This week I spent some time giving thanks to God for so many things.  I will share some of those on Sunday when I return to a weekly preaching schedule for the first time since late August.  It has been a challenging three months to say the least.  I hope that tomorrow will be a day of rejoicing and thanksgiving.
     Our house is settling.  No joke on this one.  After 20 years the west end of our house is sinking.  We have stairstep cracks in the bricks on the outside and cracks in some places in the drywall on the inside.
     I have had three estimates on shoring up the foundation and will have a fourth estimate this week.  By the end of this coming week I hope to have a contractor scheduled to do the work.
     It will be an extensive job.  It looks like we will need 12 piers.  It will also be an expensive job.
     What would cause a house to begin to settle after 20 years?  Because of the slope of the land there was considerable fill on the back of the house and the west end of the house.  That may have played a part.
     After hearing the opinions of three experts, it appears that the dryness of 2023 might be the major culprit. 
     When I think about foundation issues, I usually think of water related damage.  Overflowing gutters or a poor slope of the landscape to name a couple.
     I didn’t realize that the shrinking of the soil during a dry spell could be such an issue. Apparently it is.
     Our houses are only as strong as the foundations on which our houses are built.  It is an easy application for our lives.
     We sing the words from the old hymn “on Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand, all other ground is sinking sand.”
     Much like our house, I have seen people whose lives were lived on the solid rock of Christ Jesus for maybe 10, 15, or 20 years or longer.  But then I have seen something change.  The foundation of their lives seems to be giving way.  There are cracks in areas that used to be strong and beautiful.
     What might cause a person’s spiritual foundation to weaken?  Maybe the circumstances of life.  Maybe some great trial or trouble.
     Or maybe, just maybe, something that isn’t easily detectable.  It happens so slowly over time.
     Spiritual dryness.
     We get away from the Master.  Other things take His place.  The relationship that we once had that was strong and vital has become weak.
       The fountain of the Spirit that once flowed has dried up. 
     What I know from the estimates on our house is that it is quite costly to restore the foundation.
       Though God’s grace is freely given to us, our relationship with Him always comes at a cost to us.  To follow Jesus means to deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow Him.
     With our house it is more costly to repair the foundation than to build it originally.  Teresa and I know that we have no other choice than to pay the cost to repair the foundation. 
     I think the same is true for some folks spiritually.  The cost to restore the sweetness of the Spirit’s Presence may very well be costly. 
    Returning to the fellowship after being away comes with some embarrassment.   Returning to God comes with the call to be willing to fully submit our lives to Him.
     But like our house, the spiritual repair is worth it.
      Lord, there are arid times in my relationship with You that are a part of living on this side of glory.  The rain of the Spirit isn’t a constant.   But Lord, help me to never let those dry times become the pattern of my life. 
     Send Your rain.  Help me keep my foundation on the Rock. 

      It has been two months since I had the shortest haircut since I was a boy, so I was getting shaggy.  Friday when I walked into the salon I was greeted by the stylist.  Jewel took me next because I had signed in on the way through the app on my phone. 
      As I sat in the chair I showed her the scar from the thyroid surgery.  I wanted to be sure that the snaps on the cape would be above the scar.  It was apparent that I had cancer.
      I asked her about her name.  Jewel was the name given to her at birth by her dad.  That started a conversation that lasted the length of the haircut, mostly about her dad.
      It never ceases to amaze me how God has a way of putting people into our paths.
      The conversation that we had about her dad was more than uncanny.  I couldn’t have scripted it.
      Jewel shared about her dad in the past tense.  He had passed away 15 years ago of cancer.  Ironically of sarcoma.  His cancer didn’t respond to chemotherapy, which 15 years ago was the case with sarcomas. 
      I was offered chemotherapy 22 years ago after having the sarcoma removed from my leg.  I was told that chemotherapy would give me only a 5% chance of living longer.  I declined. 
      Jewel talked about her dad’s long, beautiful hair.  When the doctors told him that he was facing chemotherapy for the cancer, he asked Jewel to shave his head.
       When he had surgery the cancer was determined to be so extensive that the doctors realized that chemotherapy would have no effect.  He could have kept his hair.
       Somehow you just can’t make these things up.   The next haircut that I get after a short haircut because I thought I would lose my hair from chemotherapy I end up in this dear lady’s chair.  I obviously shared the story with her that I considered doing the same thing as her dad, only to find out a few hours later that I wouldn’t have the stem cell transplant after all.
       I am not sure if the “chance” encounter was for Jewel’s benefit or for mine.  The wound was still an open one for her and her memories vivid.  By the time she unsnapped the cape she had some comfort that someone understood and cared.
       I had the same feeling.
       Her dad was right when she was born.  She is a Jewel.

      I am looking forward to preaching on Sunday.  Though my voice isn’t back to 100%, I am counting on that in my weakness, He will be strong.
      God speaks in lots of ways.  He speaks through creation.  He speaks through His Word.  He speaks through His Spirit.  He speaks through circumstances.
      Yesterday He spoke very unexpectedly through a dear lady.
      We have a customer who owns a small store about eight miles out of Frankfort.  It isn’t cost effective for us to send a driver out and back because of how little they usually purchase. 
      As our driver usually does, I met the owner in Frankfort.  I hadn’t seen Katie since covid.  She is a dear soul who has been around the block more than I have.
      Our driver hadn’t shared with Katie anything about my health issues this year.  She was stunned to learn that I have been dealing with three unrelated cancers.
       It was then that God spoke through her.  When I shared that I had three unrelated cancers, Katie says, “That is good news.”
      That is all she said.  Simply, “That is good news.”
      That was all she needed to say.  God brought the truth home that Katie had perceived. 
      Three unrelated cancers is good news because they are unrelated.  Cancer had not metastasized from one place in my body to another.  That is the danger of cancer and the nature of cancer.  When it spreads it is often deadly.
      Paul writes that we are to be thankful in all circumstances.  Is that possible for a person who has been diagnosed with three cancers in one year? 
      Of course, it is, especially when they are unrelated.  That is good news for which I am thankful.
      Thanks, Katie, for speaking for God when you had no clue that God was using you.
      Maybe God can do the same for someone with whom I encounter today.  I may have no clue.  But God will and hopefully they will, too.

