danmarkreid

[danmarkreid]

Embracing the Unknown

The Lord gives his people strength.

    He is a safe fortress for his anointed king.

Save your people!

    Bless Israel, your special possession.

Lead them like a shepherd,

    and carry them in your arms forever. (Psalm 28:8-9)

This week a mentor commented that one of my strengths is adaptability.  He noted that I am able to adjust and plan considering all the different scenarios that are at play. Honestly, Melody and I work hard to juggle our kids, our work and our child care in any decision we make (she is better at it then me). Ideally, we try to make sure that our lives are congruent and that all the competing priorities fit within our overall mission and priorities for our lives. 

This feedback was encouraging but to be honest felt ironic. It is true that I work hard to maintain a good balance between my work, my personal fitness, time with my kids and developing relationships with others. However, during COVID, it doesn’t matter what the schedule is that I carve out, nothing seems to go as planned.

I need to remember that this reality of juggling priorities is true for many of us right now. My parents did not go through a season where they did not know if schools were going to close next week. They did not live with the uncertainty of whether or not our family would get sick or whether or not their kids could get sent home because of one sick child in their class. We are living in an unprecedented time, with a whole new level of stressors.

And here we are, in a pandemic and learning to live with the low level anxieties that meet us each day. Who should I see? What should I do? What is currently permissible? What is currently wise? How do I keep myself but also others safe? We face a whole new set of questions that meet us each day, consistently making complex decisions and weighing risk.

I am beginning to realize that these uncertainties are starting to wear on me. I am tired. I am more anxious than I am willing to admit. I am scared. And unfortunately, it is not just because we are in a pandemic. No, it is heightened by the fact that I am a cancer survivor living in a pandemic! I already had things I was anxious about. Hearing people talk daily about cases and outbreaks and judging what the neighbours are or are not doing, just adds to the stress.

This April, I have my annual CT scan again. The doctors will take a scan of my lungs and this simple test will determine if there are any growths on my lungs. Last time, there was something there which resulted in a surgery I did not need. Phenomenal story but annoying at the time!

I am now two years and a couple months since my last surgery. If I were in charge, there would never be more surgeries! I am finally back to my pre-cancer weight, I feel healthy and strong. I love having time with my kids. I just started a new church and we are still small and fragile but it is filled with people that I love. In many ways, things in my life are going well.

But, I am not in charge. I am simply a human. Good looking dust! I don’t get to call the shots on what my molecules do or do not do. I am not in control of how my cells reproduce and multiply. I can't even tell when there is a small mass on my lungs!

All these things are out of my control. Along with whether or not a kid in my son’s class gets COVID, and whether or not we go into lockdown again and whether or not my church will be successful (whatever success means). 

I wasn’t aware that I was feeling so overwhelmed until a couple of months ago. I put a hole in one of my favourite wool sweaters. I am trying to practice simplicity. I don’t replace clothing right away. However, this sweater was my second to get a hole this winter. I was “allowed” to begin looking to replace it.

However, when I went online and started scrolling my local stores (what an odd way to shop local), I couldn’t commit to anything. My shoulders have become broader from lifting weights again, what size am I anyway? But moreover, I wondered if I could ever wear this sweater out. What is the point of purchasing something if I will never have the satisfaction of seeing it slowly wear and produce holes?

Fast forward a few weeks and I am driving to a small cabin to meet with a mentor for prayer. I was desperate. I couldn’t shake this feeling, “I am not enough”. I have heard that many people who start churches struggle with an imposter syndrome with this underlying fear that the organization will never fully take off and that it will be because of your inadequacies. Moreover, I felt this deep rooted impatience for things in my life to move more quickly as I was riddled with fear that maybe I don’t have a lot of time left here on this earth.

My time in that little cabin was extremely life-giving. As we prayed, my back slowly relaxed. I didn’t realize I had been carrying so much tension. My emotions were finally able to surface after being buried, though unintentionally, for months (it’s all I’ve ever known). I felt loved and seen even though I was broken.

During this prayer time, I received an image and an invitation. The picture was of a father carrying a child in his arms. The child’s head peacefully rested on the shoulder of his father, at calm and fully at peace. I realized that this image is my invitation for this season. What does it look like to get out of my head and not worry so much, planning, striving and trying to accomplish everything? What does it look like to accept that this season is filled with unknowns and that the invitation for me is to simply sit and be at rest in the arms of my loving father? 

As I drove away from the camp, I realized that many of us are feeling this way right now. We do not know what the future holds for us and we are anxiously trying to do our best to plan, be prepared and adapt to whatever gets thrown at us. I think the invitation for many of us is to allow God to scoop us up and let him carry us, even though we don’t know what the future holds.

As I go into my CT scan this week, I am trying to remind myself to be like a child. It is ok to be scared. It is ok to cry and admit that it is hard when so much feels uncertain. Hopefully I remember that it is ok to crawl into your father’s arms and ask him to carry you because you can’t see through the fog. Unfortunately, I’m not very good at that yet but I want to learn.

None of us know what the future holds but I am becoming increasingly certain of this one thing. There is a God who loves me and he’s way more powerful than me. I could try to do life on my own or I could just admit that I need help and experience the freedom that comes in surrender. As I enter into this next year, my hope is that I will remember to allow my dad to carry me whether it’s joyful or filled with sorrow, a year of rejoicing or of lament, or some kind of mixed bag of both.

Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. (Matt 11:28)

[danmarkreid]

Who said life would be easy?

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life? (Matthew 16:24-26)

As many of you know, 2016-2019 were incredibly difficult years for me and my family. I was diagnosed with cancer, underwent three surgeries in four years and had 30 rounds of radiation. It was an incredibly painful, life-altering and faith testing time.

Yet, through all the difficulties, pain and trials, Melody and I made it through. It was an experience of refinement and strengthening. We are thankful for the experiences we had and the lessons that we learned and the healing that took place deep within our hearts.

When I received the words in 2019 that a lump on my lung had mysteriously disappeared, I began to wrestle with the unbelief that perhaps God had healed me. It seemed that there was a dramatic shift taking place in the trajectory of my story. I was preparing for cancer to have the final word and suddenly there was hope that this story is not over yet.

Now that I have been healthy and have had a bit of a break from the regular fears of cancer, I assumed that life would feel so much easier in comparison. It felt so nice not to be living in crisis mode all the time. What I didn’t expect, was that the whole world was about to go into a crisis.

With 2020 brought the COVID-19 pandemic and though in my little corner of the world I have little to complain about, it has been difficult on everyone. At the same time, I have been given the opportunity from the Ontario Mennonite Brethren church to begin a faith community in Ottawa.

Starting a new work is always challenging, but I know it will be especially hard in a pandemic. It limits our ability to gather, to network, to meet neighbours and deepen relationships. The whole world is in a season of unrest, the future is filled with uncertainty and we are trying to cast out hope and vision for a community that will bring joy and peace and flourishing to our city.

This summer I have had to humbly reshape my expectations. This work will be good and I feel that strong sense of call, but it will not feel easy. It may be the hardest invitation yet.

It causes me to wonder, why do I always expect that there will be a season where I can kind of coast, put my feet up, and just become complacent.

I am struck that for some reason, deep down, I think I am entitled to comfort, security and self-indulgence. I really believe that if I have been faithful to God and done my best and loved him well that somehow I should get a season where I can curl up on a coach and do whatever I want. Like somehow I deserve it.

I am struck by the words of Jesus. To follow him means to deny yourself. To find our lives, it means we first need to lose them. Jesus never promises his followers security or comfort. He never promises a Netflix binge session where no one will bother us. The thing he does promise though is that he will be with us. He does promise that he will provide for us. And moreover, he does promise that we will not taste death, we will experience the fullness and beauty of the life that he has to offer us.

Jesus challenges Peter in the text. Peter is thinking about human things rather than the divine. I am afraid that I am guilty of that as well. My expectations and demands for a season without challenges really comes from my lack of understanding of what is good for me and how God is present in the world. 

As I reflect on these promises, it is my hope that I can grow to follow Jesus wherever he takes me, even if that is a road marked by suffering. At the end of the day, I believe he is faithful and that life with him is worth it. It is where the Good Life is truly found. It is the path of joy, peace and meaning. It is the path that leads to life.

[danmarkreid]

My Resilient, Little Succulent

“A bruised reed he will not break,

    and a dimly burning wick he will not quench;

    he will faithfully bring forth justice.” (Isaiah 42:1-4)

A few months ago, Melody commented to our housemate, Deirdre, how well she had done at reviving our little succulent. This statement came to me as a complete surprise. I had forgotten about this little plant and to be honest, knew that it had almost died but had not noticed how it had rebounded.

This little succulent is technically mine. It was a gift from a dear friend and mentee who gave it to me in the hospital four years ago. It came home with me on a difficult day in April 2016. Melody was headed off to Toronto, with newborn in tow, to say goodbye to her dying grandmother and I was a little beside myself from medications and facing insomnia and quite frankly, going a little loopy. 

This little plant sat perched in our dining room in our bright and sunny apartment on Fifth Avenue where it witnessed many community dinners, housemates come and go and saw us bring home two babies from the hospital.

We also moved. The succulent had to adjust to the dark, cool, shady environment of our new home. Well built and extremely quiet but with very little sunlight. 

Along the way, there have been some close calls. I have not cared for this plant very well. I never water it and it has survived upon the graces of my housemates regularly (or occasionally) coming along and giving it enough water to keep it alive.

