afterlife · Inspirational · Prayer · Spiritual

Imperishable: What cancer cannot take

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But let me tell you something wonderful, a mystery I’ll probably never fully understand. We’re not all going to die—but we are all going to be changed. You hear a blast to end all blasts from a trumpet, and in the time that you look up and blink your eyes—it’s over. On signal from that trumpet from heaven, the dead will be up and out of their graves, beyond the reach of death, never to die again. At the same moment and in the same way, we’ll all be changed. In the resurrection scheme of things, this has to happen: everything perishable taken off the shelves and replaced by the imperishable, this mortal replaced by the immortal. Then the saying will come true:

Death swallowed by triumphant Life! Who got the last word, oh, Death? Oh, Death, who’s afraid of you now?” – 1 Cor. 15:54-57 (The Message)

I have a dear friend who lives many miles away, whose dear friend is dying from cancer. I’ve never met the woman suffering , but I have implored God to heal her. She is forty-four years old, in the prime of life – and until a few months ago –  expected that life to be a long, full one. My dear friend is brokenhearted. She tells me that her dear one is wasting away, tethered to IV to cords of fluids and nutrition, to buy her a few more days. In short, her earth suit has a very finite warranty, but the essence of who she is will break free of it and know no more pain.

The woman with cancer… she prayed for healing, and believed. Why is she not miraculously whole?

Life, and death. And Life.

Last night, while in fervent prayer for this cancer patient, I had a bit of a vision about the confounding cycle of life and death. God gives us what we need to make the journey, but only to make the journey. And then …. life everlasting.

Have you ever seen a picture of a human embryo floating in its mother’s dark womb? First-conceived babies are alien-esque; plump, pink, funny-looking things, tethered by a cord of fluid and nutrition. They look like little pods, really – and in fact, they are. Little pods of spirit poured under skin and over bone (or what will become bone –  the super neat thing about life in this stage is that the cells have intellect of sorts, they know where they are to go, and what they are to be, to become what the Creator deemed long ago they become.) Humans are transparent, at this stage …you can see through them; and from the moment their earth suits are crafted, they are destined to change the world.

Some say our bodies – our intricately designed, one-of-a-kind pods – are cosmic happenstance. But my faith isn’t big enough to believe that.

I say they give us form and physical function to make a journey. They are suits that enable us how to have an experience – simply put, how to learn to love God and love each other.  Our Creator pours us into them for this assignment, in which every nerve reaction puts forth a ripple, affecting the trajectory of the lives of every other journeyman. So when the essence of who we are breaks away from the pod, we are well-versed in love for the journey that is only beginning.

My friend’s friend is breaking away from her earth suit. Her form of life is transitioning, getting ready for another birth.  She is sallow now – yes, skin and bones. Her pod is worn-out from an insidious sickness. Her cells, which God once orchestrated into perfect harmony, are suffocated by cells that don’t belong there at all. They have lost their intellect.

But her spirit ? It is changing the world. Having set into motion shock-waves of love that will ripple long after her body has expired. She has gained enlightenment, because she was transparent with the world in her love for God – and others – on this crazy journey…  others who could only know love through the vehicle of her life.

She will live, and the cancer will die.

Just as she prayed, believing.

Life and death. And Life. And more life still.

Spiritual

Great Faith and the Bigger Picture

By:  Jana Greene

“And so here I am, preaching and writing about things that are way over my head, the inexhaustible riches and generosity of Christ.  My task is to bring out in the open and make plain what God, who created all this in the first place, has been doing in secret and behind the scenes all along.  Through followers of Jesus like yourselves gathered in churches, this extraordinary plan of God is becoming known and talked about even among the angels!” –  Saint Paul, Ephesians 3:9-10

I am inspired by The Greats.  Saint Paul was definitely a great man.

As was  C.S. Lewis, the Oxford-educated Novelist who penned The Chronicles of Narnia, among other works.  He himself had been a staunch atheist before his conversion to Christianity, explaining that in his youth, he had been “very angry with God for not existing”.   I have read everything I can get my hands on by Mr. Lewis and have an appreciation for his amazing mind.  Still, I would love to sit down and have a cup Irish tea with him, and pick his brain.

I’ve a feeling that his musings might be “over my head”.

There are so many things I don’t understand.  What is God doing about the things that seem to make no sense?  What about the good and lovely human beings who suffer with cancer or mental illness or addiction and whose lives are claimed by those things?  The ones who fight as hard as they are able and trust in God’s strategy in spite of the predicted outcome?

Those people – they are The Greats as well.

Yesterday, the world lost such a great man.   He was a dear friend to my husband and I – an amazing husband to his wife of forty-eight years, and an incredible father to his daughters.  He was a gentle giant, a man who trusted that God was working behind the scenes.  He suffered intermittently with cancer for twenty-two years, and although he doesn’t walk with us on earth anymore, the cancer did not win.

My friend – The Great – is in paradise now, whole in his brand-new glorified body.  The cancer is dead.

I was blessed to be able to talk to This Great about his struggles.  Frankly and plainly, he  talked about dying sometimes, but more often he talked about living.  He was a living example of the inexhaustible riches and generosity of Christ; about the life he was honored to live – however long that might be.  He made plain the word of God with his faith.  He would never want his passing to be considered tragic.  He would want others to look at the bigger picture.  How many lives did he impact with twenty-two years of unrelenting faith and love for other people?

Am I angry at God for existing, but not stopping the disease that claimed my friend’s earthly life?

Perhaps a little, if I’m honest.  But God looks after The Greats, he looks after all of us.  Even in issues that seem to be over our heads.  The things that make no sense make no sense because we aren’t privy to the back-story, the Master strategy.  That’s just simple faith.  Simple, life-giving faith.

C.S. Lewis also said:  “Has this world been so kind to you that you should leave with regret?  There are better things ahead than any we should leave behind!”

That, I can understand.

Today, Heaven rejoices that my friend – The Great – suffers no more.   I like to think he might be sitting down to a cup of Irish tea with Mr. Lewis, considering things that remain over our earthly heads.

With the Father whose plan is perfect, there among the angels.