The endocrinologist called this week concerning the thyroid situation.  After consultation with the doctor at Mayo Clinic, they determined that the best plan was to watch and wait.  Another biopsy is scheduled prior to the intended stem cell transplant.   I took that to be positive news.
     I’ve tried to write these blogs only when the Spirit has moved.  As cherished as sleep has been, He moved in the middle of the night.  I got up and obeyed.
     The call of God covers a wide spectrum.  Every unbeliever is called to come to Jesus.  It is not His will that any should perish, but all come to everlasting life.
     There is the call for every disciple to come, deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Jesus.
     Within that discipleship there are special callings for blessing and service.  Some are called to be teachers, servants, etc.
     I do believe there is a calling by God on certain individuals that is a deeper call to ministry.  I sensed that call on my life when I was just 17.  God confirmed that call as I was reading one of Paul’s writings when he wrote, “Woe is me if I do not preach the gospel.”
     I had no interest in a woe from God, but I had little innately that qualified me to preach.   Nervous wouldn’t be close to the ballpark of how I felt the evening of the first sermon I preached.  I still remember backing from the pulpit and saying to God, “You have chosen the wrong guy.”
     I sensed a moving that night of the Holy Spirit that I have sensed most every time I have stood to speak for Jesus since then.  Pretty much every Sunday I pray a similar prayer that says, “Lord, unless you come, I have nothing to offer.”
     God has always called people to get across His plan.  Noah, Abraham, Moses, the prophets, the 12, Paul, and countless servants over the centuries.
     God’s calling isn’t for privilege, it is for responsibility.  God didn’t call me because I was special; He called me because there was something He wanted me to do.
     What precipitated this blog was a breakfast that I had with a dear friend whom I met in a ministry several years ago.  I love him dearly and have had a Paul to Timothy relationship with him.
     He has the complete package.  Handsome, very bright, servant’s heart, and a love for Jesus and others.  His was a promising life, living out God’s special call to ministry.
     But life took a downward turn.  A ministry ended and in my mind he chose to pursue some things of this world instead of the things of God.  Some bad decisions on his part and on others led to a breakup in his marriage and the loss of the closeness with his kids.
     He is about at rock bottom as a person can get. 
     I got a text from him that I sensed was a leading by God for me to meet with him.  God very specifically gave me a message to share with him.
     We shared together, mostly him sharing what was going on in his life.  My heart broke for what he is going through.  As we neared the end of the time that I knew we had before he had to go to work, the Spirit says to me, “Share my word to him.”
     In some way I felt like the prophet Nathan who was sent to King David after David’s sin. 
     Here was God’s word to this man who had such a promising life of ministry.  “God has not rescinded His call on your life.  Paul says in Romans that the call of God is irrevocable.   God is not done with you.  I don’t know when.  I don’t know how.  I don’t know where.  God’s word to you today from me is that God hasn’t given up on you and neither have I.”
     I could tell by the look on his face that he was taken back by God’s word to him.  He obviously didn’t have anything to say in response.  Just a look back to me that I knew he had heard God’s voice, maybe for the first time in quite some time.  And what I saw, in just a very slight glimmer in his eyes, was a maybe a hope that was born again.
     Failure does not disqualify us from the call of God on our lives.  Sometimes God can use the failure redemptively to help others see His great love and grace.  It is often those who experience that grace who are able to come along side of others and offer the same path to the grace they have found.
     In God’s time I pray that will be God’s plan for my dear brother.   I do not believe that God is finished with him, but I am praying that He will use the rock bottom experience of life to help prepare him for what I pray will someday come: the restoration of God’s call on his life. 
     After his denials, Peter experienced that restoration of Jesus’ calling on his life one morning on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. God was not finished with him.
     May I live out my calling today, Lord, whatever that looks like in my life.  Maybe even to write a blog in the middle of the night. 

