Guest guest Posted July 25, 2008 Report Share Posted July 25, 2008 Thanks for posting this Tony... I read it the other day and was very moved. It's well worth reading everyone! Beth Age 48 Fibrotic NSIP 06/06 UCTD 07/08 Change everything. Love and Forgive Yhis says it all This is something pretty out standing whether or not, Tony Snow wrote it! Very lengthy but very well written! Ed~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~This is outstanding testimony from Tony Snow, President Bush's Press Secretary, and his fight with cancer. Commentator and broadcaster Tony Snow announced that he had colon cancer in 2005. Following surgery and chemotherapy, Snow joined the Bush Administration in April 2006 as press secretary. Unfortunately, on March 23, 2007, Snow, 51, a husband and father of three, announced the cancer had recurred, with tumors found in his abdomen, leading to surgery in April, followed by more chemotherapy. Snow went back to work in the White House Briefing Room on May 30, but has resigned since, 'for economic reasons,' and to pursue 'other interests'. It needs little intro...it speaks for itself.------------ --------- --------- --------- --------- --------- -'Blessings arrive in unexpected packages – in my case, cancer. Those of us with potentially fatal diseases – and there are millions in America today – find ourselves in the odd position of coping with our mortality while trying to fathom God's will. Although it would be the height of presumption to declare with confidence 'What It All Means,' Scripture provides powerful hints and consolations.The first is that we shouldn't spend too much time trying to answer the 'why' questions: Why me? Why must people suffer? Why can't someone else get sick? We can't answer such things, and the questions themselves often are designed more to express our anguish than to solicit an answer. I don't know why I have cancer, and I don't much care. It is what it is, a plain and indisputable fact. Yet even while staring into a mirror darkly, great and stunning truths begin to take shape. Our maladies define a central feature of our existence: We are fallen. We are imperfect. Our bodies give out. But despite this, or because of it, God offers the possibility of salvation and grace. We don't know how the narrative of our lives will end, but we get to choose how to use the interval between now and the moment we meet our Creator face-to-face. Second, we need to get past the anxiety. The mere thought of dying can send adrenaline flooding through your system. A dizzy, unfocused panic seizes you. Your heart thumps; your head swims. You think of nothingness and swoon. You fear partings; you worry about the impact on family and friends. You fidget and get nowhere.To regain footing, remember that we were born not into death, but into life, and that the journey continues after we have finished our days on this earth. We accept this on faith, but that faith is nourished by a conviction that stirs even within many non-believing hearts – an intuition that the gift of life, once given, cannot be taken away. Those who have been stricken enjoy the special privilege of being able to fight with their might, main, and faith to live fully, richly, exuberantly – no matter how their days may be numbered. Third, we can open our eyes and hearts. God relishes surprise. We want lives of simple, predictable ease – smooth, even trails as far as the eye can see; but God likes to go off-road. He provokes us with twists and turns. He places us in predicaments that seem to defy our endurance; and comprehension – and yet don't. By His love and grace, we persevere. The challenges that make our hearts leap and stomachs churn invariably strengthen our faith and grant measures of wisdom and joy we would not experience otherwise. 'You Have Been Called'. Picture yourself in a hospital bed. The fog of anesthesia has begun to wear away. A doctor stands at your feet; a loved one holds your hand at the side. 'It's cancer,' the healer announces. The natural reaction is to turn to God and ask him to serve as a cosmic Santa. 'Dear God, make it all go away. Make everything simpler.' But another voice whispers: 'You have been called.' Your quandary has drawn you closer to God, closer to those you love, closer to the issues that matter, and has dragged into insignificance the banal concerns that occupy our 'normal time.' There's another kind of response, although usually short-lived an inexplicable shudder of excitement, as if a clarifying moment of calamity has swept away everything trivial and tiny, and placed before us the challenge of important questions. The moment you enter the Valley of the Shadow of Death, things change. You discover that Christianity is not something doughy, passive, pious, and soft. Faith may be the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. But it also draws you into a world shorn of fearful caution. The life of belief teems with thrills, boldness, danger, shocks, reversals, triumphs, and epiphanies. Think of , traipsing through the known world and contemplating trips to what must have seemed the antipodes (Spain), shaking the dust from his sandals, worrying not about the morrow, but only about the moment.There's nothing wilder than a life of humble virtue, for it is through selflessness and service that God wrings from our bodies and spirits the most we ever could give, the most we ever could offer, and the most we ever could do. Finally, we can let love change everything. When Jesus was faced with the prospect of crucifixion, he grieved not for himself, but for us. He cried for Jerusalem before entering the holy city. From the Cross, he took on the cumulative burden of human sin and weakness, and begged for forgiveness on our behalf. We get repeated chances to learn that life is not about us, that we acquire purpose and satisfaction by sharing in God's love for others. Sickness gets us part way there. It reminds us of our limitations and dependence. But it also gives us a chance to serve the healthy. A minister friend of mine observes that people suffering grave afflictions often acquire the faith of two people, while loved ones accept the burden of two people's worries and fears. 