Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Grace Sublime

It was a little more than two weeks ago when I received a call from Mom concerning Dad's cancer. I now type this blog entry while sitting in Dad's hospital room at the MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. He had a very successful surgery this morning, according to the doctor, and the doctor feels really good about the prognosis and upcoming treatment. I am so grateful for the news...for the hope that Dad can soon be cancer-free and for the idea of a shared future with him. Even as I sense God's grace in Dad's life and in mine, I struggle to grasp the extent to which that grace abounds. It is humbling to acknowledge.

The context is that, when I found out Dad was sick, I was in the midst of the busiest season of ministry I have ever experienced. I'm still in the midst of it. I have been consumed and preoccupied with my various responsibilities. For me, deadlines are the kryptonite to reflection and yet reflection is the life-blood of growth in my life. Reflection leads to meditation and meditation leads to, by God's grace, transformation.

Getting the ill news was like slamming on the brakes of the car while driving at a very fast speed. There was the jolting, the screeching, the skidding, and the jarring. I know God intends much more through this than simply getting my attention, yet I felt compelled for the first time in months to consider life beyond the urgent.

Since then, I find myself drawn to prayer, drawn to more dependence on Him. I want Dad to be okay and, still, the possibility that he won't be frightens me sometimes. Dad knows in Whom he has believed, he knows Who his Savior is. Of that I have no fear. I struggle, then, to put a name to this fear. I think it revolves primarily around the image I have of the future and of that image being shattered. It feels oddly similar to the frustrations that I still struggle with in regards to infertility. My vision for the future involves children for Carita and I and a grandfather for those children, afterall. Fear and frustration ensue when that vision is threatened. God has been gracious as I try to find my place in His plans and His place in mine.

Since then, I have seen Mom and Dad live and speak with a clarity of purpose that seems to graciously come to those who must consider their mortality. As I have heard them share the ways in which God has soaked their days with His mercy and love...the ways in which He is teaching them, I find myself drawn towards those same themes and lessons.

Since then, I have seen Mom and Dad's ministry to the Body of Christ increase in significant ways. I have seen the Body of Christ surround them with prayers, affirmation, and consideration in ways that leave me speechless. I see the ways that they have impacted those around them because people are lining up and begging for the opportunity to minister to them. They bring flowers, drop by with meals, constantly pray. They plead for their turn to be by Dad's bedside and consider it their privilege to stay with him through the night. It makes me teary-eyed to see how much people care for my parents.

And, as I sit here in Dad's room, keeping him company through this first night of recovery, I see the ways in which God's grace is sufficient for all of our needs. What challenges tomorrow will bring, I do not know, but I see that His grace is abundant for every minute and that I never need to hoard up His grace, as if there won't be enough for the next minute or day or month. I see that we are overwhelmed by His goodness and I count it a blessing to be known and so loved by Him.