     Seven is a very good number.  There are over 400 references to seven in the Bible.  Seven is considered a holy, a complete number.
     The seven days of creation come first to our minds.  The Sabbath is the seventh day.
     The Israelites marched around Jericho for seven days, then on the seventh day they marched seven times around the city and then shouted seven times and the walls came tumbling down.
     The Passover lasted seven days.
     The leper Naaman dipped in the Jordan River seven times before he was healed.
     There are seven churches mentioned in the Book of Revelation, along with seven spirits, seven golden lampstands, seven seals, seven horns, seven eyes, seven angels with seven trumpets, seven plagues, and seven golden bowls.
     Seven.  For the first time on one of the nights after taking steroids I slept seven hours last night.  I wouldn’t say it was holy or complete, but it sure was a blessing.
     One of the things that cancer teaches is to be thankful for the small blessings that come, some of them daily.  I often fail to see those small blessings that come from the hand of God.  I will be cognizant to look for them today.

     Having sympathy for another person is one thing; being able to empathize with them is another.  Sympathy for and empathy with.  To empathize with another person is a deeper feeling.
     Sympathy has the potential to take us deep.  Among several tragedies that happened this week, I saw that a 20-year-old was killed when a rock was thrown into her car window.  My heart ached for her family.  But only a person who has experienced the death of a child could empathize with her family.
     On a far less emotional level, I am beginning to have some empathy with others who are having/have had chemotherapy coupled with steroids.  Before I could sympathize for them, but now I somewhat understand their plight.
     Steroids do two things to me.  They wire me and they make me hungry.  I have slept very little while I have been on them and this week has started as a repeat of last week.  That means that I am up most of the night and I am hungry at the same time. 
     The chemotherapy, maybe mixed with the hormone treatment, is expected to do two things: fatigue and loss of appetite. 
     What I found after the steroids wore off (I am on five days and off two days) is that the fatigue came, but instead of having a loss of appetite, I had the urge to eat all day long because I thought that the eating would give me some energy that I didn’t have. 
     I see the potential for the double-edged sword for folks on steroids and chemotherapy.  The doctors don’t want me to lose weight nor gain weight.  Strawberries might have to be the plan instead of Reese Cups and ice cream.
     All of us have circumstances in our lives where sympathy is as far as we can go.  In some we can empathize.  I pray for a willing heart for both as I am able.
     I don’t claim in any way to be a Greek student, must less a scholar.  But as I pondered over some things in the middle of the night, I couldn’t help but think about that passage in Hebrews 4:15 that says, “we have a High Priest who is able to understand our weaknesses because He was tempted in every way that we are, except without sin.”
     Does that mean that He is able to sympathize for us or empathize with us?   Before I did a bit of studying, I thought that surely the Father and the Son look down from heaven and have sympathy on their creation and the hardships that we often face.  Love and compassion may be God’s greatest attributes.
     Even more after living in this world as a human man, I could see Jesus now being able to look back from heaven and sympathizing for us in our weaknesses and struggles.
     The Greek word is sympathēsai that is found only here in the New Testament.  Obviously we get our word sympathy from this Greek word.
     I found it interesting that Greek scholars who have translated this word in Hebrews 4:15 are split between translating the word sympathize or empathize, though most on the former.
     Here is my take for what it is worth.  I believe that Jesus was able to sympathize with our weakness while He lived in this world, but He could never empathize with our failures and sin and alienation from God.  
     Until the Cross.  Everything changed when Jesus died on the Cross.   Before the Cross He could only sympathize with Peter’s denials or even the betrayal of Judas, but on the Cross Jesus was then able to empathize with sinners.  He who knew no sin became sin, our sin and the sins of every sinner, when He died at Calvary.
     It appears to me that both translations would be on target.  Jesus does sympathize for us, but even more deeply, He empathizes with us because He does understand.  He understands our failures, our sins, our alienation from the Father.  That is an understanding that heaven never knew until Jesus died, rose again, and ascended.
     Now He knows.  No wonder He can help us.