Like me, this plant has been through a lot. Last summer, in an attempt to give the plant more sun, my housemate accidentally left it outside for days and gave it a sunburn. You can still see the scars where the plant was scorched. And yet, it continues on.

As we were sitting down to pray that night, I realized that I have a lot in common with this little plant that was gifted to me right at the beginning of my cancer journey. We’ve both been through a lot, we’ve both faced adversity that caused speculation that we were on our last legs, and yet, we continue on. But not only do we keep going, we’re doing well! This little plant may need a bigger pot soon. I’m not even sure how to do that, luckily Deirdre will take care of that!

It’s my hope that I’m thriving too. Time will tell. One thing I do know, both the succulent and I are covered in scars and a bit of an underdog but neither of us are out for the count yet. My little plant and I are both very dependent on others nurturing and caring for us. Neither can make it on our own. I don’t know if we are even capable of surviving the two of us. :)

Now every time I see this little plant I give thanks to God for helping me through these trials and continuing to help heal me and restore me. Hopefully this little beat up plant and I will have lots more adventures ahead of us.

So next time I need a weird conversation starter, I guess I will just talk about how I have a lot in common with a plant. :)

“So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)

[danmarkreid]

Not Overlooked

When the Egyptians oppressed and humiliated us by making us their slaves, we cried out to the Lord, the God of our ancestors. He heard our cries and saw our hardship, toil, and oppression. So the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a strong hand and powerful arm, with overwhelming terror, and with miraculous signs and wonders. (Deuteronomy 26:6-8)

I still remember the small field tucked beside the elementary school where my classmates and I played at recess - the uneven grass surface, the nearby play structure, and the large Canadian Tire parking lot on the other side of the mesh fence.

I had friends in elementary school and a fairly positive experience. Kids were relatively friendly and I regularly felt included and involved.

I remember my first football game. I was middle-school aged, a bit pudgy and incredibly insecure. I can still feel the leather in my hands, this foreign object that I prayed would not make me look like a fool. I was completely out of my comfort zone and everyone knew it.

One of the most intimidating experiences in some young men’s lives is the school yard pick. There we were, lining up against that fence. I was sucking in my gut, trying to look strong and athletic. Little Dan wasn’t a very good poser. I probably just stood there with a look of fear in my eyes!

I developed a way of life that was working for me. I was the nice kid in my class and was able to float through different social circles. People were nice to me. Kids liked having me around. I wasn’t really bullied. This persona was my saving grace. When it came to choosing teams, I was never picked last. No, that was reserved for whichever kid the in crowd was picking on. No, I was picked second or third last. Everyone knew I couldn’t throw and I could barely catch. I was a bit of a dead weight on the team, but everyone knew I wanted to play, to fit in and I would try my hardest.

It’s amazing how those kind of experiences can shape and define us. Somewhere along the way I learned how to survive in those environments. I rarely find myself as the best at anything that I put my effort to, whether that be academics, the high school band, selling jeans, mentoring students, preaching or advocating for affordable housing. However, people know I will show up, try my best and give it my all. In some ways, I kind of feel like I’ve become the kid on the team that is not really amazing at any position but can be thrown in to help you out wherever you need me. I have learned how to be somewhat successful in whatever situation I find myself in, especially through winning favour and respect from people.

Of course, cancer challenges many of our coping strategies, insecurities and areas of wounding that have previously lurked beneath the surface. The past few months have been particularly overwhelming, to say the least. As many of you are probably aware, in January of 2019 I had another CT scan. This scan was my first since a cancerous spot was removed in July 2018. I felt I needed a clear scan and did not have the wherewithal emotionally to face another round of surgery.

Unfortunately, I did not receive a clean bill of health. A small lesion was found on my left lung. The doctors’ advised that I had to have a small surgery to remove the spot. Based on a reexamination of my fall scans, the radiologist was afraid that the lump had been growing for quite some time and was actually potentially already starting to form before.

On February 20, I entered the Ottawa General and headed to the surgery unit. The whole experience felt like deja vu. This surgery was my third in only three years. I was preparing for the worst case scenario. I didn’t know if I was going to have a season of full health and vitality ever again.

Nothing that day went as expected. The surgery was much longer than expected. I woke up with more tubes, more pain and a longer recovery than anyone had anticipated. The most surprising of all was that my doctors could not find the lump that they had seen on my scan. Bewildered, the surgeon called in additional help and expertise, searching and methodically scanning for any sign of cancer or irregularity.

This experience where my doctors were clearly unsure was quite surreal. I was honestly quite upset about the news at first. It was difficult to keep track of the narrative and to understand what was happening as I was on a lot of medication and fresh out of surgery. There are not a lot of great explanations. It appears I had a lump and then I did not. It seems unlikely that the doctors misread the CT, it seems unlikely that they missed the lesion during surgery and the pathology shows that there are no signs of cancer in my lungs in that area (as well as anything else irregular).

Melody and I have been overcome with gratitude for the good news. It is not what I expected and has challenged me greatly in every way. Like walking in to a surprise birthday party, I have been showered with love, good gifts and thanksgiving.

Remember I started this post by describing the kid who never got picked first? I perceive it has created this dynamic in me where I always feel pressure to prove myself and succeed at whatever I do. I long for the affirmation of others and want to feel seen, included and praised.

As I have processed this question about what happened, I realize that I never expected to find out that there was no cancer this time around. I had resolved myself to fight through this bump in the road as best as I could and was preparing for the worst. If cancer was going to take me down, I was going to be the best and most faithful cancer patient that I could be.

Upon the news, I was overcome with emotion. In prayer, I had the sense that God was reminding me of the little boy - insecure, in over his head, giving it his best but not really good enough to compete at the level he needed to. In the midst of that, like a giant hand pulling me out the deep end of a wave pool, or a plane starting to circle over my frail attempts to wave for help, came a sense of rescue. God saw the little boy. In the line of all the kids on the playground fence that day, I had a sense of God picking me first. He saw my hardship, he saw my pain, he saw the way that I was in over my head and I was not alone. For some reason, Jesus was picking that little boy to be on His team and wanted him to know that he was loved.

I don’t feel I can adequately explain how significant this experience has been for me. Lots of people have said that they feel there is still some kind of beautiful grand purpose for my life or work that is left for me. That is probably true. For me though, what I know is that the little boy just needed to know that he was chosen and that he was special. I have a daddy that wants me to know love, in every fibre of my being. I have no idea what is next and when or if I will face cancer again. What I do know is that no matter what happens, I will can remember the deep security and peace that I feel in this moment. The picture of the little boy who is seen, desired, and chosen. To know I am loved, not for what I can do or how I can contribute but just because I have a daddy who cares for me is the greatest gift I could be given. 

Thank you to the countless people who have been trying to help me know my value and worth for years. Some of us needs miracles to get truth into our head. Thanks for walking with us.

Praise the Lord!

How joyful are those who fear the Lord

   and delight in obeying his commands...

Such people will not be overcome by evil.

   Those who are righteous will be long remembered.

They do not fear bad news;

   they confidently trust the Lord to care for them.

They are confident and fearless

   and can face their foes triumphantly. (Psalm 112:1, 7-8)

[danmarkreid]

When There Are No Simple Explanations...

“But I know this: I was blind, and now I can see!” (John 9:25b)

Do you believe in miracles? Do you accept that sometimes there are no answers or simple explanations for what has happened? If you asked me a couple of months ago, I would have emphatically said YES!

The last 6 weeks, my need to understand has been tested. It wasn’t until I faced a situation with no easy answers that I realized how much I intellectualize things or rely on explanations to understand my experience and this world. I’ve realized how little “faith” I truly have.

The last month has been a whirlwind. On February 20 I had surgery to remove a 1 cm lesion on my left lung. The lesion had appeared in a CT scan in January.

The lead up surgery was emotional. Only six months had passed since a cancerous tumour was removed from my lung in July. To have another spot appear so closely in time caused me to deeply question whether or not the cancer was progressing at a much quicker pace. To be honest, I was preparing for a slippery slope of losing my health.

Post-surgery, waking up to a surgeon with no clear answers was a difficult experience. It had not gone as planned, the doctors could not find the lesion and the surgery was much more invasive than planned. In order to be thorough, the surgeon opened me up and called in another senior surgeon to assist him. Instead of three small incisions, I have a big one, large enough for the surgeons to stick their hands in and feel my lung. They searched and searched and yet, found nothing.

I was, and potentially still am, shocked. How does a spot, affirmed by several doctors, simply disappear? I have heard some explanations but it is clear that they are still hypotheses. No one knows truly what happened. All I know, is the scan showed a lump and then it was gone.

Having a more invasive surgery than planned sucks. The pain, the recovery, the disappointment, the lack of clarity. And yet, there is hope swelling up inside me. Somehow I seem to be healing very quickly, I have energy for my kids and am starting to have energy for my friends, and I am coping extremely well. The hard work we have done in our marriage and in therapy is slowly paying off. Confession and honesty are still hard and I feel there’s more work to be done but God has been faithful. I don’t undervalue the hundreds of people praying for us!

Tomorrow I see my surgeon. I will get some answers. Was there any cancer in the tissues that my surgeon removed? Will I need any radiation? However, I expect there are some questions that can’t get answered. When am I going to die? Will the cancer return? What exactly happened?