'Learning How to Live'. Most of us have watched friends as they drifted toward God's arms, not with resignation, but with peace and hope. In so doing, they have taught us not how to die, but how to live. They have emulated Christ by transmitting the power and authority of love. I sat by my best friend's bedside a few years ago as a wasting cancer took him away. He kept at his table a worn Bible and a 1928 edition of the Book of Common Prayer. A shattering grief disabled his family, many of his old friends, and at least one priest. Here was an humble and very good guy, someone who apologized when he winced with pain because he thought it made his guest uncomfortable. He retained his equanimity and good humor literally until his last conscious moment. 'I'm going to try to beat [this cancer],' he told me several months before he died. 'But if I don't, I'll see you on the other side.' His gift was to remind everyone around him that even though God doesn't promise us tomorrow, he does promise us eternity – filled with life and love we cannot comprehend – and that one can in the throes of sickness point the rest of us toward timeless truths that will help us weather future storms. Through such trials, God bids us to choose: Do we believe, or do we not? Will we be bold enough to love, daring enough to serve, humble enough to submit, and strong enough to acknowledge our limitations? Can we surrender our concern in things that don't matter so that we might devote our remaining days to things that do? When our faith flags, he throws reminders in our way. Think of the prayer warriors in our midst. They change things, and those of us who have been on the receiving end of their petitions and intercessions know it. It is hard to describe, but there are times when suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you feel a surge of the Spirit. Somehow you just know: Others have chosen, when talking to the Author of all creation, to lift us up, to speak of us! This is love of a very special order. But so is the ability to sit back and appreciate the wonder of every created thing. The mere thought of death somehow makes every blessing vivid, every happiness more luminous and intense. We may not know how our contest with sickness will end, but we have felt the ineluctable touch of God. What is man that Thou art mindful of him? We don't know much, but we know this: No matter where we are, no matter what we do, no matter how bleak or frightening our prospects, each and every one of us who believe, each and every day, lies in the same safe and impregnable place, in the hollow of God's hand.' T. Snow____________ _________ _________ _________ _________ _________ _ Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted July 25, 2008 Report Share Posted July 25, 2008 AMAN Love and Prayers, Peggy IPF 2004, Florida"Worry looks around, Sorry looks back, Faith looks up." Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted July 26, 2008 Report Share Posted July 26, 2008 What a moving essay! Thank you so much Tony for sharing with us. God bless you- Sarcoid/PF 3/2006 California Yhis says it all This is something pretty out standing whether or not, Tony Snow wrote it! Very lengthy but very well written! Ed~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~This is outstanding testimony from Tony Snow, President Bush's Press Secretary, and his fight with cancer. Commentator and broadcaster Tony Snow announced that he had colon cancer in 2005. Following surgery and chemotherapy, Snow joined the Bush Administration in April 2006 as press secretary. Unfortunately, on March 23, 2007, Snow, 51, a husband and father of three, announced the cancer had recurred, with tumors found in his abdomen, leading to surgery in April, followed by more chemotherapy. Snow went back to work in the White House Briefing Room on May 30, but has resigned since, 'for economic reasons,' and to pursue 'other interests'. It needs little intro...it speaks for itself.