     I have a good one.  That could be construed to go in a lot of different directions.
     Jesus said to the Rich Young Ruler that there is no one good except God alone.  Goodness is one of the marks of our Heavenly Father.
     So far, today has been a good one.  Almost “nine hours” of sleep in 2-3 hour intervals last night.  I finally had to get up because my back was hurting from lying in bed so long.   The wall yesterday that morphed into a dense fog most of the day is more penetrable today, though not totally gone. 
     I could say a good one in terms of my wife, my kids, most of the things in my life, etc.  There are lots of people who are good to me.  I try to never expect that nor fail to be grateful for that.
     The good one I have today is the nurse who is taking care of me.  I would take her every time, but the Cancer Center doesn’t take requests.
     She has a heart for cancer patients.  She has worked as an oncology nurse for 16 years, except one eight-month stretch.  Her heart was in oncology and she returned to the Cancer Center.  To protect her, I will call her CCN.  Some smart folks have figured out that is an acronym for Cancer Center Nurse.   I am such a creative thinker.
     CCN has qualities that make her an excellent nurse.  She is competent and highly skilled.  I can tell by her actions that everything is going to be done correctly.   She inserted the IV on the first stick and it was less painful than normal.  I thought that the only issue was that she put the IV in the hairy part of my arm.  Later she knew how to take it out with little pain from the hair.
     CCN has an empathy about her that is easily detected.  Maybe she has worked here long enough to understand some of what her patients are feeling.
     I felt like I was the only patient that she had.  For lots of the morning I was, but I think I would have felt that way anyway.
     She is gentle.  I like gentle nurses.
     And she has a very sweet spirit.  My guess is that she is a believer.   She has much of the likeness of Jesus in her.
     Caregivers are vitally important in the healing process.  Simply administering the correct dose is far from a good caregiver’s calling. 
     The world would be a much brighter place if every Christian would see their calling as a place to serve others with the gentleness of Jesus.
     Thank you, Lord, for a good one, a really good one today.

     It finally came.  I hit the wall about midway through Sunday afternoon.  No steroids were in the regimen on Sunday morning and the feeling was just like the expression, it was like hitting a wall that I didn’t see.
     I knew it had to come with what little sleep I had had in five days.  A long nap, supper, and off to bed.  Sleeping is still a challenge. 
     Today the wall hasn’t eased much. 
     After my second nap I began to ponder.  Was Jesus ever physically ill?  Did He have childhood diseases or a headache?  Would He get sick if He ate spoiled meat from a roadside vendor when in Jerusalem? The Bible is intentionally silent on those issues.
     Illness and sin have some ties, but illness in itself isn’t a sin.  I don’t have cancer because I am a bigger sinner than someone who is healthy.
     Hebrews 2:17 says this: For this reason he had to be made like them, fully human in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people.
     Fully human in every way.  I am not sure anyone can grasp the full significance of that. 
     What I do believe is that physically Jesus hit the wall from time to time.  All three Synoptic Gospels tell the story of Jesus being in a boat with the disciples.  A great storm swept down on the Sea of Galilee and Jesus was asleep in the front of the boat.  Fearing that they would drown, the disciples woke, yes, had to wake up Jesus.  Even a storm didn’t waken Him. 
     In that same account Mark says the disciples took Jesus into the boat “just as He was.”  That may be telling.
     John tells us that Jesus was tired from the journey to Samaria.  Often Jesus got away from the crowds because He was exhausted.
     I can see that the wall is likely to be an ongoing issue.  How do I get beyond it?  My natural tendency would be to keep running into it.  I might try to be sneaky and run around it.  Maybe I will lie down and hope it goes away.
     It looks to me that this whole ordeal could be considered a wall.  It’s a wall to face.  Walls can either isolate us or protect us.  Or impede us.
     In the 18th Psalm David is celebrating his deliverance from Saul.  Two verses spoke to me:
28
You, Lord, keep my lamp burning;
    my God turns my darkness into light.
29
With your help I can advance against the enemy,
    with my God I can scale a wall.
 
     Scaling the wall might be down the road a bit.  With God’s help I intend to scale this wall.   For today, maybe facing the wall is the first way to begin to deal with it.
     I must admit, I feel better now than when I started writing. 

