I was really anxious about my appointment Tuesday afternoon. Monday I had sent out emails and notices asking for prayer. I didn’t sleep well Monday night. I woke up in the wee hours Tuesday morning to dings and alerts from emails and texts - people on five continents, and across the country letting me know that they were praying. Organizations called their entire staff to prayer. That is incredibly humbling, to be on so many people’s minds, and knowing that they care enough for you to pray for you.

My appointment was at 1:15pm. I left the office in time to grab lunch, but my stomach was so nervous that I didn’t want to eat. I drove around a bit, wishing there was somewhere I could go to pray. I wanted to drop by a church office and ask someone to pray for me, but my church doesn’t have any offices or chapels; and it was lunch time, so the few pastors I know were unlikely to be available.

Finally I stopped at a local restaurant to get some cold-pressed juice. It would hydrate me so that the lab tech could find a vein easier, but it wouldn’t be heavy on my stomach. As I walked up, there in the window was my friend, Chris Wark (the “Chris Beat Cancer” guy). He saw me, (I am always glad for him to catch me making good choices with food!). He walked up to me in the middle of the restaurant and before I could say anything, said, “Man, this is a divine appointment! I get to pray for you today!” We visited, enjoyed beet juice and matcha, and he prayed for me – out loud, with boldness, right in the middle of a busy restaurant during the lunch rush. God is so good to me. That was exactly what I needed.

On to the scan and report

My CT scan was at 2:00pm, but I didn’t see the doctor until well after 4:00. And it was all about the report. I thought I was prepared, but I wasn’t. I had braced myself for either, “Cancer is dead”, or “Cancer has spread.” What I got was that the cancer is almost completely gone. There is still one small “something” left: the lesion in my right lung that was 2-1/2” and quite dense back in July is now only 2cm (+ ¾”). Between July and September it had shrunk 60%. Between September and yesterday it shrunk another 30% - and that was with no treatment.

I have no new tumors, and no tumor growth anywhere. What little may be left is rapidly going away!

This is a P-R-A-I-S-E G-O-Dreport!

The oncology fellow came in with the report first. He handed me the report and said, “How about that!” I’m not a doctor and I don’t know how to read those things, so I was trying not to look stupid, but struggling to understand what it was saying. I was looking for the initials “N.E.D.”, which weren’t on the report. So my first response was one of puzzlement and a little irritation that the guy wouldn’t just tell me what the report meant. He got offended, and said, “You look disappointed! How can you be disappointed?!”. And then he got up and walked out! (He is a brilliant guy. I hope learns some bedside manner before his fellowship is finished.)

Here is the actual report. GREAT NEWS !!! — Here is the actual report. **GREAT NEWS !!!**

A few minutes later Dr. P, my oncologist, came in grinning from ear to ear. “This is amazing news! You must be thrilled. We haven’t given you any treatments in almost 4 months, and your cancer is still shrinking at a radical rate. How do you feel?”

“I feel well. I feel normal.”

“Then get on with your life. We are not going to give you any more treatments. You will come back in 3 months for another scan; and if the tumor is smaller or gone, then we will pat you on the back and schedule you for another scan 3 months from then. That is the way this is going to go for the next couple of years. If the scan had found no spots at all, that is still the way that this would go – scans every 3 months, no treatments, and you getting on with your life. Congratulations!”

Dr. P went on to say that the lesion on my lung could already be dead. It might just be scar tissue that my body hasn’t finished consuming. Afterall, it was a big tumor. He said that while I could look at the report that way, he has to think of this as chronic disease management. For Dr. P, the cancer might not be dead, but it is certainly is dying. “Disease management” means that he runs CT scans every 3 months, and witnesses how my body is continually destroying the cancer without the help of immunotherapy.

“I will extol the LORD at all times. His praise will consistently be on my lips. My soul will express great confidence in the LORD.

Let those who are afflicted hear and be glad.”

When this started back in June, I was ready to go be with the Lord. That was reasonable given my diagnosis and prognosis. Smart doctors whom I love and respect will tell you that I should not have made it to December. But Victoria and I felt that God gave us a scripture, which unexpectedly came to us in our lowest moment, when we were the most hopeless. It was 2 Corinthians 1:8-11: a promise of deliverance that would come as result of the prayers of many.

