For My Bride (Deb, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

All truth ultimately comes from God; it just comes through some odd routes. I turned on the radio a few minutes ago, and listened to this song. The poignancy and timing struck me, and I couldn't resist the impulse to blog about it.

This Sunday marks the first of many firsts through the course of the next 10 months: it's the first Mother's Day without Ian. There's nothing I can do to make it better; it, like all the other firsts, will have to be endured. Yet, listening to this song, it felt like God was saying: Yes, I know that you miss your son. I know it hurts; I felt the same hurt while My Son was on the cross, and I turned my back to him. I feel your pain as well. But, in truth, it won't be long until you get to see and hold Ian again. Please remember that, in light of eternity, this suffering is lasting but a moment. I made it possible for you to see your son again, and you will hold him once more.

Deb, I love you. Before we know it, we will hear Ian's laugh again.


Mother and Child Reunion
by Paul Simon

No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away

Oh, little darling of mine
I can't for the life of me
Remember a sadder day
I know they say let it be
But it just don't work out that way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again

No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away

Oh, little darling of mine
I just can't believe its so,
And though it seems strange to say
I never been laid so low
In such a mysterious way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again

But I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
When the mother and child reunion
Is only a moment away

Tonight, you get a two-for. (Graces and Mercies, Ian, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

I had been hoping that this time would never come, but it's here.

We're now looking at a series of "lasts." Most parents get a set of joyous, but probably mildly sad lasts before the kids move out and leave the nest. Unfortunately, there's nothing triumphant or joyful about our lasts. A couple of nights ago was, more than likely, the last time Ian will sleep in his room, in his own bed. We've seen him walk unaided for the last time, and pretty soon he will go to school for the last time. The tumor symptoms have increased with a vengeance, like an opponent who sees the endgame, and is determined to win.

We're at the point where, while not known for sure, God's decision seems to be clear. We're walking our little boy home, kind of like how we walk him everywhere these days. We're keeping close, aiding with each step, surrounding him with encouragement and praise. This is our calling, and I hate it. I have raged, dreaded and feared this time, but we have no choice but to be faithful with what we're given.

And yet, I couldn't help but to remember Jesus' words in Matthew 27: Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me. I'm re-learning lessons of servanthood, and I'm finding it some joy in helping Ian with the simplest of tasks, with the perspective that I'm doing it for Jesus as well. There is a sense of duty as a parent, there is a sense of love out of caring for my son, but I also have a joy out of caring for someone whom God loves more than life itself, enough to die on a cross. As painful as it is, there is part of me that considers what I do for Ian as a privilege.

* * *

I've told some of you that I'm reading the book Heaven by Randy Alcorn. When Deb & I went to Maui for a week, we studied about Hawaii for at least a month. You would think that before now I would have bothered to do a study on the place where I will be spending eternity. I'll confess that my primary motive was to be able to truthfully answer any questions that Ian might have, as well as make it easier for me to say "farewell" to him.

The passage I read tonight gave me food for thought:

God has never given up on his original creation. Yet somehow we've managed to overlook an entire biblical vocabulary that makes this point clear. Reconcile. Redeem. Restore. Recover. Return. Renew. Regenerate. Resurrect. Each of these biblical words begins with the re- prefix, suggesting that a return to an origination that was ruined or lost. (Many are translations of the Greek words with an ana- prefix, which has the same meaning as the English re-). For example, redemption means to buy back what was formerly owned. Similarly, reconciliation means the restoration or reestablishment of a prior friendship or unity. Renewal means to make new again, restoring to an original state. Resurrection means becoming physically alive again, after death.

These words emphasize that God always sees us in light of what he intended us to be, and he always seeks to restore us to that design. Likewise, he sees the earth in terms of what he intended it to be, and he seeks to restore it to its original design.

Religion professor Albert Wolters, in Creation Regained, writes "[God] hangs on to his falled original creation and salvages it. He refuses to abandon the work of his hands--in fact, he sacrifices his own Son to save his original project. Humankind, which has botched its original mandate and the whole creation along with it, is given another chance in Christ; we are reinstated as God's managers on earth. The original good creation is to be restored."

I've been very focused lately on what will be different in the next age, and how Ian will be different, that I've forgotten to think about what will be the same. I fully expect that he'll have his same laugh that he did before the tumor set in (that I have trouble remembering right now.) His eyes in his glorified body will be the same shape, and the same color. He'll have his same sense of humor. He will enjoy running like he did, and probably even more. We'll have the same inside jokes. There's a part of me the expects when we see each other for the first time, we'll embrace and use our current greeting ("Courage and Kindness, son." "Courage and Kindness, Dad.")

Somehow, that helps. It's strange just how much comfort I've been getting by getting clues about what will be familiar in Heaven...almost as much as by learning about what will be different.

Hey, You--I Gotta Tell You Something... (Temporal Echoes of the Eternal, Ian)

As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and lighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, "This is Son, whom I love, with him I am well pleased."
Matthew 3:16-17

We went to Mall of America yesterday, after the doctor's appointment. We've been there dozens of time as a family. This time, we took turns pushing Ian in a wheelchair. We looked at the stores, had a snack and we laughed. The whole time, I wanted to stop each person and let him/her know about my son. Not about his condition, but about him. About what a wonderful little boy he is.

Do you know my son, Ian? You should get to know him. He's a fantastic kid. He's only in first grade, but he can add a column of two-digit numbers in his head. He can read at least a couple of grades better than I did at his age. He's had a rotten year, but he's still got a great attitude. He's brave, and is one of the most kind-hearted people I know. He can see when someone is suffering, but he isn't afraid to say or do something about it. I love him more than anyone else in this world, except for maybe my wife. If you got to know him, I think you would feel the same way. You need to look past the appearance. His body is weak and frail right now, but someday he's going to be glorious.