     Church was good this morning.   I am preaching for a few weeks on the peace in my heart.  From the start of this chapter in my life I have written that there has been a peace that has been constant.
     It doesn’t mean that I don’t have moments of concern.  IV sticks are never pleasant, except the one I had years ago before surgery at Mayo Clinic.  They said, “We will wait until you are under and then stick you.”  Not an option right now, for which I am thankful!
     I have found that often when the nurse or assistant calls to share test results, it is often good or okay news.  Sometimes, but not always, when the doctor calls it is often more significant.
     When the endocrinologist called late in the week to give me the news that the additional tests on the thyroid were inconclusive, I wasn’t surprised when I heard her voice.  The three options would be to watch and wait, which isn’t an option like it might usually be.  That leaves another deeper biopsy or removal of the lesion.
     My suggestion to her was to call the doctor at Mayo Clinic and let them determine the next step.  She then said something that has never been a descriptor of me.  She said, “As complex as your situation is, I think that would be the best idea.”
     I have never been considered to be complex.  I am pretty much a simple man.  What you see is what you get.  I seek to be the same in the pulpit as I am on Monday morning.  I might be multidimensional with all the areas of my life.  But not complex.  Most of the time I am pretty easy to figure out.
     She, however, is right on target when it comes to what is going on with me physically.  Complex may not even be a strong enough word.
     Figuring out the treatment plan for the myeloma is complex enough.  Which pill, how many, which treatment, which day.  How the doctors have figured out that plan is beyond me.
     Add to that the concern with my thyroid just exacerbates the complexity.
     And lest I forget, I am still in treatment for the prostate cancer. 
     All of that is working, not so much in conjunction with each other, but with its own agenda.
     I was speaking with a friend yesterday who is also fighting prostate cancer.  He is on a similar hormone treatment.  I was telling him about lying awake at night and feeling hot.  He knew the feeling.    The side effects of the different treatments go in varying directions.  The steroids do one thing, the hormone treatment and chemo may do the opposite.
     Complex.  It’s above my head.  All I can do is trust.
     In some ways I am an enigma to others when I see them.  No one knows what to expect.  One person said to me this morning, “You look better than I feel.”  That brought a smile that was a good way to start the day. 
     Somewhere in this I had to make some application.  Simple on the one hand but complex on the other.  I see that truth in the plan of God.  I am thankful that He made the treatment plan for our spiritual illness far simpler than the treatment plan I am in.
     His plan is so simple that a child can understand God’s great love for us in sending His One and Only Son into this world to heal us of the cancer of our sin.
     At the same time the Bible is such a marvelously composed book that no one can nor ever will grasp all of its complexities.  There is always more to learn, always something new for our minds and hearts to understand.
     What a great God we serve.  Simple at our greatest point of need but complex enough to keep us fascinated.

     I thought I’d write a short blog to an update.  After two chemotherapy treatments I couldn’t ask for things to go any better than they have so far.
     After a rather tough first night, the last three days have been about as normal as I could hope. 
     I have been told that the third day after chemo can sometimes be the worst.  Depending on how you count, that could either be Thursday or Friday.  Maybe I can’t count or shouldn’t count and take each day as it comes.
     The third day comes home to all of us without thinking.  Just the title for today’s blog brings to our minds the culmination of the most important event in history when Jesus died on Friday and rose on the third day, just as He said He would.
     It would behoove me to focus on the third day that matters.
     As I had expected, sleeping is a premium with the steroids.  What I didn’t anticipate was how hungry I’d be—far more than I usually am!
     I did get an update on the thyroid biopsy.  There is still no definitive word.  The doctor in Lexington is consulting with the doctor at Mayo Clinic to determine the next step. 
     I was blessed last evening by two CeCe wannabes by a Karaoke singing of “Goodness of God.”  Just a big smile on Paw Paw’s face on this one.