I am realizing I have a lot of growing to do. As someone who has a relationship with Christ and says that he believes the stories that happened in the gospels continue to play out today, do I believe that Jesus continues to reveal himself through miracles? Luckily, I believe God loves recovering skeptics and doubters. Luckily, He doesn’t expect perfection but desperate reliance. Whether I find out that I had cancer again or if there is no clear explanation, I know my faith is not conditional on a God who eradicates my suffering. As much as ever, I am aware of my dependance on a higher power and a community that loves me. I cannot get through this crazy health journey alone.

We are praying that tomorrow brings good news. Will you pray with us (even if you are not a spiritual person)? We are asking for test results that show no signs of cancer. Pray that we would have peace when we do not fully understand what is happening. We are also praying that no matter what, we would know that we are not alone and that we are loved and supported.

Thank you for walking with us. We have such amazing cheerleaders surrounding us. It means the world to know that there are so many people that care about us. Thank you for listening, encouraging and speaking truth in the moments of confusion or mystery. I can’t express how important it is to know I am not alone.

“Human reason unaided by God’s revelation will never give us the whole picture.” - Timothy and Kathy Keller

[danmarkreid]

Standing Firm

So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and at the right time he will lift you up in honor. Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you. Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour. Stand firm against him, and be strong in your faith. Remember that your family of believers all over the world is going through the same kind of suffering you are. In his kindness God called you to share in his eternal glory by means of Christ Jesus. So after you have suffered a little while, he will restore, support, and strengthen you, and he will place you on a firm foundation. All power to him forever! Amen. (1 Peter 5:6-11)

I’ve wanted to write this blog post for months. For some reason, it never made it to the top of the priority list. Do you ever have those moments where you realize how deeply you need to process something because you feel like you are about to crash and burn, flailing and potentially nose-diving off a cliff?

For awhile now, I have been feeling this invitation to learn about what it means to stand firm. In the face of extreme fear, uncertainty, worry and lack of control, my foundation feels less firm and more shaky than I would like. When faith is tested, anxiety can surface and overtake me, overwhelming me and overshadowing everything.

It is also hard to engage suffering. At the end of the day, I would rather life just be easy. It is intimidating to stare down life’s challenge and face them with courage and bravery. To not search for an easy route or to simply just choose escapism. To pick up the phone and reach out when I am weak, instead of trying to face it on my own. To stop and pray, rather than scanning Instagram. I realize how much maturity it takes to lean into things that are difficult and to address them head on. For me, the fear of cancer and losing my life as I know it, terrorizes me. I have successfully faced cancer twice and overcome, but I really do not want to engage in that pain again. Especially in the next few months. Therefore, every time I am due for scans of my lungs, fear seems to overtake me.

As I prepare for 2019, I know that the call to stand firm is central. I begin the year with a CT of my lungs on January 3. The new year will either begin with a celebration of a clean test with no new signs of cancer or with devastation. I did not expect how difficult this round of tests would feel after my brush with cancer this summer. The past few nights I have increasingly had nightmares related to cancer.

Either way, the call to remain steady and faithful remains. When fear and unpredictability flood my senses, how do I put my trust in the one who made the very cells in my body? Can I trust that the God who has consistently provided for my family will continue to be reliable in the future? Do I trust that though life feels uncertain, there is a God who knows every detail and fabric of my own life, including every thought, emotion and cell?

Additionally, I have an increasing awareness that there is an attack on my life and my identity. Regardless of how much I try to put my trust in God and live out this cancer journey perfectly, I fail. A big part of that is my own brokenness and own personal decisions to rebel against God and do this battle on my own. But, that being said, I am also realizing that truly there is an evil one that seeks to isolate me, discourage me and bring about fear. Furthermore, there are temptations to distract myself, disengage with others or become despondent. In the face of adversity, instead of letting my guard down, there is an increased need to fight, stand firm and invite people around us to lift us up and help carry us to Jesus.

My hope is that in 2019, no matter what happens, that I can more truly live out my true identity. I know that God has said that I am a warrior and that I have what it takes to face whatever comes at me with his strength. I know that I am loved, treasured and valued by many and, most importantly, by a Father who empowers me and equips me.

I don’t know what you are facing as this year comes to an end and a new one approaches, but I do know that the invitation to stand firm rings true for all of us. There is a loving Father who desperately wants to speak to us about who we are and how he sees us. That is, if we allow his voice to get any air space among all the different noises vying for our attention. I do believe, that if we allow ourselves to hear that affirmation from God, it will be tested. Life is hard and challenging. There is evil in the world that seeks to tear us down and destroy us. My hope is that this year, along with me, that you would learn to cling to what is true and allow it to be your foundation.

Be on guard. Stand firm in the faith. Be courageous. Be strong. And do everything with love. (1 Corinthians 16:13-14)

[danmarkreid]

Living by Faith

But Jesus overheard them and said to Jairus, “Don’t be afraid. Just have faith.” (Mark 5:36)

To some extent, all of us live by faith. Whether we are putting our trust in our investments, a partner, a business plan or a new diet; all of us, rely on things in a world where we have little control. In small ways or in critically large ways, we all put trust in things for a sense of security or out of necessity. Often, we do not realize that we have done it or are even aware of what we have put our trust in. It is often in those moments where those things have failed us that we realize we have relied on them.

In many ways, Melody and I are moving more and more into the unknown. We are needing to trust more than ever before. As I recover from surgery, we are grateful to be through this round of cancer treatment and look ahead to what may lie ahead. As we do that, we are less certain than ever what the future may hold.

It is difficult to make plans. We have no certainty regarding my health. We cannot know if my cancer will return in a manner of months or if it will be years. Doctors speculate but have been clear that they have no idea what might happen and how long we have until the cancer may come back. In many ways, our family needs to seize each moment, reach for big goals, seek to maximize our impact, and invest deeply into relationships. We do this while being humbly aware that at any point we may be facing a cancer diagnosis again and ensuring that we have spent quality time with each other and the kids.

Even though each time I receive a CT scan we face the hard reality that my cancer may have returned, I do not want us to live our lives paralyzed by fear. We press ahead, not knowing what is next. We become cognizant, again, of the topic of trust and where we are putting our security. We try to be faithful to the lifestyle and values that we feel God has invited us to pursue and need to help each other believe that He will be good to us. So far we have consistently been taken care of. Why doubt that this experience may be change in the future?!

Throughout this experience, I realize that I really value risk and not just choosing safety and security. Somewhere along the way, the message that Jesus leads us out of complacency and into a grand adventure has gone deep into the very fibre of my bones. I am not looking to settle, go into cruise control and watch the days go by. As we look to the road ahead, I continue to orient my life to decision making that causes me to rely on a higher power to help me, that forces me to engage with my own weakness, and stretches me. Like a skydiver relying on the past successes of her parachute reliably guiding her to safety that empowers her to boldly jump from the plane again and again; my past experiences of venturing into the unknown have caused me to believe that taking risks and living in a manner where we need God to show up and meet us is essential for my spiritual growth. Through this season of prolonged suffering, I am increasingly aware of my finite nature and my utter dependence on God in even the smallest things.

In summary, I believe risk can help deepen one’s faith. Stepping out and risking creates opportunity for learning, even if that means failure. However, when taking a chance goes well, it brings joy. Furthermore, when we see God meet us in our need in some beautiful and profound way, it provides a tangible experience we can rely on in times of doubt. As our faith grows, it can encourage us to say yes to the next set of risks, that is as long as we do not give in to the temptation to just check out or grab a bag of chips and watch Netflix until our brain turns to mush!

As I face my mortality and my fears again in this season, I am more determined than ever to live a life where faith is required and risk is the norm. As we discern next steps in terms of my employment, fear says that I should choose something safe, secure and stable. Fear says that I should only plan short-term and shy away from investing in new relationships. Fear says that I should travel the world and live selfishly, accumulating experiences for myself that somehow I deserve or am entitled to (though I am not opposed to making some phenomenal memories with Melody and the boys). As I consider all these things, the option of starting a faith community in the downtown of Ottawa continues to resonate. In lots of ways, I do not know if it is wise to start a new thing but I do know that we would need God desperately and that it could bring joy. At the end of the day, I am not in control. I have no way of knowing the future or what may happen. I have little ability (besides eating healthily and exercising) to save my own life or extend my time on earth. I can however, trust in one greater than myself to lead me and guide me. As I do that I trust that if his character is truly good and full of love, that I and the ones I love will be okay. Hopefully Jesus’ teaching is true when he says that a little faith can move mountains.

As you read, do you agree? Do we all put our faith in something? Is it wise, responsible or healthy to consciously choose to orient your life where you need the very thing that you are trusting to be true or you would end up on your face? I feel that as one who has chosen to follow Jesus, there is no other option. If God is not who he said he is, I am screwed. I may as well keep implementing his words and teachings, discovering if it is true. He has not let me down yet! What have you put your faith in?

Thank you to all of those who have supported us so beautifully in this last season. Melody and I have felt incredibly loved and above all else, we know we are not alone. Thank you for the food, the cards, the gifts, the cash, the visits and the encouragement. We are blessed beyond belief.