Is that how you feel as well about Jesus, Heavenly Father? When He was born, as He grew into a man, was it only your wisdom that kept the angels from trumpeting His glory every day, celebrating His majesty each minute?

Staying in the Now (Tom, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

It's been awhile since I've posted about what's going on inside of me. I've promised myself to be open here, as a therapy. I haven't been really moved to post more than pictures and video, until now.

Deb and I took an evening to sequester ourselves. It felt good to be cloistered, even for a few hours. We took along a DVD set of Chip Ingram sermons titled "God As He Longs You to See Him." There wasn't a guide on the box listing which disc had which sermon, so we had to start hunting through them to find the one we were interested in watching. We longed to hear about God's faithfulness, but for some reason, we stopped on God's wisdom.

Chip quoted A. W. Tozer, and the line resonated with both of us. I was about to fumble through it from memory, but I remembered that Google is my friend. The quote is:

Wisdom, among other things, is the the ability to devise perfect ends and to achieve those ends by the most perfect means....All God's acts are done in perfect wisdom, first for His own glory, and then for the highest good of the greatest number for the longest time. And all His acts are as pure as they are wise, and as good as they are wise and pure. Not only could His acts not be better done: a better way to do them could not be imagined.

This is one that I'm still working through in my head. If this is true, then Ian's illness was for God's glory. I can accept that, based on what I've seen. I've watched the church display Christ's love over and over through this season. But, this also means that Ian's tumor was allowed because it has resulted in the highest good of the greatest number of people for the longest time. That I can accept, for the moment, because I've heard about and talked with people who have been drawn closer to God through our actions, which has been our desire all along.

I think where I'm having trouble is in a future that doesn't exist yet. Actually, that's where I've been having trouble for months, since about mid-May. The enemy keeps showing me glimpses and scenes in my mind of a future that doesn't exist. Right now, I can ask myself, "Is Ian's condition worth God's glory? Do you believe that God is still wise?", and I can honestly answer "Yes." But from what I know about the progression of this disease based on previous cases, I don't know how long I will be able to answer in the affirmative. I'm afraid that, at some point, I will be questioned by the enemy "Is what your son is experiencing worth God's glory? Can you still say that God is wise?" and at best, I won't have an answer.

If I'm not prepared to give a definite "yes," then I need to be able to state that I know what is best for everyone who has ever lived, based on what actually happened and what possibly could have happened. Obviously, there is no way for me to know that. So, what am I left with? I could answer "no," and commit an act of ultimate pride and hubris, by saying that I am wiser than God. Or, I can firmly answer "yes," and suppress the part of me that is screaming inside.

At this point, the best I can do is look at where we are. Not where we will be, but where we are at this moment, and say, "I believe so." Then, I look at where we are in the moment to follow, and give the same answer. I find that I do trust that God will give me the grace to answer that question each moment, for that moment. But He doesn't have to give me the grace to answer that question about the future, because I'm not there yet. And that is Ok.

Ian's Baptism (Ian, Pictures, Video, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

No two parents were ever prouder than Deb and I were on Sunday. Our little boy stood up in front of at least two hundred friends and family and declared in a strong, excited voice "I just love Jesus!" He took his first confident steps on the path that follows Christ, and did it with joy.

The service felt like it was thrown together, but looking back, it was orchestrated by God. On Saturday, Deb and I asked our pastor if it would be possible to have a baptismal service for Ian the next day, instead of waiting a week. By Saturday night, the arrangements were made.

First, a song of praise was lifted up; we sang Mighty to Save by Hillsong. Later, a couple of friends said they could feel the Holy Spirit resting on the gathering.

Ian was a little nervous, but not scared. When it came time to speak, he answered confidently and clearly. When he emerged from the water, he had one of the biggest smiles I've ever seen on his face. Afterward, he couldn't stop saying "I'm so glad I did that!"









A few friends had asked if they could bring some desserts for a small reception afterward. We expected a small, intimate gathering; what we got was a party!






During said party, I took a moment to pray a blessing over Ian, and to give him his values. In the last year, I led a group of men through a program called Heart of a Warrior. One part of HOAW is to determine what your primary values are. After identifying your primary values, the study leads you through identifying the values for your children. While giving him his blessing, I told Ian what his values are: Courage and Kindness. Anyone who knows Ian at all will see that those are definitely his. From now on, Deb and I will seek out opportunities to affirm courage and kindness in his life.





We want to say Thank You! to all who helped make this day unforgettable. The love we feel for our little boy was clearly echoed by everyone who brought food and party supplies, made calls, helped out and drove out of their way to attend. Thank you for showing your love for our son.

108300 Seconds and counting (Temporal Echoes of the Eternal, Events, Make-a-Wish Trip)

Yes, we're a little excited about the upcoming trip. We're all looking forward to a special time away, when we can relax and forget about MRIs, treatments and obligations. We've all got attractions that we especially want to see, but all three of the adults are looking forward to watching Ian enjoy everything.

We've verified that we'll have Internet access at our villa, so (hopefully) starting Thursday evening we'll be making nightly daily posts here at on the Caring Bridge site. Because of limitations on Caring Bridge, this site will have more pictures, and video. I've also created a Flickr account, so I'll be putting pictures there as well; as soon as there are photos there, I'll post a link to the side.