------------ --------- --------- --------- --------- --------- -'Blessings arrive in unexpected packages – in my case, cancer. Those of us with potentially fatal diseases – and there are millions in America today – find ourselves in the odd position of coping with our mortality while trying to fathom God's will. Although it would be the height of presumption to declare with confidence 'What It All Means,' Scripture provides powerful hints and consolations.The first is that we shouldn't spend too much time trying to answer the 'why' questions: Why me? Why must people suffer? Why can't someone else get sick? We can't answer such things, and the questions themselves often are designed more to express our anguish than to solicit an answer. I don't know why I have cancer, and I don't much care. It is what it is, a plain and indisputable fact. Yet even while staring into a mirror darkly, great and stunning truths begin to take shape. Our maladies define a central feature of our existence: We are fallen. We are imperfect. Our bodies give out. But despite this, or because of it, God offers the possibility of salvation and grace. We don't know how the narrative of our lives will end, but we get to choose how to use the interval between now and the moment we meet our Creator face-to-face. Second, we need to get past the anxiety. The mere thought of dying can send adrenaline flooding through your system. A dizzy, unfocused panic seizes you. Your heart thumps; your head swims. You think of nothingness and swoon. You fear partings; you worry about the impact on family and friends. You fidget and get nowhere.To regain footing, remember that we were born not into death, but into life, and that the journey continues after we have finished our days on this earth. We accept this on faith, but that faith is nourished by a conviction that stirs even within many non-believing hearts – an intuition that the gift of life, once given, cannot be taken away. Those who have been stricken enjoy the special privilege of being able to fight with their might, main, and faith to live fully, richly, exuberantly – no matter how their days may be numbered. Third, we can open our eyes and hearts. God relishes surprise. We want lives of simple, predictable ease – smooth, even trails as far as the eye can see; but God likes to go off-road. He provokes us with twists and turns. He places us in predicaments that seem to defy our endurance; and comprehension – and yet don't. By His love and grace, we persevere. The challenges that make our hearts leap and stomachs churn invariably strengthen our faith and grant measures of wisdom and joy we would not experience otherwise. 'You Have Been Called'. Picture yourself in a hospital bed. The fog of anesthesia has begun to wear away. A doctor stands at your feet; a loved one holds your hand at the side. 'It's cancer,' the healer announces. The natural reaction is to turn to God and ask him to serve as a cosmic Santa. 'Dear God, make it all go away. Make everything simpler.' But another voice whispers: 'You have been called.' Your quandary has drawn you closer to God, closer to those you love, closer to the issues that matter, and has dragged into insignificance the banal concerns that occupy our 'normal time.' There's another kind of response, although usually short-lived an inexplicable shudder of excitement, as if a clarifying moment of calamity has swept away everything trivial and tiny, and placed before us the challenge of important questions. The moment you enter the Valley of the Shadow of Death, things change. You discover that Christianity is not something doughy, passive, pious, and soft. Faith may be the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. But it also draws you into a world shorn of fearful caution. The life of belief teems with thrills, boldness, danger, shocks, reversals, triumphs, and epiphanies. Think of , traipsing through the known world and contemplating trips to what must have seemed the antipodes (Spain), shaking the dust from his sandals, worrying not about the morrow, but only about the moment.There's nothing wilder than a life of humble virtue, for it is through selflessness and service that God wrings from our bodies and spirits the most we ever could give, the most we ever could offer, and the most we ever could do. Finally, we can let love change everything. When Jesus was faced with the prospect of crucifixion, he grieved not for himself, but for us. He cried for Jerusalem before entering the holy city. From the Cross, he took on the cumulative burden of human sin and weakness, and begged for forgiveness on our behalf. We get repeated chances to learn that life is not about us, that we acquire purpose and satisfaction by sharing in God's love for others. Sickness gets us part way there. It reminds us of our limitations and dependence. But it also gives us a chance to serve the healthy. A minister friend of mine observes that people suffering grave afflictions often acquire the faith of two people, while loved ones accept the burden of two people's worries and fears. 'Learning How to Live'. Most of us have watched friends as they drifted toward God's arms, not with resignation, but with peace and hope. In so doing, they have taught us not how to die, but how to live. They have emulated Christ by transmitting the power and authority of love. I sat by my best friend's bedside a few years ago as a wasting cancer took him away. He kept at his table a worn Bible and a 1928 edition of the Book of Common Prayer. A shattering grief disabled his family, many of his old friends, and at least one priest. Here was an humble and very good guy, someone who apologized when he winced with pain because he thought it made his guest uncomfortable. He retained his equanimity and good humor literally until his last conscious moment. 'I'm going to try to beat [this cancer],' he told me several months before he died. 