Category: Uncategorized

There are abundant blessings to be found in every trial. One of the surprising blessings for me in our breast cancer journey has been meeting the sisterhood of breast cancer. That is when I first realized that bald is beautiful. These women are everywhere. And they are awesome. They are courageous. They have dignity and strength. One of my favorite t-shirts simply says…

I am a REAL survivor!

Not some weirdo who eats bugs and runs around scheming against one another to win big money. These survivors have looked death in the face and they have not blinked. Part of my early adapting to Joni losing her hair was watching these beautiful women come into the infusion suite at the cancer center. For those of you who have been blessed with never having to learn the terminology the infusion center is a room full of reclining chairs where you come for your chemo cocktail drip. Not exactly my idea of happy hour. But I came to the realization that, amazingly, this was not a depressing place. They arrive wearing scarves, headwraps, turbans, hats, and wigs. But what struck me in the early processing of this disease is that most of these women had discarded the shallow worldly perception of beauty. They had embraced a new beauty. The beauty of dignity and authenticity. Some were sassy with big earrings and bold makeup. Some were elegant. Most were casual.

The veterans quickly realized that Joni and I were chemo rookies. With genuine friendliness and concern they showed us the unfortunate ropes of chemo. You don’t get the horror stories in this room. No examples of people who had “what you have” and suffered terrible side effects. This is a room full of hope and comaraderie. These “princess warriors” are remarkable. They lead by example and by encouragement.

You can do it. I have.
You will make it. I did.
You will want to quit. I wanted to. 
Don’t give in. I didn’t.

I reflected on this sorority of cancer sisters. We felt love. We felt acceptance. Financial status did not matter. Clothing was irrelevant. Careers did not matter. What are you driving? Who gives a rodent’s derriere? Size of house? Could not care less. Advanced degrees? Only mattered if you were above 98.7. Everyone was equally committed to one task. The focus of this room was giving support and comfort to those trying to slay a giant named cancer.

I started to think about how we do church in America. If I asked a large number of people to answer the questions above about their experience at church I would likely be dismayed. Based on the hundreds of emails and responses I get to my books I would suggest that many do not feel loved and accepted. I have personally observed that financial status sometimes does matter. I have been saddened to watch how clothing matters to some as well. Career? I’m afraid so. Advanced degrees? Oh, yeah. Why do these trivial things matter in the church and not in the cancer center? Maybe we have not as clearly identified the enemy in church. In the cancer center we named the place after the enemy. We hate cancer. The sisterhood and their not always so valiant knights are committed to slaying that beast. In the church we seem to forget we have an enemy just as deadly. That enemy is sin. We don’t really hate sin as much as we should, do we? If we hated sin as much as we hate cancer we concentrate on stopping it. And I must remind you that we would attack sin…not the sinner. No one at the cancer center hates the person who has cancer in their body. We hate the cancer. So the concentration is removing the cancer and encouraging the patient to heal. But at church we too often attack the sin and the sinner. I wonder what the recovery rate would be if we reviled patients for getting cancer? I am sure it would be much lower. It was not Joni’s “fault“ that she has cancer. It is just a fact and we are seeking a cure. It is not necessarily your brother and sister’s “fault“ that they are sinful. It is just a fact and they need a cure. Jesus used the medical metaphor beautifully.

While Jesus was having dinner at Matthew’s house, many tax collectors and “sinners” came and ate with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they asked his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and ‘sinners’?”

On hearing this, Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means:  ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice. ‘For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”   Matt 9  NIV

I have read that passage a hundred times. But now it makes so much sense. Maybe we need to rethink our mission in church. And narrow our focus. Because it seems to me that if we can emulate the sisterhood of breast cancer survivors we could start a revival. Because cancer makes you realize what matters. And realizing what Christ did on the Cross should makes us realize what mattered to Him. Hating sin. Not sinners. Jesus clearly loved them. But our mission should be passionately hating sin and helping others conquer it. Do we? If we do then we should all daily head to the spiritual version of the infusion room. Sit down and let the Holy Spirit infuse our heart and spirit. That infusion will kill the sin in you and me so we can encourage and help others to attack sin. The reason is simple. We hate the sin and we love them.

We have established a blog to keep you updated on Joni’s cancer journey. The site is Sharing the Journey. It will be updated whenever there is news to report.