In the meantime, please pray that the weather forecast clears up a bit for Sunday...

Report from Advance III (Tom, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

I got back from the Advance III last night, and my mind is still working through this past weekend, trying to pick out what I need to take away from it. To be blunt, it just wasn't as life-changing as the Advance II was in 2006. Then again, if events like that happened often, then they wouldn't be as life-changing.

It's not that it wasn't a good weekend...it just didn't match up to what I have been expecting for two years. It's not anyone's fault, per se. It's just...well, read on.

Things were OK on Friday night, in spite of a storm that rolled through. We listened to the testimony of Johnny Turnipseed, and had fun playing ping-pong.

On Saturday morning, they showed a movie titled "Most." It's a Czech movie with subtitles; you can see the trailer here:



It's about a man with a little boy...about Ian's age...who has to make a concious decision to either save his son, or a train filled with passengers. It's well-made, and I recommend that you see it if you get the chance. However, I couldn't watch it. Ultimately, I walked out once it became evident what was going to happen. The relationship between the father and son was too much like what I have with Ian. Seeing this man take such joy in spending time with his beloved son, then knowing that he would have to let to boy go, hit too close to home for me.

I stormed out of the chapel. There were a few men lingering around who were very perceptive, and picked up on the fact that something was wrong (probably punching the door on my way out was a clue.) The men with whom I talked understood completely, and were gracious about giving me the "permission" I needed to let my emotions out. As one of them put it, "You got to be strong when you get home to your family. You don't got to be strong here."

Unfortunately, it felt like I went around all day and evening on Saturday with an emotional toxic waste dump oozing out of my chest, and I couldn't find any place to put it.

Still, there were some very positive things that happened. It was still nice to get away to a beautiful area of Minnesota. I got to spend some quality time with a couple of men from my Heart of a Warrior group. Most of all, I got the opportunity to spend some time with a young man who reminds me very much of myself, and whom I am respecting more every time I see him. I was thrilled when I found out that he's planning on going through the Heart of a Warrior curriculum, and I look forward to hearing about that journey.

I was pretty lazy about taking pictures, and for some reason getting them posted is taking more effort than usual. Here's the ones that I got up tonight:

This is Frank Bower, former mafia enforcer, now a pastor. He's also a UFC fighter (14 wins, 2 losses). Looking at that picture, I feel absolutely ridiculous holding my puny fist up to this guy.

This is Dr. Greg Bourgond, the founder of Heart of a Warrior Minstries. He's one man whom I seize any chance I get to be around. His very presence is an encouragement.

Here are a couple of shots of the camp. Like I said, I was lazy;
these just don't do the place justice.

Additionally, I got to know some great men there. PJ, Chad, Damon, Brenden, and others. It was a blessing just to be in the company of men who love Jesus, and have a sincere desire to serve Him in their day-to-day lives.

Gratitude (Graces and Mercies, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

Act I:

(Imagine, if you will, a conversation between myself and God...)

Me: "Lord, please heal my son, as soon as possible."

God: I will provide caring doctors through whom I will work, and trust in Me.

Me: "Lord, please heal my son, as soon as possible."

God: I will provide nurses who are kind, gentle, caring and encouraging.

Me: "Lord, I ask you to heal Ian"

God: I will surround you with family and friends who will demonstrate My love for you in ways that you would never have imagined.

Me: "Lord, I ask that you remove Ian's tumor, quickly"

God: I will provide for you financially, physically, emotionally and spiritually. I will surround you when you call to Me, and comfort you.

Me: "God, please restore my son's health."

God: I will be glorified through this situation, and use you in ways that you could not have imagined.

Me: "Dear Lord, please make my son be healthy, and have a long life."

God: I will light each of your steps through My word and through My spirit.

Me: "Jehovah, please do not take my son."

God: I will astound the medical professionals by keeping him healthy while they use the gifts I have given them, to treat the tumor the best way they know how. Through Ian, they will know how to better treat other sick children.

Me: "I'm not sure that you are listening to me, God..."

(Fade to black)

* * *

Does anyone else see a pattern there? This is pretty much how my prayer life has been over the past eight weeks. I have been so focused on my goal, on my end result, that I tend to lose sight over what God is doing now. I've been so busy applying Luke 18:1-5 (the parable of the persistent widow), that I've ignored Isaiah 66:15, Psalm 119:73-80, and hosts of other promises God has made to me.

If my desire had been granted, and Ian had been healed immediately upon the diagnosis (or never had gotten his DIPG), we would not have had the experience of seeing the church rise up and rally around a little boy. We would not have heard from friends and relatives all over the country. We would not have gotten to meet the Krupskis, a lovely family who moved here from Vermont. Ian would not have gotten to spend weeks enjoying time with his grandmother. There have been hundreds of blessings, some that we see and some that have remained hidden. Deb and I would not have gotten clued into how bad Ian's ankles were getting, and he would have experienced more pain in his legs and feet.

Instead of focusing on what God has not done, I need to trust His will and focus on what He has given us.

We give thanks to you, O God,
we give thanks, for your Name is near;
men tell of your wonderful deeds.

- Psalm 75:1


* * *

Act II:

(Imagine, if you will, a different interaction)

Satan: God is not going to heal your son.

Me (Ignoring Satan): "Thank you, God for providing caring doctors who trust in You, and through whom You are working."

Satan: God is not going to heal your son.

Me: "Lord, thank you for providing nurses who are kind, gentle, caring and encouraging.

Satan: You will be isolated and alone.

Me: "Thank you, Lord, for surrounding us with family and friends who are demonstrating Your love for us in ways that we would never have imagined."