“One of life’s difficult assignments is living with uncertainty. To leave the future in God’s hands without demanding a detailed road map requires unusual trust. I believe “faith” involves making a decision to trust God and place my future in his hand. It’s acceptance of not knowing, of not being certain of everything but of being absolutely confident of him. Doubts can exist, but they don’t affect the decision to trust; they only affect my emotional capability to FEEL confident all the time.” (Everyday Strength, Randy Becton)

[danmarkreid]

Counting Blessings

We looked like any average family. Melody and I out for dinner with our two boys and my parents. My parents were here for the weekend. They came for Easter, but they also wanted to get more cuddles before Elliott grows out of the cherished newborn stage.

We came out of the surprisingly cold April air and huddled into the restaurant. I was, at that time, unaware of the significance of the gathering that was taking place. We had chose a little pizza joint, not your typical choice for Easter dinner, but easy with kids.

It was not our first time. Two years ago, on the first Sunday of April our family visited that restaurant. Marcus was only 5.5 months. It was our first time going to the restaurant and we were looking to celebrate, prepare, grieve and create memories.

In April 2016, I was about to go through one of the most impactful experiences of my life, surgery for my cancerous lump. My parents had come, to support, to go through their own experience and help in whatever way possible.

Now two years later, re-entering that restaurant, I realized there was much to celebrate and to be thankful for. The last two years were pretty hard and there are many things that we feel we have lost. Yet, as I sit in the restaurant I am reminded of some of the things that matter most. I am surrounded by my two incredible sons, my wife who has faithfully stood by me the whole way and my parents who did the best they knew how to support us.

It causes me to reflect on the fact that this year my anniversary of my cancer treatment comes at the same time as Easter. This correlation feels profoundly significant. Easter, in the church calendar, is the time that we reflect on the fact that we believe that Christ has conquered death and that all pain, suffering, injustice and sin have been defeated through his death and resurrection. As we wait for the promise of Spring, I also wait for the promise of new life. It’s a promise that is not just about a future reality after I die but one that begins to take root and happen even now as I am grounded in Christ.

As we began 2018, I felt a sense that this year would be a year of new life, joy, hope and peace. As Easter breaks through, I am feeling extreme gratitude as I can see these things begin to emerge in my life and heart. That does not mean I am never anxious, fearful or filled with angst. Those emotions are still a bit more regular than I would like. However, I do feel an awareness this year of the beautiful promise of power. That same power that raised Jesus from the dead resides in all those who have acknowledged him. The power that can turn this broken man into one that knows the beauty of the world around him and is willing to sacrifice for truth, love and justice. Power that enables one lose their life for love, because in doing so, you find the best life you could ever have.

I’m not sure what emotions flooded your senses this Easter. It was pretty cold in my little corner of the universe but our hearts were warm. Whatever your experience was, my hope is that you would also experience the power of Easter in your own heart and life. The power that can take dead things and bring them back to life. The power that turns despair into hope-filled purpose, pain into joy, threatened hopes into magnificent dreams.

It is true that I have not made it through these past two years without some significant scars, both physically and emotionally. I have also gained some great healing as well. I hope that I am somehow being molded more and more into the image of Christ as I try to navigate this bumpy, narrow path. I am thankful for each day and all those that I have been fortunate enough to love.

Happy Easter to all of you. May you see dead things in your world come back to life as well. May there be connection where there was loneliness, progress where there was only a sense of feeling stuck. I believe that in Christ’s resurrection all these things and more are available to us.

Thank you for walking with us on this journey. In many ways it feels I came close to death and have come back to life again. In this process of rebirth I am grateful for all that I learned and experienced and all those who have walked with us. Lots of love.

I pray that your hearts will be flooded with light so that you can understand the confident hope he has given to those he called—his holy people who are his rich and glorious inheritance. I also pray that you will understand the incredible greatness of God’s power for us who believe him. This is the same mighty power that raised Christ from the dead and seated him in the place of honor at God’s right hand in the heavenly realms. (Ephesians 1:18-20)

[danmarkreid]

Vulnerability: Giving Up Control, Discovering Freedom

One cannot be vulnerable without first giving up control. As long as we decide what people hear, who they see, what they know; we are not fully vulnerable. Unfortunately that means we are cannot be fully known without relinquishing control first.

Vulnerability requires revealing our weakness. Exposing our fears and our faults. It’s not easy or natural. Our predisposition is to cover up, to hide, to pretend, to perform. We’ll show the world, look what I can do! I’m somebody, I’m worth something, I can do impressive stuff! It’s hard to stand their naked, allowing people to see us for who we truly are. To fully let go of posing and just stand there and say, here I am. Ask me questions, hear my story, watch me live. I’m not arguing that we should overshare with the whole world, but hopefully there is that circle, that trusted group of comrades who know you deeply and intimately.

Most of settle for posing. We try on different masks, find one that seems to fit us well. We become known as the funny one, the pretty one, the smart one, the competent one, the active one. Attributes of ourselves that are liked, affirmed or respected become the person that we fight to present to the world. We nourish it and polish it as we hide our insecurities and fears.

The problem with posing is that we do not become known. We think people know us but if we only ever share half the truth, the part of the story that makes us look honourable, the narrative that puts us in a positive light, then the people around us never truly fully know us. The downside is that it usually catches up with us. We get found out as a poser. People see through the act. Trust is lost, weaknesses are exposed, it become exhausting to always have to control your reputation.

In addition, when we control our image, we are never free. We never allow people into our weaknesses, into our fears, into our doubts and into our sins. We stay in bondage, trapped by our character defects, in an unending cycle with a wake of destruction behind us.

Today marks the two year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. What a crazy two years it’s been! As I reflect on what I have learned in the past two years, one of the dominant themes would definitely be learning about weakness and how embracing our weaknesses can actually become our strength. In the wake of potentially losing everything, Melody and I have continually chosen to risk. We have risked emotionally, processing deeply through hurts and past wounds. We are risking with our family, choosing to have a second baby when my health will always be uncertain. We have risked financially when I chose to leave my job and pursue something else.

Andy Crouch writes, “The vulnerability that leads to flourishing requires risk, which is the possibility of loss- the chance that when we act, we will lose something of value.”

As I reflect, I am amazed by how this exposure of my frailty and mortality, has brought so much healing, freedom and new sense of life. In losing all control, in becoming almost completely helpless, in losing much of my energy and strength I have learned a new strength that propels me into this next season.

I have discovered a freedom that comes with a willingness to be vulnerable. An ability to step out and risk and feel free to fail. A desire to experience the fullness that life has to offer and not settle for less.

This freedom continues to be challenged though. It is amazing how deeply I desire stability. Questions about where I will work and where we will live bring anxiety that slowly creeps in. It slowly overtakes my heart and soul, like a strong tide seeking to pull me under, slowly overtaking every piece of me. And then, as fear almost overcomes me, God in His faithfulness, breaks through. Like a strong lifeguard diving into the water, like a flash of light breaking into the darkness, He comes and reminds me of who I am and whose I am. I hear words that bring clarity, direction and peace.

The other night I had one of those moments. We sat, in a small circle, seeking what next steps may be for Melody and I as we discern where we should live and what I should do. People shared what they had heard or felt as we prayed. Words of life escaped people’s lips. Encouragements, images, scriptures, affirmations and warnings. My soul felt like a tired marathon runner grabbing a refreshing drink of water, feeling more ready to continue on the race, feeling more confident that I may be able to finish.

As people shared their reflections, one close friend’s words hit a chord with my soul. “I think that in this season, your desire for stability is actually limiting your ability to experience freedom. Like leather harnesses, your desire to know the exact details of your life are limiting your ability to experience what God has for you. He wants you to experience a freedom that comes from dependence on him and trusting his voice. You desire both freedom and stability, but I am not sure you can have both.”

The words have stayed with me. They have rattled in my brain. This life of vulnerability, this life of letting go of control, this life of discovering flourishing, has come with a lot of instability and uncertainty. It comes with a lot of risk. I think I am discovering that I would much rather live a life that is filled with adventure and that I can truly say I have lived to the fullest than to lose it all and feel like I did not experience anything at all.

I am grateful that in these two years since my diagnosis I have learned to embrace weakness. I have learned to risk. In many ways, the threat of life prematurely coming to an end has allowed for it to more deeply evolve.

I hope that I can continue to choose the path of vulnerability in these years to come. The path of not trusting in stability or earthly security but instead, risking all for the sake of love. Through these acts, we hope that a life of flourishing will fully be lived.

Thanks for reading and cheering for us along the way. We’ll send an update when baby #2 arrives. It will be soon!

So if you are suffering in a manner that pleases God, keep on doing what is right, and trust your lives to the God who created you, for he will never fail you. (1 Peter 4:19)

[danmarkreid]

Discovering Stability in Chaos

“Whatever happens, my dear brothers and sisters, rejoice in the Lord. I never get tired of telling you these things, and I do it to safeguard your faith.” (Philippians 3:1)

“I feel like nothing in my life is stable right now, that is except for my faith, marriage and key friendships.”

These words escaped from my lips recently on a Sunday evening. A group had collected, huddled around pieces of paper with the words “The Gospel According to Mark” etched across the top. We were engaging our minds and our hearts. Individuals were sharing their reflections and what it would mean if they truly acknowledge Jesus as king of their lives.

In a moment of confession, I bumbled out the above words. A weight began to lift off my shoulders but there was still fear and doubt lingering underneath. How do I find meaning in this crazy journey that I am on? Would the God who I had given my life and trust to be faithful? Would I end up alone? Would I end up as a failure? My mind said no, but my heart was not so sure.