Blessings,

Dave

One of my smart aleck remarks that I use periodically is that “I am not burdened by that whole maturity thing.” There are many times when I go about demonstrating that in real life. But the unwelcome intrusion of “life” into my happy little routine has caused me to evaluate a lot of things. God is teaching and revealing a lot of things to me during our cancer journey.

1. I am clearly a work in progress as a follower of Jesus.
2. He has done a lot of work over the years that I was not aware of until this cancer trial came along.

Last night I had the weird privilege of helping clip off the rest of my bride’s hair that was falling out from the chemotherapy. As I reflected on that moment later I realized that nearly everything I knew about beauty when I was 25 years old was wrong. Like most men I looked for appearance first and then tried to find some good qualities. Joni was a stunningly beautiful woman when I fell in love with her over thirty years ago.  I have often said that I married my trophy wife first and got it over with. I also joke that I married her to deepen my gene pool. And she has done that admirably. One of the ironies of this cancer journey is remembering how much I loved Joni’s long hair in the early years of our relationship. In fact I got upset when she cut it a few years into our marriage without discussing it first. Her hair was a real part of her beauty in my stunted male view of what beauty in a woman means.

To be completely honest I wondered how I would react when the chemo therapy had its inevitable effect and she would be bald. Oh, I knew I would say the right things. I am not that stupid. But how would I react inside? Would it matter more than I cared to admit? And that is when I realized how much God has been working over the years. He has been retooling my thinking and my heart. Patiently. Quietly. Lovingly.

Joni’s hair began to give up while I was on a recent trip. She decided to get the buzz cut while I was gone (again without my consent). So I walked in the door and she, in typical Joni fashion asked, “Want to see my head?” When I did I realized what God has been doing over the years to a shallow and selfish guy. He has been changing me and what I perceive to be beautiful. Because the truth is that Joni is as beautiful to me today as she was with that long, shining hair thirty years ago. That is because I am learning what beauty in a woman really looks like.

Some days are better than others. I am grateful for the days when the sparkle returns to her beautiful blue eyes. Those eyes are the windows to a soul that has more depth than I could ever achieve. She is remarkable. She is my hero. Her faith inspires me. Her smile still lights up the room. I treasure each moment that I can make her laugh. The sound of her laughing is like a symphony to me. I have learned that beauty is so much more than what the world and testosterone ridden young men (or older men) think it is. Beauty is a package. One part physical to be sure. But beauty in the covenant of marriage is also emotional and spiritual.  When I fell in love with Joni I just thought I was marrying a foxy lady. I was really too stupid to know I was marrying a gift from God. The classic description of a Godly woman from Proverbs 31 fits her pretty well.

Who can find a virtuous and capable wife? She is worth more than precious rubies. Her husband can trust her, and she will greatly enrich his life…

She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs with no fear of the future. When she speaks, her words are wise, and kindness is the rule when she gives instructions. She carefully watches all that goes on in her household and does not have to bear the consequences of laziness. Her children stand and bless her. Her husband praises her: There are many virtuous and capable women in the world, but you surpass them all! Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last; but a woman who fears the LORD will be greatly praised. Reward her for all she has done. Let her deeds publicly declare her praise.

I married an amazing women. Right now she happens to be bald…and so very beautiful.

One thing I hope is true of these humble ramblings is that they are, at the very least, honest. So I will confess that I struggle mightily with “celebrity” books. I remember when my first book was released and I visited a local book emporium. One lonely copy of my brand new baby was buried on a bottom shelf in the back. Featured on a table at the front of the store were dozens of copies of the autobiography of fifteen year old singer Charlotte Church! The title was “Voice of an Angel” and the subtitle included the obvious disclaimer…My life: (So far). Here is some of what she had learned: (so far).

…what I’ve learned is that no experience goes to waste. Life is made up of building blocks. Each block makes way for the next block. Because of this there is something positive to be gained from everything you do. Just be true to yourself and be prepared to work hard.

Next I applied a valuable technique that I learned from radio talk show host Glen Beck. I duct taped my head to keep it from exploding. Is that how Jesus would respond? Probably not. But no matter how personable or talented a fifteen year old might be they have not accumulated enough life experience to write an autobiography. I remember hearing a noted pastor say that you should not write a word until you are forty. Since I was younger at that time I thought he was an out of touch old geezer. Now that I have celebrated thirteen anniversaries of that forty year milestone I can see exactly what he meant. I am just now starting to figure this journey out. Am I a slow learner? Maybe. But the Bible tells us to exalt the grumpy old men in your assembly. 