Satan: God is going to work slowly, if at all. This will last years, and will ruin you in every way.

Me: "Thank you, Lord, for providing for us financially, physically, emotionally and spiritually. I know from Your word that you will surround me when I call Your name, and will comfort me."

Satan: God is not going to heal your son.

Me: "God, be glorified through this situation, and use us in ways that we could never have imagined."

Satan: Your son has no future.

Me: "Lord, thank You for leading us this far. Guide us through Your spirit, and give us wisdom to listen to You."

Satan: God is going to take your son.

Me: "Lord, I thank you that Ian has been healthy through his treatments. His blood counts have remained high, his symptoms have been minimal and his attitude has been wonderful. I thank you for your mercy during this time. Above all, I pray that Your will would be done throughout this trial."

(Fade to white)

* * *

I wish that it were that easy, at least for me. The first step is to sit down and start listing the ways He has blessed us. That may be the next post...

As a quick aside, I'm listening to a recording of the doctor's appointment from earlier this week. Ian's oncologist said his exam is "totally rock stable." Pong!

The Missing Song (Graces and Mercies, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

In a previous post, I mentioned three songs that have been inspirational to me during this season. I was able to find two of them at Last.fm, so that you could listen to them for free. The third song, "Blessed Be the Name (From Job)" by Brent Bourgeois, does not seem to be available for listening or purchasing online. I contacted Mr. Bourgeois, and he graciously gave me permission to host an MP3 copy of the entire song, in case anyone wished to hear it. You can hear it by clicking here.

If you like it, and wish to hear more of Mr. Bourgeois' music, please purchase a copy of his album Come Join the Living World. It may take a little searching, but it's definitely worth it.

(And many thanks to Mr. Bourgeois for his kind reply to my email.)

Dry, Dry, Dry (Graces and Mercies, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

I've had one or two people mention that there hasn't been a post in a week, and wondered how I was doing. I attempted a post, but I all but tossed my laptop in the garbage when I started reading it. I've just been feeling...dry. As a hobbit once said, "I feel like too little butter scraped across too much toast." (Or something like that. I can't find my copy of The Fellowship of the Ring at the moment.)

I haven't been writing because there isn't anything to give. Between work, Ian, Deb, home and friends, there just hasn't been anything left. My primary challenge is to abide in Christ right now. It sounds simple: read my Bible and pray. That's my primary objective. And yet, that feels like my biggest challenge. I keep throwing up "ifs": if only Ian would sleep, and let me have my time before I go to work. If only I could take my lunch hour and get away from the building. If only I could get some time in the evening.

Recently, I heard the term "put your own oxygen mask on first." Just like the emergency instructions before an airplane takes off. When there's a drop in cabin pressure, the parents' first impulse is to take care of small children first, then themselves. The flight attendants remind the passengers that in order to care for and protect their children, the parents must care for their own needs first. The kids are not taken care of when mom or dad have passed out.

Similarly, I'm not doing Deb or Ian any favors when I'm not taking care of myself. If anyone out there is praying for me, I feel like my needs are pretty basic:

Exercise: I had a my cholesterol checked a few years ago, as well as last September. Both tests had similar results: LDL cholesterol was low (yay!), HDL cholesterol was low (@#$%). My doctor reminded me that HDL cholesterol is raised by only one method: regular, sweat-breaking exercise. I used to work out before I got ready to leave for work, but Ian's been waking up at 5:30 lately, and I've wanted to get up and be with him.

Scripture: I firmly believe that the Word of God is alive, having the power through the Holy Spirit to heal and refresh. Deb and I have both experienced this recently, when it spoke directly to us individually, addressing our currently situation. In the past year, I've discovered the joy of reading my Bible. Now, I need to find my refreshment in it.

Prayer: Over the Memorial Day weekend, when I had a few days off, I had some incredible prayer times. Granted, at the time, the grief was fresh and new, and that drove me to my knees. I can't remember the last time I felt closest to God. It seems like lately, I have to share my prayer time with 10,000 of my closest friends while commuting.

Correction. Earlier this week, I was driving and decided to play three songs that have best described my situation, at least in my mind. First, it was one that I posted about earlier: I Will Lift My Eyes, by Bebo Norman. The utter desperation and dependency on Jesus still speaks to me. It starts off "Oh God, My God, Your beloved needs You now." Framing the situation that way, that I am God's beloved, whom He will not abandon, speaks directly to my fears.

The second song is an older one. It's "Blessed Be the Name of the Lord (From Job" by Brent Bourgeios. I believe that the phrase "The Lord gave, The Lord has taken away / blessed be the name of The Lord" is perhaps one of the purest expressions of worship that man has ever conceived. Job understood that nothing he was given, not even his children, were his, but that everything ultimately belongs to God. When everything he had was ripped away, his first reaction was to bless the name of God. Job refused to allow his status, his riches, his prosperity, or anything of this earth define who he was, or who God is.

The third song is Sunday by Tree63. The song describes a how God's promises are true and reliable, even (especially?) when all evidence points to defeat. I firmly believe that God loves dramatic endings.

At any rate, if you are praying those are my requests: time for exercise, scripture reading, and prayer. With regard to time in God's word, another Lord of the Rings quote comes to mind. I thought of it this morning when our pastor was delivering a message about the importance of God's word, and in one comparison, he displayed a sword (in reference to Hebrews 4:12). I couldn't help but to lean over to one of my best friends and quote Gandalf from The Two Towers, when he was addressing King Theoden: "Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped a sword-hilt."

