Why youth stay in Church when they grow up

.
Have a look at this great article by Jon Nielson.

A must read for all Christian young people, youthworkers, pastors and parents.
.

Health update

Just a wee update on my progress. 

You can read about the background in two earlier posts here and here.

The Gospel and the oncology waiting room

by Mike Pohlman

I recently sat with my wife in the waiting room at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. We were there to meet with Dr. Lupe Salazar to receive the results of Julia’s latest PET/CT scans. The goal: to determine if the cancer was progressing. This drill is an example of our “new normal” since the diagnosis of stage 4 breast cancer on Mother’s Day weekend in 2009.

Julia and I talk a lot. In fact, there is no one I would rather visit with on a daily basis. But in oncology waiting rooms, we often find ourselves quiet. Cancer clinics have a way of making you measure your words. And as you consider and feel the weight of why you’re there, common conversations often yield to silence.

Of course, the iPhone is never far away, and in the silence of one’s thoughts the urge to tweet can become irresistible. Here’s what I wrote that day: “Seminary course suggestion: spend three afternoons a week for a semester in a cancer clinic with your mouth shut watching and listening.”

I was moved to write those words because of what I was witnessing in the waiting room all around me. Emotions such as concern, despair, anger, and bitterness were obvious as I studied the faces, watched the body language, and listened to some of the spoken words. But there were also clear examples of hope and joy as individuals and families came and went. Amid all this, I was gripped by the fact that one of the front-desk assistants spoke to us freely about the “bad day” she was having and how unfortunate it was given that it was not yet noon. Clearly the fact that the couple dozen people in the waiting room were fighting cancer was lost on her — at least for the moment. The cancer patients in that waiting room could just as well have been waiting for haircuts. Alas, for this employee, it was just another day at work filled with mundane tasks of checking in and scheduling people.

The pastorate is all about God and people. As pastors, we have the wonderful (and terrible) privilege of shepherding people to God in Christ every day. Cancer clinics are an indispensable resource for pastors as we strive for faithfulness in our calling, because they keep us grounded in the greatest realities in the universe... 

Read the whole article here

A beginner’s guide to living, and dying, in joy

  

I thoroughly enjoyed heading east to the Faith Mission Convention last week. The highlight was hearing Alistair Begg preach on Romans 12:1-3.

During his message he mentioned the first two questions found in the Heidelburg Catechism:

What is your only comfort in life and death?                                                                  

And

What do you need to know in order to live and die in the joy of this comfort?

Big questions, it’d be worth stopping here and thinking about how you’d answer, but here’s how the catechism tackles them:

1. Q. What is your only comfort in life and death?                                                                   

 A. That I am not my own,[1] but belong with body and soul, both in life and in death,[2] to my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ.[3] He has fully paid for all my sins with His precious blood, and has set me free from all the power of the devil.[5] He also preserves me in such a way[6] that without the will of my heavenly Father not a hair can fall from my head;[7] indeed, all things must work together for my salvation.[8] Therefore, by His Holy Spirit He also assures me of eternal life[9] and makes me heartily willing and ready from now on to live for Him.[10]

[1] I Cor. 6:19, 20 [2] Rom. 14:7-9. [3] I Cor. 3:23; Tit. 2:14. [4] I Pet. 1:18, 19; I John 1:7; 2:2. [5] John 8:34-36; Heb. 2:14, 15; I John 3:8. [6] John 6:39, 40; 10:27-30; II Thess. 3:3; I Pet. 1:5. [7] Matt. 10:29-31; Luke 21:16-18. [8] Rom. 8:28. [9] Rom. 8:15, 16; II Cor. 1:21, 22; 5:5; Eph. 1:13, 14. [10] Rom. 8:14.

2. Q. What do you need to know in order to live and die in the joy of this comfort?

A. First, how great my sins and misery are;[1]

second, how I am delivered from all my sins and misery;[2]

third, how I am to be thankful to God for such deliverance.[3]

[1] Rom. 3:9, 10; I John 1:10. [2] John 17:3; Acts 4:12; 10:43. [3] Matt. 5:16; Rom. 6:13; Eph. 5:8-10; I Pet. 2:9, 10.

You can read the rest of the Heidelbueg Catechism here. 

Kevin DeYoung has written a really good book on the Heidelberg Catechism called ‘The good news we almost forgot’ preview available here.

Here’s something of what he has to say about the first question:

Heidelberg is asking, "What is your solace in life? What is your only real security?”…

…it poses the most important question we will ever face. What enables you to endure life and face death unafraid? Is it that you read your Bible every day? That you attend church every Sunday? That you give to the poor? That you have a cushy retirement account saved up? That you haven’t committed any of the big sins in life?

 We live in a world where we expect to find comfort in possessions, pride, power and position. But the Catechism teaches us that our only true comfort comes from the fact we don’t even belong to ourselves.

 How countercultural and counterintuitive!

 We endure suffering and disappointment in life and face death and the life to come without the fear of judgement, not because of what we’ve done or what we own or who we are, but because of what we do not possess, namely, our own selves.

.

Happy Anniversary

Happy 5th anniversary Debs!

None But You


Whose tears have soaked my collar dark?
None but yours, no, none but yours.
Whose sorrows leave the deepest mark?
None but yours, no, none but yours.


Who gave herself to me alone?
None but you, no, none but you.
Who is the only one I’ve known?
None but you, no, none but you.


There is no other I desire
None but you, no, none but you.
Till death my deepest friend, my fire:
None but you, no, none but you.


John Piper from Velvet Steel
Available for free download here

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!..

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?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.

3 He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.
4 Behold, he who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

5 The Lord is your keeper;
the Lord is your shade on your right hand.
6 The sun shall not strike you by day,
nor the moon by night.

7 The Lord will keep you from all evil;
he will keep your life.
8 The Lord will keep
your going out and your coming in
from this time forth and forevermore.