As those following along know, it has been a crazy two years. I am only four weeks away from my two year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. In the course of this time I’ve had a son, had surgery, gone through radiation, gone back to work, seen my community implode and left my job. Now I am trying to figure out what to do with my life while in the background, preparing for a second child, and needing to make some major decisions around where we will live. I would never encourage someone to undergo so much transition at once, and yet, a lot of the change is out of my control. In many ways, it has been a prolonged season of loss and stress. Things are constantly being stripped away, bringing pain and grief.

During my sickness I read through Philippians. I desired to get an opportunity to study it in community to help reinforce the themes that I had learned. That opportunity came at the beginning of January of this new year. It is amazing how scripture can speak to you right where you are at in such profound ways. The words leapt off the page again.

In the book, Paul describes his spiritual resume and why, for many reasons, he should be one of the most righteous people. He has done everything right and been placed in the right place at the right time. What is shocking for the audience is when he says, “Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ.” (Philippians 3:8).

Paul has learned the example from his saviour who “Though he was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.” (Phil 2:6-8)

It is a season where things are being stripped away: facing my mortality, leaving an unhealthy workplace, and facing uncertainty about the future. In light of these things, there has been a lot of loss and a refining of who I am and my identity.

Paul writes with great certainty that nothing he could aspire to or achieve is greater than the privilege of knowing his God and suffering for him. As I reflect, I realize how far I still am from that point. I want to be perceived as successful in my career and known as a great pastor, teacher and leader. To lose everything to gain Christ, and only Christ, sounds attractive in a Bible study as an ideal but it gets contested the moment it ends. There is a battle for my soul and many days I am tempted to believe that I will end up alone or overlooked or with nothing to my name (as if the point were to build the kingdom of Dan in the first place). You can see how it unravels and underneath there is a vulnerable, scared, selfish and somewhat conceited man that I have to face in the mirror.

Could it be that the greatest call is to truly be content to lose it all and in the end only have Christ? That someone is actually searching for Christ all along when he or she pursues other narratives or things, unaware that He fulfills whatever need we are struggling to appease?

And yet, in my moment of weakness and confession, feeling like I am losing it all with nothing stable, a close friend offered wisdom. He remarked, “Isn’t odd that the only things you state that you feel you have that are stable (faith, marriage, close friends) are the very things that so many in society are actually deeply longing for?”

A strong, unwavering faith and worldview that grounds me and carries me through suffering and pain, providing meaning, purpose and hope at every step of the way. Steady relationships that provide support, nourishment, encouragement and loving truth. People that know my heart deeply and reflect back to me what they see, the good and the nasty. People that have not abandoned me or coiled back, even when I was at my lowest.

His words struck me and challenged me. In many ways I was gaining the very things I had always longed for, prayed for and strived for. Still, in the face of adversity there are still so many cracks in this broken down vessel that is me. More refining to be done, more purification needed, way more humility and selflessness to be birthed.

Two years of pain and suffering have been a great gift to me in so many ways. I think because it continually drives me to my knees. I am still amazed by how insecure I am in my gifts, in my passions, in my own beauty as a person. I am learning how much I need God and others. I am thankful that through the difficulties I am learning how to submit to Christ and die to my own desires. Hopefully Christ can teach me to empty myself like He embodied when He came to earth. One thing is certain, I am far from the point of being exalted, and that is undeniably best for everyone.

These revelations bring joy and gratitude. I am thankful for my marriage, for my health, for my friends, for those I get to walk with. It is crazy to think about how well I have recovered from my cancer journey physically. In addition, I am grateful for a chance to rethink church, career, where we will live and how we will approach it, even it it keeps me up at night and reveals how little I trust God. I am thankful for an opportunity to expand our family and learn to love another child, because Marcus has been such a gift and I treasure my time with him.

I think I’m learning how letting go and loss can actually create a gateway for joy and celebration. It’s still counterintuitive but so are most things in the Christian faith! Hopefully if I can let go of my own needs for affirmation and glory, I will understand more deeply Christ’s costly love for me and continue to be changed by it.

Here’s to 2018. A year of uncertainty, endings in some places and beginnings in others. May I have a better sense of how Jesus gives us his peace by the end of it. Hopefully I can continue to let go of some things and centre my life around the things that really matter. Thanks for reading and hopefully a new year brings you a sense of meaning and hope as well. Here’s to health, friendships, new life and learning through hard times.

“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)

[danmarkreid]

Sturdy Like an Oak

Happy are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or take the path that sinners tread, or sit in the seat of scoffers; but their delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law they meditate day and night. They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither. In all that they do, they prosper. (Psalm 1:1-3)

Hope is a powerful tool. When we look at the world and see that it is not currently all that it should be, hope is critical. It can rescue someone, especially survivors, from despair or defeat. Hope can create movement, helping birth change and newness. Hope is essential for leaders to embody and use to inspire others. In this season, I am clinging to some promises, allowing them to fuel hope deep within.

Kouzes and Posner write in their book Credibility, “Just like survivors of serious injury and illness, credible leaders accept the diagnosis, but they do not accept defeat; they do not become consumed by self-pity and grief. They regroup, reassess, and prepare to go forward. Leaders inspire others by sharing their determination to beat the odds.” (p. 58)

On the surface, my life right now probably would look pretty typical of any 33 year old guy. I am balancing work, relationships, hobbies and exercise. I am actively pursuing goals, working hard and spending time with those I love.

The only difference is that I am aware that these activities do not feel insignificant to me. I stop and compare my life to what it was a year ago and I am amazed. In many ways, this life was the one that I was longing for.

Just recently, I had the pleasure of participating in my first bike camping trip. We loaded our bikes up with gear and set off on a journey along the beautiful Rideau River. We biked 135 kms across two days and I loved it. My body kept up and was able to handle the demands I placed on it. My soul was nourished, replenished and strengthened. I enjoyed good food, good company and that awesome feeling when your body aches in all the right ways. It was great to be able to accomplish something like that. A year ago, a 5 km bike ride felt like such a big deal.

In addition, I’m starting to have energy to do my job again. I’m realizing how emotionally demanding it can be. It takes a lot of stamina and health to carry the weight of caring for a group of people and leading a community of faith. Slowly my capacity is growing.

Most importantly, my soul is healing. After months of pain and sorrow, I feel I am healing from the trauma of my cancer journey. Through finishing psychotherapy with Melody and telling our story to friends and family, I can sense quite a bit of healing that has come and actually prayers that have been answered that I prayed years ago. Hope is brewing deep within me as I start dreaming again.

During our time in therapy, I received a couple of images that have helped carry me into this new season. One was of a strong warrior and the other of a large tree by a river.

An image of a warrior is intriguing because I am not an advocate of violence. I tend to shy away from war images and seek to promote peace. In this case, the warrior was helpful because it reflected back to me a person of strength, great courage and an ability to stand firm in the face of hardship. These are all characteristics that I lacked in moments of my cancer journey. I feel that God is helping me grow right in the very places where I need it the most.

Alternatively, the of a tree is like a promise. In this next season, my invitation above all else, is to cling to God’s word. I believe that through studying and living out scripture, He will strengthen me and help me become tenacious. The image of a strong oak next to the river, producing fruit, serves as a promise of who I am becoming and who I will be in the future.

In those moments that feel incredibly “normal”, I remember where I have come from and the beautiful promises of life that are on the other side. New life is starting to blossom and I have a sense that I haven’t seen nothing yet. Like a small blossom just starting to appear, hope is growing and I am positive about the future. I am so thankful for this new sense of strength and conviction. I foresee that though there will be significant challenges in this next season, something beautiful is growing, one day bursting forth producing life and joy. Thanks for cheering and supporting along the way as I experience life to the fullest again!

The spirit of the Lord God is upon me,

   because the Lord has anointed me;

he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,

   to bind up the brokenhearted,

to proclaim liberty to the captives,

   and release to the prisoners;

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor,

   and the day of vengeance of our God;

   to comfort all who mourn;

to provide for those who mourn in Zion—

   to give them a garland instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness instead of mourning,

   the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.

They will be called oaks of righteousness,

   the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.

They shall build up the ancient ruins,

   they shall raise up the former devastations;

they shall repair the ruined cities,

   the devastations of many generations. (Isaiah 61:1-4)

[danmarkreid]

Transformation Doesn’t Happen Overnight

He also said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.” (Mark 4:26-29)

Sometimes growth feels incredibly slow. The soul aches for a different reality, imagining it with the mind’s eye and shooting for it with all of one’s ambitions. However, no matter how hard one’s efforts or how big one’s dreams, transformation rarely takes place overnight. Instead, growth seems to be more like seed planted into the soul. It’s easy to miss the transformation that is taking place, yet one day this seed produces a beautiful plant and moreover, fruit comes, reproducing itself and spreading itself throughout. 

Recovering from cancer treatments feels a lot like the slow growth of agriculture. Each day I awoke hoping to suddenly feel normal again but unfortunately, that’s not the case. There are ups and downs, a feeling of taking two steps forward and one step back, slow progress as the body recovers and literally and figuratively, gets its two feet moving again. Yet, when I take a step back and look at my life in three, six, or nine month intervals, the transformation is remarkable; like the development of a child. Especially when I know that the change was outside of my control.

More than just experiencing an increase in energy levels, I am noticing deeper and more significant changes that are taking place within my heart and soul. I sense a new level of conviction, purpose, intentionality and self-control arising from deep within. Though I would not wish my journey on anyone, I can see how it has been for my good. My relationship with God, Melody, and Marcus have deepened and in many ways I have greater clarity about my priorities and how I order my days.