'But if I don't, I'll see you on the other side.' His gift was to remind everyone around him that even though God doesn't promise us tomorrow, he does promise us eternity – filled with life and love we cannot comprehend – and that one can in the throes of sickness point the rest of us toward timeless truths that will help us weather future storms. Through such trials, God bids us to choose: Do we believe, or do we not? Will we be bold enough to love, daring enough to serve, humble enough to submit, and strong enough to acknowledge our limitations? Can we surrender our concern in things that don't matter so that we might devote our remaining days to things that do? When our faith flags, he throws reminders in our way. Think of the prayer warriors in our midst. They change things, and those of us who have been on the receiving end of their petitions and intercessions know it. It is hard to describe, but there are times when suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you feel a surge of the Spirit. Somehow you just know: Others have chosen, when talking to the Author of all creation, to lift us up, to speak of us! This is love of a very special order. But so is the ability to sit back and appreciate the wonder of every created thing. The mere thought of death somehow makes every blessing vivid, every happiness more luminous and intense. We may not know how our contest with sickness will end, but we have felt the ineluctable touch of God. What is man that Thou art mindful of him? We don't know much, but we know this: No matter where we are, no matter what we do, no matter how bleak or frightening our prospects, each and every one of us who believe, each and every day, lies in the same safe and impregnable place, in the hollow of God's hand.' T. Snow____________ _________ _________ _________ _________ _________ _ Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted July 26, 2008 Report Share Posted July 26, 2008 Tony, I thank you for posting this. Any one of us could have written it. I admired Tony Snow.....from way back to his radio days. He was a super good guy. Deserved to be on this earth many more years than he was given. I have to believe that he is in a place where he is so ecstatically happy that he wouldn't trade places with anyone on this earth. I will just miss him from my t.v. screen. Hugs, Joyce D.Pulmonary Fibrosis 1997 Bronchiectasis 2004 Pulmonary Hypertension 2008 Mixed Connective Tissue Disease (Lupus, RA, Sjogren's, etc) Rejected for Transplant 2006 .....I will not forget you. Behold, I have engraved you on the palm of my hands. Isaiah 49: 15-16>> Thanks for posting this Tony... I read it the other day and was very moved. It's well worth reading everyone!> > Beth > Age 48 Fibrotic NSIP 06/06 UCTD 07/08> > Change everything. Love and Forgive > > > > > > Yhis says it all> > > This is something pretty out standing whether or not, Tony Snow wrote > it! Very lengthy but very well written! > Ed~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~This is outstanding > testimony from Tony Snow, President Bush's Press Secretary, and his > fight with cancer. Commentator and broadcaster Tony Snow announced > that he had colon cancer in 2005. Following surgery and chemotherapy, > Snow joined the Bush Administration in April 2006 as press secretary. > Unfortunately, on March 23, 2007, Snow, 51, a husband and father of > three, announced the cancer had recurred, with tumors found in his > abdomen, leading to surgery in April, followed by more chemotherapy. > Snow went back to work in the White House Briefing Room on May 30, > but has resigned since, 'for economic reasons,' and to pursue 'other > interests'. It needs little intro...it speaks for itself.> ------------ --------- --------- --------- --------- --------- -> > 'Blessings arrive in unexpected packages – in my case, cancer. Those > of us with potentially fatal diseases – and there are millions in > America today – find ourselves in the odd position of coping with our > mortality while trying to fathom God's will. Although it would be the > height of presumption to declare with confidence 'What It All Means,' > Scripture provides powerful hints and consolations.> > The first is that we shouldn't spend too much time trying to answer > the 'why' questions: Why me? Why must people suffer? Why can't > someone else get sick? We can't answer such things, and the questions > themselves often are designed more to express our anguish than to > solicit an answer. > > I don't know why I have cancer, and I don't much care. It is what it > is, a plain and indisputable fact. Yet even while staring into a > mirror darkly, great and stunning truths begin to take shape. Our > maladies define a central feature of our existence: We are fallen. We > are imperfect. Our bodies give out. > > But despite this, or because of it, God offers the possibility of > salvation and grace. We don't know how the narrative of our lives > will end, but we get to choose how to use the interval between now > and the moment we meet our Creator face-to-face. > > Second, we need to get past the anxiety. The mere thought of dying > can send adrenaline flooding through your system. A dizzy, unfocused > panic seizes you. Your heart thumps; your head swims. You think of > nothingness and swoon. You fear partings; you worry about the impact > on family and friends. You fidget and get nowhere.