Charisa Stories

Tag: cancer

  • Where Is God in Your Darkest Moments?

    Where Is God in Your Darkest Moments?

    Occasionally I receive a message that I HAVE TO WATCH this video. I tend to push back on all-caps requests and the results when I do bite are usually mixed. Rarely do I click on one of those recommendations and have my world rocked by what I see and hear. That happened recently when I listened to the America’s God Talent audition of a young singer who goes by the stage name Nightbirde. Her real name is Jane Marczewski and she grew up in Zanesville, Ohio about 90 miles from my hometown of Chillicothe.

    Regular readers of my humble musings know I rarely give homework but this week is the exception.

    I am going to ask (make that beg) you to click here and watch the video of her appearance on the show.

    Her original song “It’s Ok” and melodic voice would have given her a great chance to advance. Add her story and attitude and you have something truly special.

    Nightbirde on America’s Got Talent, NBC

    At the age of 26 Marczewski was diagnosed with breast cancer. After battling that foe she received more bad news on the last day of 2019. This is from her must read blog site.

    On New Years Eve, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Innumerable tumors were found throughout my lungs, liver, lymph nodes, ribs, and spine. I was on the living room floor leaning over the report, head in my hands. Six months to live. Two percent chance of survival.

    Bald Girl in the Dark – Nightbirde.co

    Two weeks later her husband said he was leaving her. Jane’s life spiraled into darkness that overwhelmed and consumed her for months. Her personal lamentations delivered from a mat on the bathroom floor were a form of worship that we often overlook. God isn’t shaken by our questions, doubt, anger, fear, or cynicism. God is especially present in those moments. Marczewski learned that lesson in a course that was incredibly painful and one that no one signs up for voluntarily.

    Even on days when I’m not so sick, sometimes I go lay on the mat in the afternoon light to listen for Him. I know it sounds crazy, and I can’t really explain it, but God is in there—even now. I have heard it said that some people can’t see God because they won’t look low enough, and it’s true. Look lower. God is on the bathroom floor.

    From God is on the Bathroom Floor – Nightbride.co

    Indeed He is. God is wherever our broken hearts and souls reside. Jane experienced on that bathroom mat the truth of Paul’s words to the Church at Philippae.

    Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:6-7, NLT)

    Joni and I have experienced that peace during sickness and loss that we cannot attribute to anything other that God’s comforting Spirit.

    Nightbirde’s performance stunned the panel with her powerful lyrics and spirit. Judge and noted curmudgeon Simon Cowell noted with amazement how casually she had disclosed her cancer battle. I have been marinating in her response for weeks.

    “You can’t wait until life isn’t hard anymore before you decide to be happy.“

    Wow.
    Wow.
    Wow.

    I know that is a not a particularly articulate response but is that not an incredible philosophy of life?

    How does a 30 year old divorced cancer patient achieve the insight and wisdom of a weathered saint? She learned that lesson through pain, adversity, and trust that God was still there in the darkest moments. More insight from Jane.

    God doesn’t take away my darkness, he adds light. He doesn’t spare me of thirst, he brings water. He doesn’t cure my loneliness, he comes near. So why do we believe that when we are in pain, it must mean God is far?

    Bald Girl in the Dark – Nightbirde.co

    Storms are a necessary part of the refining program. Too often we view the storms as something to endure instead of a sovereignly directed opportunity to grow in grace and become more like Jesus. God loves us too much to give us only smooth sailing. That sounds crazy, but it is really logical when you think about how we mature. God gives us both good and bad things to help us mature spiritually. We have to lean into a sovereign God who sees exactly what we need to grow.

    All followers of Christ wrestle with doubt when we are deep in the storm. Can we believe that trials are really tender mercies in disguise? That is exactly what David wrote in Psalm 119:71-77.

    My suffering was good for me,
    for it taught me to pay attention to your decrees.
    Your instructions are more valuable to me than millions in gold and silver.
    You made me; you created me.
    Now give me the sense to follow your commands.
    May all who fear you find in me a cause for joy, for I have put my hope in your word.
    I know, O Lord, that your regulations are fair; you disciplined me because I needed it.
    Now let your unfailing love comfort me, just as you promised me, your servant.
    Surround me with your tender mercies so I may live, for your instructions are my delight.

