is to totally miss the point. I have great hope, because I have a great God.

There is a peculiar peace and even joy in suffering as a Christian. Spurgeon said   'I have learned to kiss the wave that strikes me against the rock that is Christ.' These past few days have driven us deeper to God. We have known the presence of the living Lord and the power of prayer. Every day God has gifted us the grace we’ve needed and we trust in that grace for the day tomorrow!

I’m pleased to report that the passages I’ve read to others in difficult days are proving true sources of strength and peace in the valley. I’ve been dwelling in some very familiar places; Psalm 23, John 14, Romans 8, Psalm 103. What power there is in these words.


God has prepared us for this so well in many ways, recently I’ve been reading Bonar’s biography of McCheyne (buy this if you can!) a minister of the gospel who suffered much, but whose sufferings bore much fruit.

McCheyne also knew he was a sinner. When suffering came there was no anger, no ‘why me’, no questioning of God’s sovereignty or goodness. I have to say a lot of man-centred rubbish which passes for Christian literature today would have left me totally unprepared for the valley.

I am a sinner. A few non-Christian friends have been surprised that a minister- (surely a good guy) and a nice minister, and a young minister would face something like this. The reality is Jesus does not promise his followers a life of comfort and ease, infact he promises the opposite. But he does promise his presence and peace to those who turn to and trust in him. He is faithful to that promise and to his people.

Neither have I any cause for complaint. I have not just broken his commandments, I’ve broken the one Jesus called the most important.

Actually I’ve broken it every day.
Truth be told, I’m not convinced I’ve perfectly fulfilled it for five minutes of my 31 years of life.

And yet for 31 years he’s let me breathe his air.

I don’t know how many times my heart has beaten, or my lungs have filled over these years but I’ve not earned a single breath or beat. I never earned my way into existence in 1980, and haven’t made up for that since. It’s all gift, all grace. We all like to think we’re good people. That the scales of our lives tip the right way, for that reason people put ministers like me on a pedestal. The truth is we’re all sinners, we’ve all treated the God who gifts us life as if he didn’t matter, we all need forgiveness. And its only found in Jesus.

Only in Jesus has a truly good man got what he didn’t deserve- he got it on the cross, to take the punishment of every believer.

I believe God is going to heal me, but I don’t fear death, not because I’m good, because I’m forgiven. I know God’s smile in the valley, he is for me, he is with me, he goes before me.

If you were to be brought into the valley, would you know this hope and peace? If not, stop praying for me and start praying for yourself. This wee website explains the gospel, but best thing to do is to find a strong Christian and a bible to talk\pray you through this.

As I was saying I have a lot to live for. And a lot to be thankful for.

As well as all the stuff we take for granted- life, food, colour, music, laughter, security etc

I have a loving, faithful, beautiful, loyal, godly wife
A beautiful wee girl who can make me weep just by calling me daddy
A great mum and wee brother who have loved me so well throughout my life
A church family who have been overwhelmingly kind, thoughtful, patient, prayerful, and loving.

Death for me as a Christian is gain.

But I’m not ashamed to say I’m praying for many more years here with these blessings and responsibilities. I want to be about to vet Katie’s boyfriends, and when if I reluctantly concede to one, to walk her down the aisle!

Matt Chandler sums it up better than I could. He’s a young minister like me, with a hot young wife and cute young daughter like me, suffered a sudden seizure like me, was diagnosed with a tumour in the right frontal lobe like me, requiring a craniotomy like me, and was overwhelmed by God’s love in the valley, like me.

Here he is speaking (he’s well worth a Google by the way!)






One more thing people have said to me- ‘it’s a shame you’ve taken so unwell right at your busy time!’

Actually Easter is a good time to face this, because the Easter message is the one that offers joy, not by building on the sand, or by burying your head in it, the Easter message offers joy and perfect peace even in the darkest of valleys.

Thank you for your love and prayers. We have shed many tears over these past few days, but none birthed of despair, most birthed simply in real, deep gratitude. 

Ross

Saturday, 16 April 2011

An acceptable preacher?

.“As a preacher he is earnest and persuasive rather than argumentative. His command of Scripture, imagery, and illustration is intensive; but some of his figures he pursued rather too far. His voice has considerable power; but it is deficient in flexibility. Upon the whole he promises to be an acceptable preacher…”

 This was how the Dundee Advertisor assessed Robert Murray McCheyne’s second sermon in St Peter’s Dundee in 1836, he was 23 years old. Mercifully I have not been subject to the Airdrie Advertisor publically appraising my sermons. That said, I have recently taken to listening to my own preaching, trying to discern strengths and weaknesses, noticing idiosyncrasies that I’ve been blind to for years, and hoping for progress week by week.

Recently as part of my probationary studies I handed out evaluation forms to the congregation. Dangerous as this is (it may give the impression the sermon is a performance to be judged like a reality TV show) it proved worthwhile exercise for preacher and congregation alike. We both need to know what constitutes good preaching.

I was surprised at how few resources there seem to be online for such sermon assessments.

Acts 29 have an online resource here
Biblical Preaching have some feedback questions here
The form I put together is available here

What would you include\exclude on a sermon evaluation form?
Do you know of any other good examples?

Friday, 25 March 2011

Mark Driscoll on hell, sermon preview

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Driscoll on hell as the wrath of God in effect; spoken with clarity, conviction and compassion.

Wednesday, 23 March 2011