> > To regain footing, remember that we were born not into death, but > into life, and that the journey continues after we have finished our > days on this earth. We accept this on faith, but that faith is > nourished by a conviction that stirs even within many non-believing > hearts – an intuition that the gift of life, once given, cannot be > taken away. Those who have been stricken enjoy the special privilege > of being able to fight with their might, main, and faith to live > fully, richly, exuberantly – no matter how their days may be > numbered. > > Third, we can open our eyes and hearts. God relishes surprise. We > want lives of simple, predictable ease – smooth, even trails as far > as the eye can see; but God likes to go off-road. He provokes us with > twists and turns. He places us in predicaments that seem to defy our > endurance; and comprehension – and yet don't. By His love and grace, > we persevere. The challenges that make our hearts leap and stomachs > churn invariably strengthen our faith and grant measures of wisdom > and joy we would not experience otherwise. > > 'You Have Been Called'. Picture yourself in a hospital bed. The fog > of anesthesia has begun to wear away. A doctor stands at your feet; a > loved one holds your hand at the side. 'It's cancer,' the healer > announces. > > The natural reaction is to turn to God and ask him to serve as a > cosmic Santa. 'Dear God, make it all go away. Make everything > simpler.' But another voice whispers: 'You have been called.' Your > quandary has drawn you closer to God, closer to those you love, > closer to the issues that matter, and has dragged into insignificance > the banal concerns that occupy our 'normal time.' > > There's another kind of response, although usually short-lived an > inexplicable shudder of excitement, as if a clarifying moment of > calamity has swept away everything trivial and tiny, and placed > before us the challenge of important questions. > > The moment you enter the Valley of the Shadow of Death, things > change. You discover that Christianity is not something doughy, > passive, pious, and soft. Faith may be the substance of things hoped > for, the evidence of things not seen. But it also draws you into a > world shorn of fearful caution. The life of belief teems with > thrills, boldness, danger, shocks, reversals, triumphs, and > epiphanies. Think of , traipsing through the known world and > contemplating trips to what must have seemed the antipodes (Spain), > shaking the dust from his sandals, worrying not about the morrow, but > only about the moment.> > There's nothing wilder than a life of humble virtue, for it is > through selflessness and service that God wrings from our bodies and > spirits the most we ever could give, the most we ever could offer, > and the most we ever could do. > > Finally, we can let love change everything. When Jesus was faced with > the prospect of crucifixion, he grieved not for himself, but for us. > He cried for Jerusalem before entering the holy city. From the Cross, > he took on the cumulative burden of human sin and weakness, and > begged for forgiveness on our behalf. > > We get repeated chances to learn that life is not about us, that we > acquire purpose and satisfaction by sharing in God's love for others. > Sickness gets us part way there. It reminds us of our limitations and > dependence. But it also gives us a chance to serve the healthy. A > minister friend of mine observes that people suffering grave > afflictions often acquire the faith of two people, while loved ones > accept the burden of two people's worries and fears. > > 'Learning How to Live'. Most of us have watched friends as they > drifted toward God's arms, not with resignation, but with peace and > hope. In so doing, they have taught us not how to die, but how to > live. They have emulated Christ by transmitting the power and > authority of love. > > I sat by my best friend's bedside a few years ago as a wasting cancer > took him away. He kept at his table a worn Bible and a 1928 edition > of the Book of Common Prayer. A shattering grief disabled his family, > many of his old friends, and at least one priest. Here was an humble > and very good guy, someone who apologized when he winced with pain > because he thought it made his guest uncomfortable. He retained his > equanimity and good humor literally until his last conscious > moment. 'I'm going to try to beat [this cancer],' he told me several > months before he died. 'But if I don't, I'll see you on the other > side.' > > His gift was to remind everyone around him that even though God > doesn't promise us tomorrow, he does promise us eternity – filled > with life and love we cannot comprehend – and that one can in the > throes of sickness point the rest of us toward timeless truths that > will help us weather future storms. > > Through such trials, God bids us to choose: Do we believe, or do we > not? Will we be bold enough to love, daring enough to serve, humble > enough to submit, and strong enough to acknowledge our limitations? > Can we surrender our concern in things that don't matter so that we > might devote our remaining days to things that do? > > When our faith flags, he throws reminders in our way. Think of the > prayer warriors in our midst. They change things, and those of us who > have been on the receiving end of their petitions and intercessions > know it. It is hard to describe, but there are times when suddenly > the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you feel a surge of > the Spirit. Somehow you just know: Others have chosen, when talking > to the Author of all creation, to lift us up, to