    Too many Christians have a theology more resembling karma than Christ. If I do this good thing, then good things should happen. If a bad thing happens, I must have done something bad in God’s eyes. That is not the gospel. Jane Marczewski noted in a podcast that she had made “peace with my life and my story looking differently than what I would’ve written.”

    Most of our stories have taken turns that we wouldn’t choose. But we can choose how we respond. Like Jane Marczewski I want to believe God is there in the darkness. That He will provide what I need as I trust Him. And that ultimately because of His grace I can believe with all of my heart that “it’s ok”.

    Update: Nightbirde announced today that she is withdrawing from the next round of America’s Got Talent to focus on her ongoing cancer battle after her health has taken a turn for the worse. Her statement exemplifies this amazing person who continues to inspire and challenge me. “Thank you for all your support, it means the world to me. Stay with me, I’ll be better soon. I’m planning my future, not my legacy. Pretty beat up, but I’ve still got dreams.” Let’s pray for healing, peace, courage, and an ongoing sense of God’s presence for her.

    My book Stay: Lessons My Dogs Taught Me about Life, Loss, and Grace addresses the principle that preparing for death is really preparing for life and living joyfully today. Click here for more info.

  • The Gift of Being Present

    The Gift of Being Present

    To celebrate the paperback release of Stay this week’s article is a free preview of one of my favorite chapters.

    Chapter 3 from STAY: Lessons My Dogs Taught Me about Life, Loss, and Grace

    BE PRESENT– Journal Entry

    One reason Hannah is such a special friend is that she entered our lives during a difficult season when her human mom—my wife, Joni—was diagnosed with breast cancer. Hannah provided a comforting presence during a scary time. I found an anonymous quote that sums up one big reason why: “One reason a dog can be such a comfort when you’re feeling blue is that she doesn’t try to find out why.”

    Hannah knew how to deal with people going through an emotionally and physically draining valley. Her solution was simple but powerful.

    Be present.

    It was just the unsolicited encouragement that Joni and I so needed at the time. When this cancer journey began, we learned a lot of hard lessons. One of the hardest to swallow was people’s reactions, how those close to us dealt with tragedy and illness. We had expectations of who would be there for us during the storm, but those expectations were rarely correct. Some people that we were sure would be steadfast became invisible. Others who we would have wagered the mortgage on to be constant encouragers became awkward and distant. When your expectations are met with inconsistent responses from friends and family, it can devastate your spirit and lead to despair.

    Although reasons were never given, I could guess why people struggled with our situation, based on the unique baggage they brought to their own story. Perhaps cancer made them fear their own mortality. Some acted as if cancer is contagious. Perhaps they worried they might say the wrong thing. Others might have felt pressure to make sense of a senseless situation or the need to figure out the spiritual reason for the trial, and when they had no answer to give us, they retreated. I understand all that now, but at the time it hurt.

    That’s what Hannah sensed. Her intuitive evaluation of my emotions was uncanny. Hannah would come to me and nudge me as if to say, “I’m here.” As she shifted her big brown eyes toward mine, her gaze communicated, “I don’t know how to help, but I wish I could.”

    There was incredible comfort in her presence.

    She was right. That was all I needed—presence. When Joni was sick with cancer, all we needed from friends and fellow followers of Jesus was caring presence.

    The theology of why bad things happen could wait. The go-to verse that “all things work together for good” (Romans 8:28, KJV) could be explored when time gave perspective. You don’t need to explain or spiritualize trials. You need to be present and willing to walk with your friend or loved one in grace and love. Simple, yet incredibly powerful.

    Remember me mentioning Job and his suffering in the introduction? At first, Job’s friends were fantastic empathizers. When they simply sat with Job and grieved with him, I am sure he took comfort in these men who cared enough to be present. But then they decided to speak their piece. They resorted to the familiar default mode of needing to “figure out” what Job did to trigger his suffering. They tried to explain what they could not understand.

    We had a few “Job friends” in our cancer journey. God was faithful to provide caring people to walk with Joni and me. We thanked Him for those He prompted to love us, instead of wondering why others were not there. That was a spiritual turning point for us.