     Here’s an early morning update.  At the beginning of round two of this bout it appeared that Steroids had the upper hand and Chemo Drugs were cowering in their corner. 
     There are lots of ways for boxers to fight.  Chemo Drugs didn’t cower long.  In just a few hours at 12:30 a.m. he came out swinging. Some of the usual symptoms of chemotherapy have shown up as we had expected. 
     I am glad I listened to my body yesterday evening and was able to scratch so many things off my list.
     If you’ve read many of these blogs you know I have a lot of trouble being a receiver rather than a giver.  It is more humbling than I can express the way that so many people have been givers to us through this. 
     My mom was the best giver I have known in my life.  She was also the worst receiver.   And the worst for her was when the giver was one of her children. 
     Her DNA was passed on to me.
     One of the toughest things for me is for my kids to spend money on me.  I can’t imagine going to a restaurant and them paying for the meal.  Neither could my mom.  Maybe in one of these blogs I will tell a story about one experience with her.
     We get out of church on Sunday and Megan and Bryan pull out a present for me from the back of their car.  It’s not a birthday or Christmas, so it’s even more humbling.  It was a “hope this helps you get through this dad” present. 
     With the help of two granddaughters (there was no ice cream involved to draw in the third one) I opened the present.  It was a “picture” of words from one of the songs that they knew has meant a lot to me during this illness.
     In large letters across the bottom of the picture are the words “Goodness of God.”
     On the picture are the words to the chorus of “Goodness of God.”  The chorus is: “All my life you have been faithful.  All my life you have been so, so good.  With every breath that I am able, I will sing of the goodness of God.”
I got this lump in my throat as I read the words.
     I have sung that chorus many times over the last few months.  I have sung it in worship more than once.  I could sing it every Sunday and not grow tired of singing it.
     I have sung it in the Explorer as I have driven.  I sang it quietly in the motel room in Rochester with ear buds so the folks in the next room wouldn’t hear the music from the computer.
     I have sung it standing on our dock at the lake with a big lump in my throat.  As I write this I am singing it in my mind with that same lump in my throat.  
     Men my age prefer to use the phrase “a lump in my throat.”
     “With every breath that I am able, I will sing of the goodness of God.”  It is more than words to a song.  It is how I intended to live the rest of my life.  With every breath that I am able, I will sing of the goodness of God.  Some breaths in this may be more difficult than others.
     God has been faithful all my life.  He has been so good.  I am blessed beyond measure with more than anyone needs of this world’s things.  I have a marvelous wife and two wonderful kids and five grandkids.  I’d better not forget those two sons-in-law.
     I have two sisters who are two of my biggest encouragers. 
I have a church that has stood by me and believed in me and is returning to me what I have given to them over the years. 
       As I read the last chapters of some of Paul’s letters, instead of seeing all the names listed as boring reading, I realize how many friends and brothers and sisters Paul had.  I could write a “last chapter” of so many people who mean more to me than life itself.  Maybe someday I will.
       How else could I respond, even in what may be the toughest crucible of my life than in this way: “With every breath that I am able, I will sing of the goodness of God.”
       I have that lump in my throat as I sing it along with CeCe Winans again this morning on the computer.  I don’t care if the neighbors can hear or not.
       Thanks, Megan and Bryan, for being a tool in the hand of God.
 
Corollary. I wrote the main part of this blog on Monday night and sent it to Megan on Tuesday morning, just in case that today the Chemo Drugs would come out fighting and I wouldn’t feel like writing.  Just after I sent the email I looked at my phone and I had received a text from Megan.  That text included a video of Becca singing from memory the complete chorus to “Goodness of God.”  It is more than precious. They had done it the night before but hadn’t sent it, just like I had done with the blog.  After the text Megan looked at her email and this blog post was in her email.  You just can’t make this stuff up.
       As I watched Becca singing I honestly don’t know if I was laughing or crying.  I am not sure that I have ever laughed with a lump in my throat, but it is possible.