Gray hair is a crown of splendor;
it is attained by a righteous life.  Prov 16:31  NIV 

That’s what I’m talking about! Of course, gray hair can also be attained by stress, hard living, and bad genetics but I choose the wisdom of Solomon to explain my own graying mane. 

But seriously, what is it with the celebrity worship in this culture? Charlotte Church’s premature autobiography came to mind when I was again perusing the local book vendor. There, staring at me from a large display, was actor/comedian Jim Belushi flexing his bicep with his new book title tattooed across it.

                 Real Men Don’t Apologize 

In the interest of full disclosure I must also confess that I was a bit envious of Belushi’s biceps. If I tattooed a book title across my bicep it would have to be a one word title in small type. Chicago Sun-Times writer Mike Thomas wrote this about Belushi’s philosophy of life.

“Listen, anger is a good friend of mine,” he says by phone from his soon-to-be-vacated Brentwood home, a revamped bungalow bought with money earned from his 1986 big-screen hit (and career springboard) “About Last Night.” “I’ve had many friends,” he continues, candor couched in subtle shtick. “Cigarettes were a very fine friend. I had alcohol — niiiiiice buddy. Anger has always been a friend of mine, so I’m not gonna let him go. I let everything else go.  “[Anger] protects you,” he says. “It’s always protected me. And now my wife says, ‘You don’t need the protection anymore, honey. You can let it all go.’ And you know what I say to her? ‘Letting go’ is the most overused phrase in America ! I don’t want to let it go!’ ” 

And yet that is exactly what the Biblical strategy is concerning anger. Let it go. For example…

But now you must rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips.  Colossians 3:8

Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.  Eph 4:31 

So should I listen to Saint Paul or should I live my life  “According to Jim”?    Hmmmm….  Here are some other examples of manliness from Belushi’s book. My comments are italicized.  

– Real men don’t apologize for being who they are. Depends on who you are. Some men desperately need to apologize…and now!

– Sometimes you have to earn respect the old-fashioned way — with your fist. Real men understand what respect really is and that it is rarely, if ever, earned with fists.

 – Every man has to have a little bit of Gandhi, Clint Eastwood and Curly in him. I do like that. The Good, the Bad, and the Goofy. Marketing slogan…Meditating while comically smacking others up the side of the head makes my day!

 – Beer does not judge you. Drinking lots of it makes you more sociable and funny. Perhaps the most dangerous statement I have read in a while. I know that Belushi clarifies this a bit by saying he has, for the most part, stopped drinking.  And I know he is going for the joke here. But drinking lots of beer makes some men dangerously violent (not more sociable) and disgustingly vile (not funny). No substance judges you. But you may be judged by the effect those substances have on you. Real men remain in control. 

– Always remember that to a woman, the relationship is more important than you are. How about simply admitting that the relationship is different for women than for most men? I do think that he has demonstrated one truth here. Men would generally rather rationalize than take the time to  understand. Rationalization is sooo much easier. 

– Have a Fortress of Solitude. Find a spot that is yours and yours alone. In your Fortress of Solitude you can be the Knight of Brooding Silence! This is always a big hit with the damsel of the castle, the lovely Lady of the Chilly Response. 

– Don’t be a wuss. So what if you fail? Strength is in the attempt. I would agree with the essence of this one. So what if you do fail? But the strength of a man is in his character. And the source of that strength, for this man, comes from a real man named Jesus. 

My take on the thought that real men don’t apologize? Sorry Jim. I have to respectfully disagree with you. I am sure there are some chuckles in the book and maybe even a gem or two of wisdom. But this is my definition of a real man from a guy who is several light years away from celebrity. 

Real men do apologize. Real men are often wrong and they believe they lose none of their manhood to admit that fact. Real men cry. Real men forgive. Real men stand up for the less advantaged and the disenfranchised. Real men give of themselves. Real men are willing to sacrifice for their family, their country, and their faith. Real men model integrity and the courage to do the right thing even when it hurts them personally.