The Correct Perspective (Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

Our church makes available a daily devotional titled "Indeed," which God has used throughout this process to speak to both Deb and me. Early on, it explored passages in Isaiah, which reminded us of God's love and the hope He provided. Yesterday's message in "Indeed" was once again timely. I had hoped that I could just provide a link to it and let you read it (no such luck). So, I'll give you my perspective anyway.

Over the last week, the gravity of our situation has started to become overwhelming. Even though Ian has shown improvement, the enemy keeps bringing back some of the doctor's words from the prognosis as an attack. I want to be realistic about Ian's chances, and by human standards those chances aren't good. The other temptation is to focus solely on asking God to heal him. There is nothing wrong with interceding on Ian's behalf; I do that every day in full confidence, as do an enormous number of others (thank you for your prayers, everyone). However, as long as I focus on those two possible outcomes, my perspective remains almost strictly temporal and one-dimensional.

The "Indeed" devotional is currently looking at the first chapter in Job. Anytime I look at Job, one of two thoughts cross my mind:

1.) "I fully believe what this says, but my situation is nearly that bad."
2.) "Dear Lord, please don't let my situation get that bad."

Anyway, looking at the first chapter of Job, any tragic situation gets a new framework. God has protected Job and allowed him to prosper. Job recognizes that all of his blessings are from God, and is appropriately thankful. Satan (literally, "the accuser") uses this relationship to make the charge that Job is worshiping God only because he is blessed and protected. Satan states that if Job was not protected, he would not be faithful. God then allows the test to proceed.

God entrusts His reputation to Job, and when Job is faithful, God is glorified. That frames my situation much differently. God is entrusting His reputation with me, since my words and actions are now getting much greater scrutiny than before we learned of Ian's condition. God has Ian's best interest in mind, and will take care of my son. My charge is to continue to glorify God no matter what happens.

In discussing this with someone dear to me, the question was raised, "Wouldn't it glorify God most to heal Ian?" In my limited mind, it would be hard to disagree with that statement. God, heal Ian now, heal him completely, and do it in a way that nobody else can explain. However, when I start praying and expecting that to happen, I exhibit tremendous hubris by thinking that I can tell the Maker of the universe, the Ruler of Creation, what to do. I have the audacity to recommend to my Lord, here is how you should be honored. I would not think to suggest to my manager at work how he should perform his job. What right do I have informing The Almighty of how His work is to be done?

Instead, I need to let God be God. I usually have a hard enough time being Tom; I'm not looking for that kind of promotion. I ask that His will be to restore Ian, but I ask further that His will be done. And until His final decision is known, I will focus on the task that He has given to me: to lift up the name of Jesus in everything I say and do. That task was given to me before we knew that Ian had a tumor, and it has not changed.

Stewarding Sorrow (Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

One of the joys I've had in the past few weeks is exchanging correspondence with relatives with whom I haven't talked in years, sometimes decades. One particular relationship that Debra and I treasure is with my great-uncle Robert Mann. He claims that we have met at family reunions. I'm sure that he's right, but, more than likely, I was too busy playing with my father's fire extinguisher* to remember.

Uncle Robert sent us a letter with a picture of a bear he saw at Yellowstone Park, in reference to the post about Ian's close call with a bear in our yard. A treasure to us was the following quote. It was from a booklet that a friend of his wrote.

Sorrow is really a stewardship. And sorrow is apt to be selfish if we are not careful. Rightly borne, sorrow in your life may mean strength and courage for someone else. I think there can be no doubt that some trials are permitted to come to us for no other reason than that through them we may be able to give sympathy and help to others.

If we suffer rightly, we make a contribution to the alleviation of human grief, and to the triumph of good over evil, love over hate, and of light over darkness.

That first line resonated with me: Sorrow is a stewardship. God is entrusting me with this time, with this experience. I can waste it feeling sorry for myself or for Ian. I could go off on a two-week bender. I could grow angry and bitter. I could sink into depression, and lash out at anyone who would try to reach me. I could go into denial, pretending that nothing has changed.

All of those might be perfectly acceptable human responses. But, if I allowed myself to venture down any of those paths, I would miss out on what my Lord is trying to accomplish through this. If I truly believe that God is sovereign over every atom, every subatomic particle in the universe, then this was not a random occurrence. That thought is one that at the same time is both impossible to swallow and of great comfort: God allowed my son to develop an inoperable brain tumor for a reason. I may never know that reason, at least not completely, this side of eternity, but there is a reason. On one hand, the thought that the God of the universe, who loved me to the point of death on a cross, allowed my little boy to develop a horrible illness, for which there is no cure, is difficult to swallow. From a purely human viewpoint, nobody would blame me if I shook my fist in defiance at Him because of this. There is no answer to the question of "why?" that will answer my limited, fleshly intellect.

Yet, I constantly pray that I would see my life not from a human viewpoint, but from a perspective of eternity. From that point of view, the idea that this happened for a reason is a great comfort. This was not a random occurrence, but this is carefully orchestrated, and it's very possible that something glorious is going to come of it. Earlier in the decade, when the IT industry was going through its "correction" and I was between jobs, I grew fond of a saying: "God is never late. He just loves dramatic endings." Case in point: during one jobless period, Deb and I determined that if I did not get a job and get my first paycheck by the end of May, we would need to start the process of selling our house. However, God provided me a job, and I got my first paycheck...on May 31st. My Lord provided in His timing, and by relying on Him, we have been able to give Him the glory.