    During Joni’s cancer, Hannah obviously had no idea why we were sad. She had no more understanding of Joni’s disease than she would later have of her own prognosis. But she could sense our sorrow and she was present in the moment.

    Joni’s breast cancer treatment included surgery and a year of chemotherapy followed by weeks of radiation. We joked about our weekly dates at the “Slow-Drip Spa,” but there was not much humor to be found in the aftermath of those sessions. Joni fought nausea and her plummeting white blood cell counts were dangerously low, compromising her recovery. One day after we returned home from Joni’s chemotherapy session, she went straight to the bedroom, exhausted, to try to sleep off the nausea. I sat on the couch in our living room staring at nothing as I tried to process all that Joni was going through.

    Hannah sensed my sadness but wasn’t sure what to do. She walked by, looked at me, picked up a tennis ball, and brought it to me. I could see a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. I imagined a thought bubble appearing over her head with the message, “Would this help make you less sad?”

    I tossed the ball to her, but she did not play with the normal zeal that she had during our games of catch.

    This day Hannah caught the ball, calmly brought it back, and gently dropped it in my lap. It was as if she was doing this for me and not her. She was giving me a few moments of respite from my fears. I don’t recall another time that she played in that way.

    I agree with Martin Luther’s thoughts: “The dog is the most faithful of animals and would be much esteemed were it not so common. Our Lord God has made his greatest gifts the commonest.”

    I think God has given us a model of walking, breathing grace in these amazing creatures.

    The empathetic instinct to pain that my friend Hannah possesses can be a template for how I can be present with God. There are times when my baggage or fear causes me to be awkward and distant from God. I am not sure what to say or even if God wants to deal with my weak faith again. I am tempted to talk bravely as if nothing is wrong. But my heart is crying out in pain. God comforts me in the brave talking, but He rushes toward the crying of my soul. I think that is what the apostle Paul is describing in Romans, assuring us that the Holy Spirit intercedes on our behalf when we are too anguished to even find words:

    The Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words. And the Father who knows all hearts knows what the Spirit is saying, for the Spirit pleads for us believers in harmony with God’s own will. – Romans 8:26-27

    The Holy Spirit senses our hearts and literally interprets our anguish to the Father. God desires that we simply be present with Him. We don’t need to pray eloquent psalms of petition. We simply put our heads in the lap of Abba Father and say, “I’m here.” And isn’t it interesting that it is in this very intimate context of submission and tender dependence on the Holy Spirit that the oft-quoted phrase about how “all things work together for good” occurs?

    The Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words. And the Father who knows all hearts knows what the Spirit is saying, for the Spirit pleads for us believers in harmony with God’s own will. And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. – Romans 8:26-28, emphasis added

    We isolate the verse about “everything working for good” from its context and throw it out as “comfort” for those who are suffering. Paul says that God is with us in our suffering, not just for one specific event, but for all of the trials we will face in our lives. All of them will be ultimately redeemed for those who love God.

    The purpose of our trials is not necessarily to have things work out neatly, according to our desires. Romans 8:29 says, “God knew his people in advance, and he chose them to become like his Son.” God chose believers to become like His Son. All of these trials together will cause us to become more like Jesus. That may or may not mean a particular event will work out well. How often have we wounded a hurting soul with our shallow spiritualizing when he or she just needed a friend?

    It starts with being present, a lesson well taught by my friend Hannah. She gave me a clear example of being present when your friend is hurting. Just be present. Not all-knowing. Not awkwardly fumbling for words. Simply present. Learning to be present for a friend or a loved one is a precious skill. Henri Nouwen captures this heart of friendship well.

    “When we honestly ask ourselves which persons in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not-knowing, not-curing, not-healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is the friend who cares.”

    Henri Nouwen

    Tonight I got into bed late, and Hannah got up from her comfy bed and walked to my side. Maybe she needed my presence. Maybe she sensed my need for a therapeutic ear scratch. I suspect the truth is that both of us had needs that were met by that simple action of presence and affection. That is how it works when we drop our fears and selfishness to make ourselves lovingly present in a loved one’s pain. It is therapeutic for everyone involved.

    During Joni’s difficult cancer trial we learned that the peace that surpasses all understanding is real. We lived it and we got through a very trying year by leaning on each other, great doctors, good friends, God’s grace, and lots of Hannah nuzzles.