There are lots of moments where I wonder what this journey is for. Could all the suffering be for nothing? And then like little shoots coming out of the ground, I see new opportunities and signs of life appearing around me. Whether it’s new relationships, philanthropy opportunities for cancer research and services, or ministry opportunities, I’m starting to see how God can use this opportunity for my good and for the sake of His Kingdom.

Two weeks ago, I had the opportunity to share some of my story at the Ottawa Regional Cancer Foundation to thank BMO for a generous donation to the centre. Speaking at a corporate event is something that I never imagined I would do, but it was such a blessing to share what a positive impact these funds can have for patients and their families. My sense is that this experience is only the beginning. If I choose to continue to engage in the pain of this experience and grow from it, that there will be many more opportunities to share with others the things that I have learned.

Though the fear of cancer still remains in the background, I can say that I can see signs of new life all around. New energy, new capacity for dreaming, a resurfacing of different passions and new opportunities. Perhaps this was how change in my life came all along, God’s Kingdom slowly in-breaking into my life, tilling the soil of my heart, pushing its way deep into my soul and bringing true change that would one day shine outward as a light to others. Unfortunately, sometimes it takes those moments where we are flat on our face, helpless and aware of our need that remind us of the work that is happening within, and that we are not in control. My hope is that now that I am feeling better, I will not forget the lessons that I have learned along the way, continually looking for the signs of how God’s Kingdom work is breaking through in my life, making me a little bit more dependant, a little bit more humble, a little bit more aware of God’s movement in the world around me.

The passage below is an odd one to end with but struck me when I heard it on my prayer app last weekend. My hope is to not forget how God has come and rescued me in this season; both my body and my soul, and I hope to continue to live life to the full with Him. May I trust the slow work of His Kingdom renewing, transforming and redeeming all the different parts of me, a process that is only visible when you step back and look for the signs of life, like small buds preparing to bloom.

Remember the long way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, in order to humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep his commandments. He humbled you by letting you hunger, then by feeding you with manna, with which neither you nor your ancestors were acquainted, in order to make you understand that one does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord… then do not exalt yourself, forgetting the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery, who led you through the great and terrible wilderness, an arid wasteland with poisonous snakes and scorpions. He made water flow for you from flint rock, and fed you in the wilderness with manna that your ancestors did not know, to humble you and to test you, and in the end to do you good. (Deuteronomy 8:2-3;14-16)

[danmarkreid]

Square Peg in a Round Hole

...who would patch old clothing with new cloth? For the new patch would shrink and rip away from the old cloth, leaving an even bigger tear than before. And no one puts new wine into old wineskins. For the wine would burst the wineskins, and the wine and the skins would both be lost. New wine calls for new wineskins. (Mark 2:21-22)

This saying is a bit obscure, especially taken out of context. Jesus was challenging people about their assumptions, preconceived notions and religious systems. Some people were so stuck that Jesus simply didn’t fit their expectations. Therefore, he encourages an openness to discover his true identity and characteristics.

Lately, these words have been stirring in the back of my mind. Like new fabric that pulls away from an old garment when shrunk. Like new wine that bursts the old wineskin because it doesn’t have room to grow, age and stretch. Maybe I’m feeling a bit like square peg in a round hole these days.

As I slowly integrate back into my world post-cancer, I realize the new me doesn’t simply easily fit into my old world. It’s hard to articulate how this experience has changed me. I can only imagine that others who have endured cancer might identify with this challenge. I search for words to describe the feelings, but often, all I know is that I feel different. For months I pulled back, secluding myself from the world around me and watching the world go by, simply napping the days away. Now I am somehow trying to reinsert myself into that world that I left but unsure what that looks like.

I had some unrealistic expectations while I was sick. I envisioned myself reading lots of great books and discovering new music. I thought I would catch up on some things that I hadn’t been able to pay much attention to with a newborn baby and a full time job. Interestingly enough, I was amazed by how small my world became at the height of my sickness. Engaging with culture, even the parts that I enjoy, required a level of effort and work that I did not have. Cancer became my full-time job and in many ways, the world continued to move along without me as my world stopped, shrunk and went in slow motion. And yet, I engaged with pieces of my heart and psyche that had never been explored, maturing me, changing me and causing me to evolve into a different person.

Now that I am 8.5 months out of treatment I am feeling a lot better. I am slowly re-engaging back into normal life and rhythms. I am instructing at the YMCA again, almost back to full-time hours at work, re-engaging in community and most days able to accomplish my to-do list.

To the naked eye, it would appear that I am back to normal. In many ways, my life looks extremely similar to how it did before. Unfortunately, as previously stated, I do not feel like I necessarily “fit” well in that old life.

One of the many challenges associated with this change is that I still don’t know what my new capacity is. My body continues to surprise me and I am slowly able to take on more and more. My cyclefit classes state that they are amazed by how my fitness has improved. Many members probably would never guess I just came out of a cancer journey. At the same time, I keep having these unfortunate ups and downs. I appear to be doing really well and then suddenly, I am sick and in bed for a few days, over-extended, fatigued and battling a runny nose or a cough.

There’s an invitation in this season to be open and flexible to rediscovering what life should look like. In the same way that Jesus encouraged people to be open to discover who he truly was and leave aside their assumptions, I am invited to set aside my expectations of what life should look like. I need time to evaluate and discover who I am. Everything feels like its been questioned or challenged. Rhythms of work and rest, hobbies, exercise, friendship, diet; all are reexamined through this new lens that cancer has given me. In addition, priorities, dreams and values sit at the forefront of my thoughts more than ever.

So what will this next step of my cancer journey require of me? I imagine a renewed sense of discovery, flexibility, patience and perseverance. I know that it will take time to fully feel back in the loop in my workplace and relationships. There are lots of stories and experiences to hear about that I missed while I was off, including some new families in my church that I still haven’t connected with.

I am aware that it will take time to wrestle with questions of call and vocation and how I faithfully live those out in light of discovering what my overall capacity is. I know that it will take time to discover how much is too much. The one thing I do know is that it’s okay that I feel different. I know it’s not good to try to force the new me to fit in my old life. It is not clear yet what things need to change in the fabrics of my old life to make the changes that have occurred have space to flourish and not be at risk to tear the whole thing apart. I think there’s only one way to really know; pray, be patient, try some stuff, adjust often and be okay with making some mistakes along the way. Thanks for journeying with us.

“When we refuse to live within limits, we are refusing to live with a basic reality of human existence. There is a finiteness to what I can do in this body. There is a finiteness to how many relationships I can engage in meaningfully at one time. There is a finiteness to time- how many hours there are in a day, how many days there are in a week and how much can be done in those blocks of time. There is a finiteness to my energy. There comes a time when I am tired. There comes a time when I am sick. There comes a time when I am injured. There are times when I am reminded that I am human- a finite being living in the presence of an infinite God. God is the infinite one. God is the one who can be all things to all people. God is the one who can be in all places at once. God is the one who never sleeps. I am not.” (Ruth Haley Barton)

[danmarkreid]

A New Chapter

Sometimes a particular season of our life is marked by a clear event, conversation or moment that shapes who we are when we look back on it. In the past year, Melody and I would describe that our season of suffering can be bookmarked with two significant events: the passing of our grandmothers. We were both very close to the women that we lost in the past nine months. Melody lost her grandmother right at the beginning of our difficult journey, and as you will read, with the passing of my grandmother this January, we feel a sense of transition coming. We feel we are coming out of a season of sickness and recovery and entering back into the fullness of life. We sense this new period will be marked with joy, beauty and clarity of purpose and priorities.

With the new year coming, It feels like we have turned the page to start a new chapter of our journey. January always points to a significant month on one’s calendar; a new year, a fresh start and a sense that new goals can be set or achieved. For us, January brought a monumental transition for our family; namely, my gradual return to work.

There are moments of uncertainty surrounding my return to work. Will I have the capacity? How would we care for Marcus? Am I ready?

Fortunately, we have a fantastic team surrounding us. Between the cancer coaches, physiotherapists, occupational therapist and psychotherapist, we have the right people in place cheering me on and providing support to help the transition. We spent the Christmas break, before the return to work, investing deeply into our relationships with our parents and one another because we knew that having the flexibility of schedule was a gift and we always are trying to maximize our time with family.

Our visit to Southern Ontario had its ups and downs but all in all, we were so thankful for quality time spent with people we love. Specifically, I was grateful for a trip I made to see my grandmother at her nursing home. We had a delightful lunch and it was fun to watch her play with Marcus from her wheelchair and play the piano for him. He was absolutely mesmerized. What I didn’t know was that would be the last time we visit her nursing home.

Days before we headed back to Ottawa we received a text that my grandmother had been taken to hospital. We decided to not rush back to Ottawa but instead go down to St. Catharines and visit her. I got to sit with my grandmother and spend time expressing my love, through service, reading to her and prayer. It was a beautiful and serene scene.

Unfortunately, as is fitting with the year we’ve had, my return to work did not start as planned. The first day I was meant to start work I had to take a bereavement day to honour my grandmother who passed away on January 5th. We stood around the graveside, with the cold winter air blowing against our tear-stained faces. It was not how I pictured ending my sick leave and yet I felt a sense of hope.