Real men are hard to find. I have been around a lot of men that the average person considers real men. I have watched rich and talented men in the NBA, MLB, and network television for nearly three decades. But out of all those talented, wealthy, and gifted men I have met the man I most admire is a guy you never heard of and likely never will. His name is Bob. He is a real man. An outstanding coach of young men. A great father. A loyal friend. He is a real man because of how he has loved his wife through a difficult cancer journey. When I used to hear Paul exhort us to love our wives as Christ loved the church I would push back. No way. That isn’t even possible. Then Bob came along and screwed it up for me by doing it and doing it well. Thanks Bob for showing me what a real man looks like. 

And now I have the chance to trust the real God-Man Jesus to help me do that same thing with my wife Joni during our cancer journey. Real men do a lot of things. I think a real man tries to follow the words and example of Jesus. Without apology.

For the last post you were blessed with a respite from yours truly as eldest Son Matt filled this space. His words impacted me and made me think about how I view others. We really don’t know what baggage others are carrying. Here are Matt’s comments about an unwilling conversation he had on a plane with a guy who just needed to talk.

He starts it.  The conversation begins with small talk. I am an unwilling, tired, frustrated twenty something that doesn’t want to talk about jobs, hometowns, or those small talk things that fill gaps in between awkward silences as I try to return to Velvet Elvis or Backpacker or Sports Illustrated only to be interrupted again. He rambles some more about life and love and all the things I don’t want to talk about.  A tear wells in his eye.  Divorce.  Kids.  Lost jobs.  Bankruptcy.  Grace.  Forgiveness.  Redemption.  Hope.  I was wrong.  He was carrying a lot.  My backpack had some books and magazines but he is lugging a broken life.  He was carrying it in his heart, soul, mind…and he needed to let someone know.  I couldn’t see it.  I didn’t even ask. Did I even care?    

How often do I judge others with no consideration for what they are going through? Recording artist Sawyer Brown has a song that describes this sad trait of our fallen nature. The video for the song They Don’t Understand is powerful. The lyrics speak to me and my amazing ability to center my universe around…me.

Everybody’s busy with their own situation
Everybody’s lost in their own little world
Bottled up, hurried up trying to make a dream come true
They don’t understand
Everybody’s living like there ain’t no tomorrow
Maybe we should stop and take a little time
‘Cause you never really know what your neighbors going through
They don’t understand

Joni and I are learning a lot from her cancer journey. Now that she is follicly challenged she has told me that part of the adjustment is getting used to the feeling that people are looking at her. One of the t-shirts that I found when writing about the unlikely topic of cancer humor earlier this week came to mind.

The t-shirt simply says….”Don’t Stare…Say a Prayer!” I found the story of the t-shirt and how to buy it.  Here is an excerpt from the site.

“This store is a joint project masterminded by 9 year old Ryan Howard and implemented with the assistance of The Sean Berkley Foundation. Ryan is a 9 year old boy battling a brain tumor.  After surgery and chemotherapy, young Ryan has lost his hair.  He came up with the phrase “Don’t Stare…Say a Prayer” one evening while he was out to eat with his family and noticed people staring at him. These simple words from such a young man echo the emotions and feelings of everyone affected by a life altering sickness. All proceeds from sales of Ryan Boy items will be split 50-50 between The Ryan Howard Fund and The Sean Berkley Foundation.”

We tend to stare or uncomfortably avert our eyes when we seen people affected like Ryan. How about praying for the grace to look them in the eye, smile, and warmly greet them like every other person you meet. And then silently say a prayer. You may need that grace extended sooner than you know. Sawyer Brown gives us the basis for trying to understand and be graceful about what others are going through. It started at Calvary.

A man hanging on a wooden cross
Giving everything to save the lost
Everybody’s staring not knowing what he’s goin through
Somebody said you don’t have a prayer
If your a king come on down from there
The man just turned his head looked up and stared
He said please forgive them for they have not seen the light
they’ll come to know me when i come back to life
Go to heaven to make everything alright
So please forgive your children, they don’t understand

Please do forgive us Lord. We don’t understand. But by the power of your Holy Spirit can you help us to try?

Today you get a break. I am pleased and proud to turn these humble ramblings over to a guest rambler. And a pretty special one at that. Eldest son Matt came home a couple of weeks ago to join a weekend home edition of “Makeover for Mom”. The boys decided to show their love for their wonderful Mom by updating a tired bathroom, cleaning out a cluttered garage, and stripping some outdated wallpaper. They worked almost around the clock and the results were wonderful for both the house and the heart of a Mom who felt very loved. On his way home to Nashville Matt put these thoughts together. I proudly turn my space over to my Son. Enjoy.