     I am sorry this post is late.  It was an absolutely beautiful day and when we got home from the hospital I didn’t want to sit.  I had been for most of the day.
     Against my desire Teresa accompanied me.  I would have been fine as it turned out.  Then again, I do what she says.  Most of you already know that.
     The treatment today was about as tolerable as I could have hoped.  It took a couple of sticks for the IV and the one that hit was pretty uncomfortable.  That was the worst pain of the day.
     Here’s a quick recap.  I already had five steroid pills at home to start the day, but I was given more.  The IV was for Benadryl and a med to help with the nausea.  That took about half an hour and then I had to wait for an hour after those meds had finished. 
     After that hour I received both chemotherapy meds by injection, plus another IV med to strengthen my bones.  One of the injections took almost 15 minutes.  The nurse had a steady hand injecting “molasses textured” medicine for that long.
     To make sure that I wouldn’t have a reaction to this first injection I had to wait two hours before we could leave.  All in all we were there a bit under five hours.
     I would sign on the dotted line right now if all the treatments would go as well as today.  The Baptist Health nursing staff was marvelous.  Sunshine checked me in.  While I was being weighed she walked by and said to the tech, “Keep an eye of this one.”
     We stopped for a late lunch at some cowboy restaurant because someone knew there was a special before 5 p.m.  I believe the steroids were kicking in because I was starving.
     I am told that the nausea would likely happen on the third day.   That remains to be seen.   I have had none so far.
     When we got home I gave some thought to sliding the boat in the water but thought I’d not have enough time.
     I decided to try to finish some of that “get it done just in case list.”  It was a bit productive.  I burned two piles of brush, dug up a dead rose bush, picked up some sticks in the yard, worked on my fishing rods, did some weed eating, helped Teresa vacuum the spa room, and got the end of a stump removed (it was already cut!) 
       Teresa had only one comment.  “Oh, no, Chuck Cooper on steroids.”
       I think the downer will come when the chemo meds kick in.  For day one at least the steroids had the upper hand.
       Thanks for your prayers.  I have no doubt that they greatly impacted the day.

     I have experienced the truth of the Word of God in this journey.  Maybe at the apex is that Romans 8:28 has been seen in more ways than I could have imagined.
     God does work in all circumstances to bring about His good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.  His ultimate purpose is to draw us to Him so that He can fashion us into the likeness of His Son.
     Nothing does that more than the difficult times in our lives. 
     Only the power of God can bring anything good from cancer.  The most obvious good is that illness and struggles cause us to turn to God.
     A second good that God brings through cancer is that it brings you face to face with your mortality.  I think one of the good things cancer brought to me 22 years ago was that I began to cherish every day because each day is a gift from God.  I still do, maybe more so now.
     God can also use cancer to open doors that I could never have opened.  Some people are reading the blogs who’ve never heard me preach.  God has opened doors with some customers and others for me to share with them that would never have been opened.
     I see the truth of God’s Word in this far more than the promise of Romans 8:28. 
I saw some of God’s truth yesterday afternoon.  Well, actually I felt it more than I saw it.  That’s when God’s Word comes home to us.  When we see a truth with our minds and then experience it in our hearts.
     I was texting yesterday with someone who is going through a very similar circumstance in her life.  There is something about being in the “C” club that has a way of drawing you together.  It is far more than “misery loves company.”
     I had come from my second hour of being “educated” on when the treatments would be, when to take what pills, and mostly what the potential side effects would likely be.
     It’s one thing to listen to a medical person read 5-6 pages.  It’s another to hear someone who has been in the middle of it give me some insight.
     Here is the truth of the Word that I experienced firsthand.  Jesus promised the Disciples that He would not leave them alone, that He would send the Holy Spirit to reside in their hearts.
     He told them that He would send them “another” Counselor or Comforter or Helper to be with them forever.   The word Jesus used comes from two words in the original that mean called and to come along side.  The Holy Spirit is the One who is called to come along side of us to help us.
     Paul picks up this truth and transforms it.  He writes in 2 Corinthians 1 these words:
     “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”
     Paul uses the same words that Jesus spoke to the Disciples.  As God has come along side of us through the Spirit to help us, so we are to come along side others to help bring them comfort.
     I have often been the one who has been called along side of others to bring them comfort.  Yesterday I was the receiver.  Someone came along side of me and brought me comfort because she had experienced the Lord coming along side of her to help her.
     The truth that I have known for a long time in my mind lodged in my heart.
     That Romans 8:28 promise actually is true.  It will be put to the test again today as I begin the treatments.