There is a plan for this, and I don't have the luxury of knowing what the end is. I like to think that my son will be healed completely of this tumor. Whether it's done supernaturally, or through the experimental treatment he's on, I care not. But even if Ian is not healed, I am still responsible for what is happening now with my life, and how I approach this season. Even now, God is investing in me. He's pouring out his compassion and kindness through family and friends. He supports me on a daily basis, emotionally, spiritually and materially. Through this time, my Lord is developing and nurturing something that He will use for His glory later. It's not up to me to know what that something is. My responsibility now is to be in the moment, seeking His gentle mercy and perfect will.


*True story. It was fun. Definitely worth the spanking.

Hope Hurts (Graces and Mercies, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

(This post was started on Thursday, June 5, 2008...)

True, genuine hope for the future has been a little hard to come by for me lately. I can see hope for the near term--Ian has been improving, and we should see much more of our boy by Father's Day. But hope for the long term...a year from now, two years from now...I don't have much. I've been trying to figure out why.

The best I can figure out is that if I dare to have hope, then I open myself up to disappointment. And since we're talking about the life of my only son, the disappointment hurts deeply. As much as I want to imagine Ian growing up and becoming a man, it's difficult for me to have the courage let my mind wander there now. It's safer to...not.


(...then finished on Saturday, June 7, 2008)

Two things happened that broke the thought pattern I wrote about above, and brought honest hope:

1.) Later, on Thursday evening, Deb told me that Ian's oncology team was going to meet with another little boy who also had a DIPG. He was treated with the same experimental therapy that Ian is undergoing, only during the stage one trials. He was coming in for a routine MRI, just to verify that his tumor had not returned since his treatment ended three years ago.

2.) The biggest difference came just before I went to sleep on Thursday night. I'm in the process of reading Victory Over the Darkness by Neil T. Anderson. In chapter 8, Neil discusses the battle for my mind, and describes some of the enemy's strategies to affect my thought life.

One aspect he brought up is that the enemy speaks directly to our minds, in subtle and devious ways. Instead of saying "There is no hope," he says "I don't believe there is hope." See the difference? He substitutes his thoughts for ours, making us think that his suggestions are our own thoughts, just by changing the sentence from the third person to the first person.

The enemy's weapons are lies and deceit. By leading my thoughts along the lines of hopelessness and depression, I was living in defeat. Through the teaching of Mr. Anderson, I'm learning the deeper meaning of 2 Corinthians 10:5 (We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.)

That concept, of taking every thought captive, always seemed insurmountable to me. Once I learned that not everything that goes on in my head is my thought, but that the enemy will place suggestions there for his purposes, it became a matter of learning to hold my thoughts up in light of scripture, and from there either rejecting them as a temptation, or acting upon them. The more quickly I reject thoughts that go against God's word, the better off I am. And the only way that I can quickly discern what's going on in my head is by consistently spending time in scripture: reading, studying and meditating on God's word. Only then am I truly equipped to fight the accuser on the true field of battle: my heart and my mind.

Unfolding, pt 2 (Temporal Echoes of the Eternal, Graces and Mercies)

A few more observations on the passage in Genesis 22:

verse 6 - Isaac had to carry the wood to (what could have been) his own sacrifice. There are so many obvious parallels between this passage and the crucifixion of Christ, such as Christ had to carry his own "wood" (the cross). My takeaway from this is that God doesn't ask us anything that He hasn't faced or was willing to do(through His incarnation as Christ). Times recently when I've told God that it isn't fair for my son to have to suffer, I get the response, "I understand." And I know that He does.

verses 7-8 - Isaac obviously knew the sacrifice ritual. It says that Abraham bound him and placed him on the altar, so Isaac knew what was coming. He was surely confused and scared, because he know what happens to things that are put on altars. Similarly, Jesus knew what was coming when He faced the cross. We've been fortunate that Ian hasn't known what's facing him, so his fear has been less, but that's quickly changing the more times he goes to the hospital.

verses 12, 15 - "...from me your son, your only son." I noticed that God didn't include "Isaac, whom you love" in these verses. Abraham obviously still loved Isaac, but he also proved that he loves God more than Isaac. Because of that kind of devotion, God gave Isaac back to Abraham, and fulfilled His promise to Abraham to make him the father of a great nation.

Nothing groundbreaking, like I said. Just my observations.

Not Unknown, Just Unfolding (Temporal Echoes of the Eternal, Graces and Mercies)

One of the easiest of the Hebrew names for God for me to remember is "Jehovah Jireh," which translates into "The Lord Will Provide." One of our closest friends pointed us to the passage in Genesis 22:1-19, where this name is used. I was meditating on this passage on Monday morning, and recorded the following thoughts. Nothing groundbreaking, but then again, this is not the place to come for groundbreaking. But I hope that you can see the parallels to our own situation.

God called Abraham to do this. He doesn't initiate plans without knowing the outcome, the details or the reason. he doesn't always reveal these right away (I would venture that he rarely reveals these), so that we may learn to trust him.

Verse 2 - "...Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love..." God knows Ian by name. Not only does God love Ian infinitely more than Deb or I ever could, He also knows how much we love Ian. God doesn't consider this insignificant, since we are doing our best to model God's love for His son, and God's love for us. If anyone's heart is breaking in this situation, it is our Lord's.

Verse 3 - It must have been killing Abraham as he made those preparations. Satan was pummeling him with doubt and fear. Abraham probably cut a little bit more wood than he needed, or walked a little more slowly, just to see if God would change His mind. Every step of the process--saddling the donkey, getting the servants, getting Isaac, all the way to Moriah. In each stage, he hoped God would stop him and call it off. Thousands of times, Abraham must have thought something like, "See God? I'm trusting you. Lesson learned. Now let me take my son and go home." I do that now, and I'm sure that I will keep doing it, wanting in my humanness for the nightmare to be over, instead of wanting God's designs to be fulfilled.