We carry a lot.  In our hands, hearts, souls, minds…we always have baggage.  While walking through the airport recently, bored and exhausted, I started trying to figure people out.  Briefcase, loafers, Blackberry…small business owner.  Backpack, flip flops, Nalgen bottle…college student. Shorts, laughing, holding hands…honeymoon.  This game is easy! 

I  wonder what people are thinking of me?  Do I appear to be who I really am?  I am wearing jeans, flip flops, a backpack, and carrying a Sports Illustrated, Backpacker Magazine, and Rob Bell’s Velvet Elvis. Then it dawns on me.  It is like the times when you are hiking and you see the sunrise. Even though you knew all along that sunrises are beautiful you suddenly notice it, and it makes sense to you.  Those moments when mindless clutter is replaced with abnormal clarity.  In this brief moment, in the middle of an over stimulated, crowded, stressed out airport terminal, I realized that my life’s passion, loves, and purpose were being carried under my arm. 

I love my wife, hiking, baseball, and Jesus.  I am passionate about being a good husband, enjoying a great game, seeing God in the mountains, and pursuing Jesus in all that I do and all of who I am.  It struck me that I was carrying all of me in one hand.  I was holding a key to everything that had power in my life.  Can others see it?  Would anyone notice?  I might as well give you my Social Security number.  Look at what I’m carrying!  My life.  My passions.  My loves.  All simplified and offered to the careful observer for deconstruction and criticism.
I put my things in the backpack.  I sift through a Bill Clinton biography and a book about chronic shopping habits at the airport bookstore to throw people off. 

After boarding the plane, I remove from the backpack my “life”. I began to observe passengers boarding  to try and guess my traveling companion from the options coming down the aisle.  Is it the one with the laptop or the one talking on the phone? I hope it is not the one that is jamming his luggage at the front overhead compartment even though he is sitting in the back because he thinks the plane will unload faster if his luggage is at the front.

Then I realize with a bit of a sinking feeling that the only traveler that can interrupt my reading, sleeping, and Sky Mall shopping time is the guy that is coming down the aisle now.  Nothing in his hands, no briefcase or backpack or Burger King bag or cell phone.  Nothing.  He brings only himself to the chair next to me.  How am I supposed to figure him out?  He sees my life.  But he’s not playing the game.  

He starts it.  The conversation begins with small talk. I am an unwilling, tired, frustrated twenty something that doesn’t want to talk about jobs, hometowns, or those small talk things that fill gaps in between awkward silences as I try to return to Velvet Elvis or Backpacker or Sports Illustrated only to be interrupted again. He rambles some more about life and love and all the things I don’t want to talk about.  A tear wells in his eye.  Divorce.  Kids.  Lost jobs.  Bankruptcy.  Grace.  Forgiveness.  Redemption.  Hope.  I was wrong.  He was carrying a lot.  My backpack had some books and magazines but he is lugging a broken life.  He was carrying it in his heart, soul, mind…and he needed to let someone know.  I couldn’t see it.  I didn’t even ask. Did I even care?    

This game we play.  When we try to figure someone out, compare ourselves, say the right thing, and strategize the relationship.  It’s ugly.  It’s human.  We play that game.  We play that stupid game everyday.  Why?  Baseball, hiking, Jesus, marriage…those are great things to know about me.  They bind us, a community of diverse and weird people, to common passions. Those things allow us to be known.  They are insights into the truth about us.  Home runs, vows, the Appalachian Trail, and church affiliation do not define me.  You won’t know me.  But you can know about me.    

I have been walking around differently the last couple days.  I still notice the things that help me know about people.  They carry what they want me to know. They carry what they want me to think about them or ask them about.  The things in their hands can define, cover up, expose, or become keys that unlock questions that perhaps have never been asked. My favorite scripture is I Thessalonians 2:8…

“We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God, but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us.” 

Actually, Paul’s life was lived the other way.  It was life first, gospel second.  Know someone, be known.  Seek authentic, honest friendships where people are loved because of what the gospel has done for us and because we genuinely want others to experience that joy.

Today, my challenge to you is to be observant.  Look around at the people and what they carry.  Ask the question.  Make a connection.  Help someone be known.  You never know what they are carrying. They may need a hand with the load.

Contributed by Matt Burchett
Coordinator of New Student Programs
Belmont University