speak of us! > > This is love of a very special order. But so is the ability to sit > back and appreciate the wonder of every created thing. The mere > thought of death somehow makes every blessing vivid, every happiness > more luminous and intense. We may not know how our contest with > sickness will end, but we have felt the ineluctable touch of God. > > What is man that Thou art mindful of him? We don't know much, but we > know this: No matter where we are, no matter what we do, no matter > how bleak or frightening our prospects, each and every one of us who > believe, each and every day, lies in the same safe and impregnable > place, in the hollow of God's hand.' > > T. Snow> > ____________ _________ _________ _________ _________ _________ _> Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted July 27, 2008 Report Share Posted July 27, 2008 Thanks for posting this Tony. When Tony Snow name was mentionned on CNN, he had cancer. I was trying to remember where I had heard that name before and when they showed a picture of him and some of his work. I remembered, I used to watch him on CNN, when he was giving press conferences. I was also deeply saddenned when I had turned it on CNN a few weeks before to see Breaking News Senator Kennedy was suffering from a brain tumor. When we used to watch news with Jennings. The tv at exactly 6:29pm had to be on channel 22 and during commercials you weren't allowed to change the channel. Even though I don't live in the US, some of this people have been on our tv screen for a long time. IrenePF 03/07 Raynaud's Disease 09/07Crohn's Disease 03/95 Asthma 02/92 Yhis says it all> > > This is something pretty out standing whether or not, Tony Snow wrote > it! Very lengthy but very well written! > Ed~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~This is outstanding > testimony from Tony Snow, President Bush's Press Secretary, and his > fight with cancer. Commentator and broadcaster Tony Snow announced > that he had colon cancer in 2005. Following surgery and chemotherapy, > Snow joined the Bush Administration in April 2006 as press secretary. > Unfortunately, on March 23, 2007, Snow, 51, a husband and father of > three, announced the cancer had recurred, with tumors found in his > abdomen, leading to surgery in April, followed by more chemotherapy. > Snow went back to work in the White House Briefing Room on May 30, > but has resigned since, 'for economic reasons,' and to pursue 'other > interests'. It needs little intro...it speaks for itself.> ------------ --------- --------- --------- --------- --------- -> > 'Blessings arrive in unexpected packages – in my case, cancer. Those > of us with potentially fatal diseases – and there are millions in > America today – find ourselves in the odd position of coping with our > mortality while trying to fathom God's will. Although it would be the > height of presumption to declare with confidence 'What It All Means,' > Scripture provides powerful hints and consolations.> > The first is that we shouldn't spend too much time trying to answer > the 'why' questions: Why me? Why must people suffer? Why can't > someone else get sick? We can't answer such things, and the questions > themselves often are designed more to express our anguish than to > solicit an answer. > > I don't know why I have cancer, and I don't much care. It is what it > is, a plain and indisputable fact. Yet even while staring into a > mirror darkly, great and stunning truths begin to take shape. Our > maladies define a central feature of our existence: We are fallen. We > are imperfect. Our bodies give out. > > But despite this, or because of it, God offers the possibility of > salvation and grace. We don't know how the narrative of our lives > will end, but we get to choose how to use the interval between now > and the moment we meet our Creator face-to-face. > > Second, we need to get past the anxiety. The mere thought of dying > can send adrenaline flooding through your system. A dizzy, unfocused > panic seizes you. Your heart thumps; your head swims. You think of > nothingness and swoon. You fear partings; you worry about the impact > on family and friends. You fidget and get nowhere.> > To regain footing, remember that we were born not into death, but > into life, and that the journey continues after we have finished our > days on this earth. We accept this on faith, but that faith is > nourished by a conviction that stirs even within many non-believing > hearts – an intuition that the gift of life, once given, cannot be > taken away. Those who have been stricken enjoy the special privilege > of being able to fight with their might, main, and faith to live > fully, richly, exuberantly – no matter how their days may be > numbered. > > Third, we can open our eyes and hearts. God relishes surprise. We > want lives of simple, predictable ease – smooth, even trails as far > as the eye can see; but God likes to go off-road. He provokes us with > twists and turns. He places us in predicaments that seem to defy our > endurance; and comprehension – and yet don't. By His love and grace, > we persevere. The challenges that make our hearts leap and stomachs > churn invariably strengthen our faith and grant measures of wisdom > and joy we would not experience otherwise. > > 'You Have Been Called'. Picture yourself in a hospital bed. The fog > of anesthesia has begun to wear away. A doctor stands at your feet; a > loved one holds your hand at the side. 