Access, Ctd. (Graces and Mercies, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

While reflecting more on yesterday's posting about our access to God through Christ, the song "I Will Lift My Eyes" by Bebo Norman got stuck in my head and won't leave. I consider it my personal anthem through this season.

Access (Temporal Echoes of the Eternal, Graces and Mercies)

On Sunday our pastor at church continued his series on the Beatitudes.

Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called sons of God
- Matthew 5:9

The concept of being a peacemaker was modeled by God. Because of man's rebellion, we were literally at war with God. The only way to atone for our sins was to present sacrifices of animals and grain at the temple where God resided. There were precise offerings to be made depending on offenses, as well as the economic status of the offender. God modeled the above verse, by making peace with us though the death and resurrection of Jesus.

I was reflecting on what it must have been like for Hebrews in the Old Testament. When a personal crisis like ours would occur, you would go to the temple and make an offering as prescribed by the Mosaic law. I can't imagine the terror of first being scared about my situation, and then hoping that your sacrifice was enough to make me acceptable to God. I'm sure that I would bring along a little bit more, just in case. You would never know where you stood in the eyes of God.

I got a small glimpse at how blessed I am to not have to worry about whether or not I am acceptable to God. Through the final sacrifice of God's Son, all doubt is taken away. Not only am I at peace with God, I can be confident that He considers me his son (little "s"), because through Christ I am adopted into his family:

He predestined us to be adopted as His sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will
- Ephesians 1:5

I don't have to seek an audience or wait for an appointment. Because of Jesus, I know that I am His child, able to talk privately, intimately, openly and honestly. That last one is getting more and more important. Because of this relationship, I tell God that this situation is rotten, that I don't think it's fair. I can tell him, in my humanness, what I think of this world that's under His authority where children get these kinds of diseases. I don't have to worry that I'm going to get kicked out of his graces because He knows my need to work through this, and will patiently, lovingly accept me back into His presence.

Even more importantly, as His beloved, He hears me. Even before I started crying out to him to take care of this situation and to heal my son, God had started the process to support and care for me and my family. Through friends and family (and that line is becoming more and more blurry), we are being lifted up hour by hour. The messages of hope and encouragement keep pouring in through the CaringBridge site, through emails, calls and visits. He hears me and knows exactly what I need, what Deb needs and what Ian needs, and provides them in ways that surprise me.

Let the beloved of the Lord rest secure in Him,
for he shields him all day long,
and the one the Lord loves rests between His shoulders.
- Deuteronomy 32:12

The image I have in that is of a child getting a piggyback ride, or riding in one of those backpacks, and feeling safe enough to fall asleep.

Today, Tomorrow (Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

As one might expect, my prayer life has been improving lately. The past couple of days, I've been praying through passages in Isaiah, verse by verse. God is talking to Israel while they are captive, encouraging them to hope when all seems lost.

But now listen, O Jacob, my servant,
Israel, whom I have chosen.

This is what the Lord says --

he who made you,

who formed you in the womb
and who will help you:

Do not be afraid, O Jacob, my servant,

Jeshurun, whom I have chosen.

- Isaiah 44:1-2


I don't know why, but God has chosen us to go through this season. He is a God of reason, a God of purpose and intricacy. He's like the best jazz musician you can imagine (one teacher mentioned Thelonious Monk), taking what seems like chaos, and weaving it into a harmonious pattern that makes sense only in hindsight.

I also found myself this morning asking God to provide grace and mercy for today, and hope for tomorrow. The Lord's mercies are new every morning. If I stop and look at matters through an eternal perspective, even on what could be one of the worst days of our lives, the Lord's mercies and grace were present. We live in a country where an MRI was a short drive away. We have health insurance. We have doctors who caught this when they did, and were able to arrange for the test and appoints on very quick order. One of my best friends, who lives in North Carolina, happened to be in Minneapolis on a business trip. The outpouring of love and support from friends was immediate. I'm sure that there are more, some we won't know until later.

Much of the pain and terror I've been feeling has been from mourning the future, my future. God is leading me to let go of my vision of the future, and put my hope in His future for our family. In my humanness, I want to know God's plan for my family, but that's not trusting. As long as I cling to my plan, I lock God out of working in my heart to shape me into what He wants me to be to lead my family and for His purposes. When I start seeing his daily grace and mercy with gratitude, and leaving the outcome to God, this season becomes easier to bear.

Thank You (Ian, Temporal Echoes of the Eternal)

Over the past few days, we have been overwhelmed multiple times.

After a while, it gets exhausting. I was overwhelmed with terror over what I did not know, but what I suspected. I wanted to initially think that what Ian was experiencing was due to a lazy eye and an ear infection, but the fears wouldn't leave me alone. On Wednesday night, about 36 hours before the MRI, this is what I wrote in my journal:

I want to believe that the symptoms aren't related. I want to believe that he's got an inner ear infection, plus a lazy eye. However, it's difficult when a doctor wants him to have an MRI. When those words are out in the open, they invite other words that make my strength leave. Words like "tumor," "inoperable" and others that I can't bear to write.