Deep down I feel the Lord saying that this season of hardship is coming to an end. There was a lot of sadness, grief and pain. At the same time, the same day my grandmother was taking her last breaths and peacefully leaving this world, I was given a second lease on life. The tests had come back and currently, there are no signs of cancer. All the pain and suffering had been worth it, at least for now. I’m not sure if my grandmother heard the news while she was taking her last breaths, with my mom sitting by her side, but I’m sure she knew. She was my biggest cheerleader and would not take a bite without first praying for my health.

So now begins a new chapter of my story. Life after cancer and returning back to work. I am filled with hope and peace knowing that Jesus has new life for me. I know that life will probably look very different as cancer has changed me significantly but I am confident that it will be good. I need to remember to give myself and others grace as I figure out how to re-engage in a different sphere that I stepped out of for so long.

As I look ahead in anticipation I reflect on these words from David:

I will extol You, O Lord, for You have lifted me up,

And have not let my enemies rejoice over me.

 O Lord my God,

I cried to You for help, and You healed me.

O Lord, You have brought up my soul from Sheol;

You have kept me alive, that I would not go down to the pit.

Sing praise to the Lord, you His godly ones,

And give thanks to His holy name.

For His anger is but for a moment,

His favor is for a lifetime;

Weeping may last for the night,

But a shout of joy comes in the morning.

Now as for me, I said in my prosperity,

“I will never be moved.”

O Lord, by Your favor You have made my mountain to stand strong;

You hid Your face, I was dismayed.

To You, O Lord, I called,

And to the Lord I made supplication:

 “What profit is there in my blood, if I go down to the pit?

Will the dust praise You? Will it declare Your faithfulness?

“Hear, O Lord, and be gracious to me;

O Lord, be my helper.”

You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;

You have loosed my sackcloth and girded me with gladness,

That my soul may sing praise to You and not be silent.

O Lord my God, I will give thanks to You forever. (Psalm 30)

If we were sitting together around a table, I would raise a glass and we would cheers to this new chapter. With this new year I wish you all the best as well. May it be one where you can see lilies bloom in the field and harvests flourish. If not, may you trust that the Lord is one who brings beauty out of the ashes. If he can do that for me, I believe he can do it for you too.

[danmarkreid]

Life After Cancer

Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colours. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way. (James 1:2-4, The Message)

Advent is upon us. A season filled with longing and desire as we prepare for Christmas day, the celebration of Christ’s arrival to this world. We wait for the one who brings peace, hope, joy, and love to our hurting and struggling world. I am grateful for a time that addresses those places where we are yearning for more and can be honest about our need for someone to come and rescue either ourselves or the world around us.

Each year Advent strikes me in different ways. Currently, in terms of my journey with cancer, the greatest longing is for peace in my soul as I prepare for life after cancer. I am amazed at how scared I am.

It was almost a year ago that I first blogged about how our deepest fears are those that keep us up in the middle of the night. Moments of submission come where we must face with the truth that we are not in control and are desperate for help. Alternatively, we may try to cope with the discomfort through escapism or minimalism.

It’s been awhile since I could not sleep. I’ve been sleeping well the last month after some very difficult months of disruptive sleep patterns during my treatment. Unfortunately, one night recently, insomnia was an unwanted friend. There were potentially a few factors; a sugar high after an indulgent night of gingerbread snacking, but more so from a wave of fear and emotion because of a letter from my insurance company. I was informed that they were moving forward my target date to be back at work full-time up by 6 weeks from what they originally told me. This letter followed a phone call stating that my start date back to work part-time was being moved up by 2 weeks. These two interactions left me hurt, angry and afraid.

I think there are a lot of emotions behind what I was feeling. Firstly, I am a stay at home parent right now looking after a 14 month old who I love dearly. Feeling like the timelines for returning to work were out of my control made my world feel unstable and I perceived instability for my son. I am aware that a lot of my stress came from the fact that Melody and I had not yet discussed our childcare plan for Marcus. We were under the impression that we had more time. I felt pressure to figure out a plan over the Christmas holidays, while travelling, while daycares are closed, and while we are away from our community in Ottawa. Feeling like I cannot make a plan quickly enough created stress and an unfortunate breeding ground for resentment towards my insurance company. Melody and I maybe should have had somewhat of a plan more in place but I was under the impression that this process would be much slower.

Secondly, I believed that I was being invited into a collaboration with the insurance company in terms of when I would be ready to return to work. Suddenly, it did not feel like a collaboration at all. It felt much more like a dictatorship. Luckily that dynamic was more a misunderstanding.

Lastly and I think most significantly, I do not know yet if I am ready to face life after cancer. Right now it feels like my part-time job is treating my cancer! Am I ready to lay that aside these things to go back to work? Between physiotherapy, psychotherapy, massage therapy, physical exercise, cancer coaching and workshops my life feels full. The activities are incredibly helpful for my body and my soul. I fear that work could potentially push these things aside. The date that my insurance company set as the aim to be back full-time is in the middle of treatments. I am already booked up in my week with appointments, counselling and workshops that make it so that I can’t even work full-time, even if I wanted to.

Hard conversations have begun. I sit and wait to hear if my concerns will be heard. I am thankful for family doctors, occupational therapists and employers who are understanding and in some cases advocating for me with the insurance company.

In addition, the most difficult conversation I need to have with myself is “Am I ready to face life after cancer?” At this point, the honest truth is that I don’t know. I don’t feel like I am through this stage of the cancer journey yet. I have been told by my doctors and the insurance company that the goal is to get back to “normal”. I don’t know if that is possible. What is normal? I am a different person; changed and transformed through this process. I am afraid I will not have the capacity to keep up with the demands and timelines of my insurance company. I am angry because I don’t even want to have to try. I am hesitant to commit yet to how I will spend my time once I go back to ministry. I want to continue to prioritize time to my family, to my health and to my community. I worry about how work commitments will affect my capacity for other commitments. I doubt I will have enough energy to do everything well.

As I face this fear I am thankful that it’s Advent. My soul needs the space to reflect, pray and long this Christmas season. Jesus will you come and shine your light on my darkness? Bring peace and faith to the areas where there is fear. Bring your hope to the places where there is despair. Bring love to the places of bitterness towards my insurance company and help me be willing to speak truth in love but also cooperate. I long to be able to say that there will be great joy as I see the ways that Christ is present with me through this situation.

It is interesting to be in a place where I feel a bit powerless and oppressed by this giant machine called insurance companies. As a middle class white male I rarely have moments in our society where I am not in the place of power. I realized this morning it is changing the way I read scripture and identify with the Israelites as they were waiting for the birth of their Messiah. They felt powerless, disrespected and stuck just like I do except they had much less power in their society than I do. As I tap into my experience it brings more life to the promise:

Strengthen the weak hands, 

  and make firm the feeble knees.

Say to those who have an anxious heart,

   “Be strong; fear not!

Behold, your God

   will come with vengeance,

with the recompense of God.

   He will come and save you.” (Isaiah 35:3-4)

As I have alluded to before, I don’t know if I am ready to face life after cancer. The battles with fatigue and fear, the desire to invest in the right priorities and only give attention to the things that really matter linger in the background. Luckily, I can remember that I don’t have to do it perfectly. I am loved and cherished as one who is imperfect and I don’t have to have it all figured out. I trust that my friends and family will help me figure out when I am ready to step into whatever my life will look like next. I am so grateful that I am beginning to feel free from the need to perform, impress or keep up to the sometimes unachievable narratives our society places on us. I simply long to be obedient to whatever I feel God is calling me in the current season.

Blessings to each of you this Christmas season. May you have the opportunity to be honest about what you are longing for and I pray that Christ may appear to you this Christmas and show you how he is the source of all that you are truly desiring. Thanks for reading. Mel and I are so grateful for our community.

[danmarkreid]

Going Back to Move Forward

Do you have an article of clothing that you feel incredibly comfortable in? It makes you feel confident, secure, attractive and ready to take on the world?

Many of us also have the opposite experience. Pieces that make us feel frumpy, self-conscious, and inadequate. We are ready to run to the hills where we can hide, unseen, unnoticed and avoiding ridicule.

The fortunate thing about clothes is that you can throw away the things that make you feel uncomfortable. It’s much more difficult when the problem that you are running from is a piece of your past. It’s much harder to change yourself than simply change your sweater.

How do we resolve this tension within? There is part of you that wants to hide or run. You want to change but you cannot figure out how?

I would suggest many of us learn to cope. One of the ways that I manage my unease is that I get busy. I used to fill my life with religious activity. It aided my relationship with God, helping me feel better about the pain unresolved in my soul. I never had to stop long enough to have an honest conversation with my soul. Slowly I am learning that I need to stop, practice silence and solitude and just simply be. When everything is stripped away, with nothing to turn to, what happens to our soul?

As I reflect on my experiences during cancer treatments, the most difficult part was having everything stripped away. Like many, I felt isolated from others, even among a community that was loving and present. I felt isolated from God. There’s a lot of pressure on the relationship. All the ways I once knew how to interact with God were gone. I didn’t feel I had the energy to do the spiritual disciplines I used to. In the pain and sorrow, I chose to cope with sin patterns from the past. There was great sorrow and disappointment.

So now I take time to sit and reflect. Why did cancer treatment feel so difficult? What did I learn? In what ways did I respond negatively? In what ways did God help Melody and I respond the best that one can?