'It's cancer,' the healer > announces. > > The natural reaction is to turn to God and ask him to serve as a > cosmic Santa. 'Dear God, make it all go away. Make everything > simpler.' But another voice whispers: 'You have been called.' Your > quandary has drawn you closer to God, closer to those you love, > closer to the issues that matter, and has dragged into insignificance > the banal concerns that occupy our 'normal time.' > > There's another kind of response, although usually short-lived an > inexplicable shudder of excitement, as if a clarifying moment of > calamity has swept away everything trivial and tiny, and placed > before us the challenge of important questions. > > The moment you enter the Valley of the Shadow of Death, things > change. You discover that Christianity is not something doughy, > passive, pious, and soft. Faith may be the substance of things hoped > for, the evidence of things not seen. But it also draws you into a > world shorn of fearful caution. The life of belief teems with > thrills, boldness, danger, shocks, reversals, triumphs, and > epiphanies. Think of , traipsing through the known world and > contemplating trips to what must have seemed the antipodes (Spain), > shaking the dust from his sandals, worrying not about the morrow, but > only about the moment.> > There's nothing wilder than a life of humble virtue, for it is > through selflessness and service that God wrings from our bodies and > spirits the most we ever could give, the most we ever could offer, > and the most we ever could do. > > Finally, we can let love change everything. When Jesus was faced with > the prospect of crucifixion, he grieved not for himself, but for us. > He cried for Jerusalem before entering the holy city. From the Cross, > he took on the cumulative burden of human sin and weakness, and > begged for forgiveness on our behalf. > > We get repeated chances to learn that life is not about us, that we > acquire purpose and satisfaction by sharing in God's love for others. > Sickness gets us part way there. It reminds us of our limitations and > dependence. But it also gives us a chance to serve the healthy. A > minister friend of mine observes that people suffering grave > afflictions often acquire the faith of two people, while loved ones > accept the burden of two people's worries and fears. > > 'Learning How to Live'. Most of us have watched friends as they > drifted toward God's arms, not with resignation, but with peace and > hope. In so doing, they have taught us not how to die, but how to > live. They have emulated Christ by transmitting the power and > authority of love. > > I sat by my best friend's bedside a few years ago as a wasting cancer > took him away. He kept at his table a worn Bible and a 1928 edition > of the Book of Common Prayer. A shattering grief disabled his family, > many of his old friends, and at least one priest. Here was an humble > and very good guy, someone who apologized when he winced with pain > because he thought it made his guest uncomfortable. He retained his > equanimity and good humor literally until his last conscious > moment. 'I'm going to try to beat [this cancer],' he told me several > months before he died. 'But if I don't, I'll see you on the other > side.' > > His gift was to remind everyone around him that even though God > doesn't promise us tomorrow, he does promise us eternity – filled > with life and love we cannot comprehend – and that one can in the > throes of sickness point the rest of us toward timeless truths that > will help us weather future storms. > > Through such trials, God bids us to choose: Do we believe, or do we > not? Will we be bold enough to love, daring enough to serve, humble > enough to submit, and strong enough to acknowledge our limitations? > Can we surrender our concern in things that don't matter so that we > might devote our remaining days to things that do? > > When our faith flags, he throws reminders in our way. Think of the > prayer warriors in our midst. They change things, and those of us who > have been on the receiving end of their petitions and intercessions > know it. It is hard to describe, but there are times when suddenly > the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you feel a surge of > the Spirit. Somehow you just know: Others have chosen, when talking > to the Author of all creation, to lift us up, to speak of us! > > This is love of a very special order. But so is the ability to sit > back and appreciate the wonder of every created thing. The mere > thought of death somehow makes every blessing vivid, every happiness > more luminous and intense. We may not know how our contest with > sickness will end, but we have felt the ineluctable touch of God.. > > What is man that Thou art mindful of him? We don't know much, but we > know this: No matter where we are, no matter what we do, no matter > how bleak or frightening our prospects, each and every one of us who > believe, each and every day, lies in the same safe and impregnable > place, in the hollow of God's hand.' > > T. Snow> > ____________ _________ _________ _________ _________ _________ _> Yahoo! Canada Toolbar : Search from anywhere on the web and bookmark your favourite sites. Download it now! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Join the conversation
You are posting as a guest. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.