Then, after we got the news, I was overwhelmed once again. I can't remember the last time I've felt such crushing waves of sorrow and terror. My little boy...my "warrior in training"...this little guy whom I call (to his annoyance) "Buddy Bear"...suddenly, I'm being told that I'm not going to get to see him grow up. That all the dreams we've had for him are, in all likelihood, not going to happen. The grief and fear came on me and would not let go even now, it's still a terrible constant companion, welling up when it's not wanted, and it overcomes me.

But, Deb and I are also overwhelmed by the outpouring of compassion that we're seeing and hearing from our family and friends. I've lost count of the number of churches and prayer groups that are lifting us up. Emails, voice mails, calls and visits have been flooding in since we started letting people know about Ian. Knowing how many people love and care for Ian, as well as Deb and me, has been...I can't put it into words. "Touching" doesn't come close. "Humbling" is closer to the mark. "Needed" is definitely there. "God-sent" is right on the mark. We need to hear from you at this time, and more importantly, later in this process. But right now, it's one of the few bright spots in this nightmare, to hear so many people say "We love you, and we want to help."

Thank You, to everyone who has contacted us, and continues to think of us. If I have to be overwhelmed, this is not a bad way to have it happen. I want to say "Thank You" to our friends at Living Waters church in Lakeville. We haven't been with you very long, but the kindness we've seen has been proof that God is living in this body of believers. We want to thank our friends at Berean Baptist in Burnsville; you have been so quick to reach out and show how much you care. Friends who we see regularly, and those whom we haven't seen in years are taking the time to let us know that they love us and want to help any way they can. We treasure all of you, and hope that soon we can tell you in person what God is doing through this time.

Shining in God's Timing, for God's Purpose

I'm going through a time at work that I would just rather avoid, if I had a choice. It's not fatal, I'm thankful to still have a job and I can see how it can be a step forward eventually. However, in the short term...let's just say that I've had more pleasant prospects.

Last evening, I had an accident with our snowblower, and it's not working at the moment. So, I was outside at 5:15 a.m., shoveling out the driveway. Since I wasn't having to maneuver a snowblower, I bothered to take a few seconds to look up and see if there were any stars. I saw a few stars, a planet, and a quarter moon.

I've always preferred partially-lighted phases to a full moon, just because, to me, it looks more three-dimensional. This morning, the moon was very clear; a distinct sphere, placed in the sky and incompletely illuminated. I felt the Holy Spirit point out a correlation. God designed the orbits of the Earth and Moon for a reason, for His purposes. For example, civilizations have used moon phases as a means for keeping track of time for millenia. I felt the Holy Spirit say, "That was My purpose, and the heavens change in My timing. There are reasons and a design behind the arrangement. Similarly, you're going through a dim time; I haven't left you, and later, in My timing, you will shine again. But the only way you shine is by My light, and for My purpose."

I pray that I will maintain an eternal perspective. If I shine, Lord, then let it be in Your timing and by Your light.

Pure Joy

About once every month, I get the opportunity to play bass guitar at our new church, Living Waters. This past Sunday, for the special music we played a little number named "Deep (Way Down)" by the group Selah. It's a short, but fun little gospel number. We had fun with it, taking the opportunity to play a little louder and with more enthusiasm. Even the practices were fun (if not exhausting). The congregation seemed to enter into it as well. I heard from several people that they enjoyed it, and remarked about how much fun the band seemed to be having.

I reflected on the joy that we felt during that song. It was even decided to extend it a little bit (going through the chorus one more time). As humans, when we encounter joy like that, it's natural to want to extend it a little bit longer, and make it last. We look back on those time, wishing we could revisit them, or even make plans to try to recreate it. The natural person would shrug and say that we need bad times to enjoy the fun times more, to appreciate them.

I came to a different conclusion. What we were experiencing this past Sunday-pure, innocent joy-is what we were made for all of the time. We, as human beings, were designed for it. Otherwise, we would not long for it intensely. That must have been when Adam and Eve experienced before the fall in the garden, only all the time. And that's what we have to look forward to in Heaven. Pure, uninterrupted joy in the presence of our God and King. And a thought like that makes me long for it all the more.

It's amazing the difference that a little experience makes.

Actually, a lot of experience. After a month of painting our house (for those who haven't known or haven't been paying attention, I mean the exterior, not interior), I'm much less bothered by getting up on a ladder, or on our roof, to address house issues. I wouldn't call myself fearless, but definitely much less bothered.

A few years ago, a small water stain appeared on the ceiling of our living room/dining room. The stain was by a wall, but the leak was farther up on the roof, at a vent. A local handyman diagnosed the issue, and recommended that instead of paying him, I get some sealant and caulk around the vent. The whole procedure was performed without incident, but it was a learning experience for me.

Fast forward about five years, and we get another water stain (same room, slightly different spot). I know exactly what to do. While I'm sealing the vent edges, I can't help but think about how that's how things exist in this world; stuff wears out. It breaks, cracks, yellows, stains, dries out, molds, wears out or just starts looking old. Sometimes we get excited about the prospect of replacing something worn out with something new (see: Tom plus computer equipment), other times we fret, fume and curse about having to deal with with the huge expense or bother (see: Tom and plumbing). As much as we might try to avoid it, stuff doesn't last in this world.

In Matthew 6:19-21, Jesus said:
Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart is also.

For those who have trusted in Jesus Christ as their savior, they will someday exist in a place where entropy has no hold on their ecology. Things will not break down, grow stale or wear out. Whatever is built will last.

I love to build things. I started with Lego's, moved to an erector set. Now, typically, I build with software. So, I have an appreciation for well-engineered creations. However, as cool that brand-new Volkswagen may look, someday it will wear out. If I truly believed that, I might approach how I spend my money and my time very differently.