Now that my energy and physical wellness are returning, I am taking time to focus on the emotional and spiritual parts of me. Instead of just rushing back to work and to busyness, which would have been my default before, I am slowing down. Instead of filling my calendar with important “ministry”, I am ministering to my soul, learning how to sit with God in the questions.

Practically, it looks like counselling, workshops, prayer ministry and prioritizing writing and reflection. The desire to jump back in is a competing narrative but I can hear a strong, but loving voice asking me to stop, to pause, to rest.

At the beginning of my cancer journey a friend said these words in a prayer meeting,

“Dan, I don’t know if God will take away your cancer, but I do sense him saying that He wants to save you.”

Preparing for the treacherous road ahead of me, there was not much I could do. I was surrounded by an amazing team of healthcare professionals and family. Yet, I knew I wasn’t powerless. I could gather friends and family around us to pray, to listen and to seek to know Christ more deeply through this life altering experience. At the time, the phrase “He wants to save you” rang true, but I had no idea what that would mean.

Now, on the other side of treatment, I can see that this cancer experience is doing something way bigger in my heart and soul. You see, when I was young I learned to deal with sin and pain with busyness and activity. I learned how to run. Unfortunately, cancer took out my legs from under me. I couldn’t run anymore. I couldn’t connect with God through activity, busyness or spiritual activity and escape from the unresolved pieces of who I was. I had to face patterns of sin and could not cope with them in the ways that I once had.

Somewhere along the way in all the treatments, physical decline and sadness, I started to feel distant from God. I turned to other things to help dull the pain, Twitter, Instagram, watching sports, reading the news (which has been incredibly depressing in 2016!) and other behaviours that led to sinful behaviours and a deep feeling of spiritual isolation and sadness.

I didn’t realize how much of my experience of intimacy with God is based on the routines that I stick to, the work that I do, and the activity I fill my time with. When all was stripped away, I struggled to be with Christ. At the same time, as I had to slow down and stop, the world around me continued. It was difficult to know my place.

How ironic is it that my full time job the last few weeks is to simply be with Marcus. Enjoy him. Tend to his needs. Pay attention to him. I love it and yet there is almost nothing in my day that relates to anything that could be termed as grand or significant to so many in our society. I never thought there would be an extended time where I would be a stay at home dad and my life would focus on helping my son and wife excel and develop from behind the scenes.

The interesting part is that when I’m with Marcus, my old behaviours and patterns that helped me feel close to God don’t work anymore. I don’t get 30 minutes of silence to meditate on scripture, journal and pray anymore. I now read scripture in an environment where Mega Blocks are being tossed in my face, my Bible is being grabbed at and I am being babbled at a mile a minute. It’s not quiet, but it is good. Sometimes I read the scripture to Marcus. He doesn’t seem to listen very well. :)

I’m in a season where I’m relearning how to interact with God. It would be extreme to say I’m relearning everything, but there are definitely days that it feels like it. I’m being invited to learn new spiritual practices, to acknowledge God’s presence with me in every circumstance, whether that be a doctor’s office, a park or a hospital bed and to say no to the urge to be active in ministry and just simply learn to be.

I think it is safe to say that though God has not yet taken away my cancer miraculously, He is saving my soul. Old, ragged, destructive and gross dispositions are being stripped away and a beautiful new gown is being placed over my head. Believe me, it is much nicer than those gross hospital gowns. Do you not think someone could design something just a bit more attractive for all those poor patients? Lord have mercy!

In my working through why I felt like God was distant, I am finding that he was present the whole time. When asking why there were ways I did not cope well, Jesus is inviting me to find healing for emotional wounds that have been there for decades. It is hard to fully portray in writing what I am going through. Like a caterpillar in a cocoon, the transformation contains beauty, mystery and uncertainty of what will come out the other side.

Richard Rohr writes extensively about masculinity and spirituality. Apparently there are five essential truths that men must discover if they are to grow into maturity. He argues that some men never actually face the pain long enough to learn these lessons and therefore never fully mature. The five truths are the following:

Life is hard.

You are not that important.

Your life is not about you.

You are not in control.

You are going to die.

Now I sit. Letting go of old habits and behaviours. Unlearning old coping mechanisms that do not bring life. Connecting with God in new ways. Embracing truth. Learning not to run from the parts of me that I don’t know how to deal with. Releasing all the patterns that have defined me and embracing the unknown. Learning how to just sit and be with the Father. Recognizing the soft, sweet voice of the Father touching my heart. Receiving words of love, affirmation and affection. A love that will never leave me, no matter how big of a mess I make.

Out of the ashes new life is being birthed that is beautiful. The hard part is that we aren’t there yet. Melody and I still have 6 weeks of counselling left and lots of unresolved questions and fears. Through it all, I know I can trust the One who is guiding us in this process. He is good. Going back will be worth it and I’m feeling more comfortable in my skin each and every day.

[danmarkreid]

Airplanes, Birthday Balloons and Running Shoes

Fall is in the air. The air gets colder, the leaves change colour and a new season begins. There are so many themes associated with autumn, including harvest, transition, gratitude and beauty. This year in particular, I have been taken aback by how much I have to be thankful for. What a crazy road we’ve been on as a family. Yet, our hearts are full of joy and thanksgiving.

Firstly, we had a fantastic time away visiting Melody’s family in San Francisco. We are thankful for their hospitality and generosity. We had great moments of rest, sightseeing and memory-making. The trip allowed us to get out and have fun again, to explore, to delight, to experience. We also had to celebrate that I could essentially eat anything and everything again. I savoured the food and drink, giving thanks at each little stop we made on our little food tours for the fact that I could still taste and that my mouth is almost fully healed.

It is hard to know how much you have been fighting to survive until you start to come out the other side. All of a sudden we realized we had energy again to start to simply enjoy the beauty of the world around us. Like finally hitting the top of a mountain, we could essentially downshift and coast for a little bit, aware of the fatigue but finally getting to exhale and catch our breath again. It feels good to relax a bit.

Furthermore, while we were away I started jogging again. Tieing up my sneakers once more sparked something deep within. I love running and have spent the last decade of my life growing in this discipline. Very quickly over the past few weeks, speed and endurance are increasing. I need to remember to be patient with myself. It is okay if I am not fully back to where I was. Any given morning, Marcus and I can be be seen jogging down the canal path near our house, with massive grins plastered on our faces. As I push a little bit further, a little bit faster, Marcus’ screams of delight get a little bit louder.

Regularity and normalcy are slowly returning to our family. Marcus just celebrated his first birthday. There was truly a spirit of joy that rang throughout the house as Marcus discovered balloons and icing, lavishing in the attention from his aunties and uncles who gathered around the table. I can’t believe our little guy is already a year old. What a year it’s been! I am grateful for the fact that he is growing up in an atmosphere where he is loved by so many people.

In addition, Melody has returned to work and we were slightly hesitant about how it would go. To our relief and delight, she’s loving it. Her passion and commitment to students has returned and she is growing in her capacity and vision for her work on campus. The transition has meant that Marcus and I spend a lot of time together and I’m loving it. Being home with Marcus is a perfect step for me right now in my healing journey. My energy levels are continuing to rise and I am thoroughly enjoying watching him grow, discover and explore.

When I started this journey, I had a sense that I was going to learn about joy eventually but there would be a lot of suffering first. I think it’s safe to say that we are beginning to taste what that joy is like. As I continue to work through Philippians we see these words,

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:4-7)

I have been on a path of suffering and I have desired to know Christ more and more through the process. I consistently have believed that God would use this whole situation for good, even if I did not know how. I get a sense that the experience of joy and peace is coming.

I am not sure exactly where the joy is coming from but I think it’s birthed out of gratitude. We are realizing that there is so much that we should not take for granted. I am so thankful for the many gifts that I have been given; my wife, son, family, friends, medical community, my energy, and the list goes on.

You may not remember, but when I was starting this journey, I wrote these words:

“Paul knew suffering. He also knew Christ. In this next season I will know suffering, that’s for sure, and boy do I want to come out the other side knowing Christ. I want to be able to honestly write 'Rejoice. Don’t worry about anything but take all your concerns to God and he’ll give you peace.’ I’m not there yet.” (February 15, 2016).

The temptation for me now is to settle. I am starting to feel better physically and there is a sense that I could just move on. Close the chapters on this cancer journey, hop back into work and be “normal” (whatever that is). Unfortunately, when I sit still in prayer I know we’re not done. There is more that God still wants to do. There’s still hurt, fear and deep questions. I am starting psychotherapy and I get the sense that before I can move forward, first I need to go back. As my energy returns and I begin to engage with the world again, I need to sit with Jesus and work through what has happened this past 6 months. Where have I felt he has been absent, where have I felt hurt, betrayed or neglected? I believe that this process may be difficult but it is where true life, joy and restoration will come. Even though my body is healing I get a sense that my spirit is still a little bit in shock mode and I know it is important to pay attention to that.

So as October wraps up and we watch the leaves fall as we sip our pumpkin spice lattes, may we continue to give thanks. In gratitude, I treasure the gifts that God has given me on a deeper level than ever before. One of the gifts I give thanks for is each of you who read, who pray and who love us so deeply. Thank you for tracking with our story. My prayer is that you would also experience joy this fall as you identify the gifts that you treasure as well, no matter how difficult the last week, month or year has been.

I bow down toward your holy temple and give thanks to your name for your steadfast love and your faithfulness; for you have exalted your name and your word above everything. (Psalm 138:2).