Perhaps you prayed for me. Whether you prayed once or prayed daily, God heard you. He heard you and He took action. I am alive and well today because God acted on your prayers. Who knows what might have happened to me had you not prayed! ———— How does that make you feel?

This whole thing is far less about me than it is about God showing you and many others that He hears and He acts. We have weight with Him. He wants us to participate in His work, which is powerful and effective. I am alive! Thank you, God, and thank you, friends. He has given you and me authority because of our relationship with Him. He cares about you and listens to you. The more time we spend with Him the more what we care about becomes a reflection of His heart. You are being transformed when you talk to Him and advocate for others, and He is working to transform others as a result of your relationship.

Being on the receiving end of so much love and so much presence and power has been gloriously disruptive, and transformative for me. I know this journey is not over. But this is a time for loud, audatious praise and celebration.

_______________

Now What?

A few weeks ago I was reading the story about when Jesus gets in Peter’s boat and preaches to the crowd on the shore. When he finishes preaching, he says to Peter, “Let’s go fishing”. It’s a great story. Peter reluctantly lets down his nets, and ends up having the best day of fishing of his life. John and James bring their boat out to help, and they start filling both boats with fish – to the point where the boats were on the verge of sinking from all of the fish.

At that point, Peter falls at Jesus’ feet trembling and says, “Go away! You shouldn’t be in my boat. This isn’t right. I am a sinful man.”

I have read this story scores of times. But when I read it a few weeks ago, suddenly I began to weep. I understood for the first time exactly what Peter felt. Peter realized that this was not about fish, or income, or having a great time dealing with a huge haul. This was something much bigger. This was a holy thing that was happening, and he just happened to be the platform or canvas for it. He was aware of God’s presence, of God’s greatness, and that the weak link in this picture was him. I get it. I feel exactly the same way. The blessings that I have received have been encouraging. I am grateful. My boat is about to sink under the weight of them. I realize that this is something other. God has become bigger in my understanding – more powerful, and at the same time, more intimate – more unavoidable. I am in His way, but at His invitation. I feel like I am in His way. But He wants me here. I am trapped in a work that is wholly God and entirely holy. It is a place that I would choose in a moment of sanity, but a place that, now that I am in it, terrifies me. This is holy ground.

The end of the story is that Jesus tells Peter, “Don’t be afraid. From now on you will catch people.” Peter and his friends got their boats, full of fish, back to shore - - - and then walked away from them. It was the end of their fishing careers. There was a new commission. It was odd, unclear. No one had ever had that said to them before. I am sure they did not understand it. But there was nothing to be done. They followed Jesus.

I asked God that morning, “Are you going to have the last word in my situation, too? Is there something new you are going to want me to do?” I felt like He said, yes, a new season of life was coming for me that will require change. But I also felt like He said that he was not through “putting fish in my boat.” In other words, I should not rush through this current season. (I have no sense that I should leave Memphis or leave CCHF. Somehow, those things will likely remain constants for me. But something is coming.)

With Tuesday’s confirmation of God’s healing – this miracle, because that is what this is – I need some time. I need to process, to tie up a few loose ends (like paying medical bills), and to quiet my soul so that I can hear God when He speaks. I can’t make Him speak. I don’t want to rush through any this. But I want to be in a place to recognize His voice and to be ready to respond. So I am taking the next three weeks off.

How can you pray? Well, join me in praising God and celebrating what He has done. Make His praise extravagant and fun and borderline sinful. Have some wine, and dance and get loud! Try to exaggerate His greatness and love and power (that is impossible to do). Give Him thanks on my behalf. Dare to ask Him for something even greater – maybe a breakthrough of His presence and power in your church or your ministry or your community or our nation. And if you have any breath left, pray for Him to help me quiet myself and prepare myself to hear His life-giving, love-affirming voice.

And have as Merry of a Christmas and as Joyful of an Advent season as I will!

Thank you for praying for me. God heard. He always hears. I am truly grateful. Feel free to keep praying for me!