     On Saturday as a loving husband, I drove Teresa to Morehead to attend the funeral of one of the saints of her home church.  I figured for as much as she has stood behind me in the past year, one trip to Morehead was the least that I could do.
     It was good for some of her friends who have been praying for me to see that I am not quite ready for the grave.
     Vencil was a saint in the Biblical sense of the word.  He had “set apart” his life to serve Jesus in every area of his life.  Precious in God’s sight are the deaths of His saints.
     Several folks shared.  A southern gospel quartet, some who are in his extended family, sang.  His pastor remembered him well.
     At the close of the service the quartet led the congregation in the great hymn by Horatio Spafford “It Is Well.”
     I shared a couple of days ago that singing is one of the things that causes pain in my throat because of the surgery. 
     I “lip-serviced” through the first verse.
     I couldn’t when we came to the third verse.  I know the third verse well.  It is a verse that speaks a great truth.
     “My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!  My sin, not in part, but the whole, is nailed to the Cross and I bear it no more, Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord, O my soul.”
     What a marvelous verse.  It is practical encouragement for all of us.  My sin, not just part of it, but even the grievous sins, were nailed to the Cross when Jesus died. 
     And now I don’t have to bear those sins anymore.  All my sin was dealt with at Calvary.  All my sin is under the blood of Jesus. Though the thought of them is still grievous to me, the sins of the past do not need to control the present nor take away the possibilities of the future.  Jesus bore them for me because I couldn’t bear them on my own.  No one can.
     I could write the whole blog on this third verse.
     I sang with strength that third verse.  I knew it wasn’t likely a good thing for my recovery.
 
     Then came one of my favorite verses of any hymn.  The fourth verse is this:
     “And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight, the clouds be rolled back as a scroll.  The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend, even so, it is well with my soul.”
     I remember one morning in the months before Daybreak started driving to Cynthiana.  I was singing “It Is Well.”  It was a cloudy morning but as I was singing, the clouds rolled back and the sun began to shine as brightly as you’d ever see it.  When I came to the fourth verse the tears began to roll down my cheeks.
     On Saturday I couldn’t help it.  I sang that fourth verse with passion.  I could sense that the three young adults who were sitting in the row in front of us were wondering about the guy singing behind them.  My voice was as clear as it has been in quite some time.
     Then I was done.  I mumbled through the final chorus.  Two days later I am not sure if my voice has recovered from singing for three minutes.
     But I don’t regret it for a moment.  God came in those moments as I sang.  I sang as an affirmation of faith to Him and to anyone who was close enough to hear.
       It is well with my soul. 
     In a very real sense, it is well with the rest of my being right now, too.  Physically, emotionally, and relationally.  I realize that the issues that I have faced the last 10 months are not over, but lots of them are behind us, at least for now.  Some of them I will have to deal with the rest of my life.  Who among us doesn’t have things on their plate that are struggles?
     They ended the funeral in a way that I hadn’t seen, and I have seen a lot of funerals.   After the congregation sang “It Is Well” the pianist continued to play and the lead singer sang the first verse again.  Vencil’s family walked out first.  Next his casket was rolled out.  Then the rest of the congregation filed out behind them.
     I have said for years that when the day comes that my body is rolled out the worship center doors that I would like “Blessed Assurance” to be sung.  I have rethought that over this weekend.  
     Singing “It Is Well” might just be the new plan. 
     My faith at that point will be sight. 

    Last evening Teresa and I attended the church Harvest Party at the Shields/Handshoe estates.  Fellowship is a great thing for a church family.
     We decided to go to Nicholasville on the way home because there was something that we wanted to pick up at a store there.
     Night had fallen.  There was the glare of the headlights from the oncoming traffic on the KY state highway.
     Then there he or she was.  A person wearing dark-colored clothing was walking on the white line that marked the edge of the road.  He was walking in the same direction as we were heading and was not looking at the traffic at all.  Just walking.
     I swerved to miss him.
     This morning I still have the same “pit in my stomach” feeling that I felt after we missed him.  Had we met an oncoming car at the time we met him I have no doubt that we would have struck him. 
     He was either on something, was intending to be injured or killed, or was very foolish.
     It was only by God’s grace that we did not meet an oncoming car and only by God’s grace that we did not strike the person.
     Theologians call it prevenient grace.  I have mentioned it before in these blogs.  Prevenient grace is “grace that goes before.”  It is God’s watchful care over us, preventing something or not allowing something to happen that could have happened.
     I believe that God’s prevenient grace is active in our lives most every day.  When we step into glory and no longer see in a mirror dimly, Paul writes that we will understand fully.  Part of understanding fully might very well be how many times God’s prevenient grace was active when we had no clue.  Maybe the accidents we missed or the illnesses we didn’t catch.  It could be lots of things.
     As I look back over my life I see many instances where God’s prevenient grace was evident and active in my life.  How my life would have turned out differently had God’s grace not been there!  If the worst thing that could have happened would have happened, it is likely that I would not have answered His call to ministry and would not have married Teresa.
     God’s grace comes in many forms.  We are thankful when we experience His saving grace, His sustaining grace, and His sufficient grace. 
     I am also thankful for His prevenient grace.  My life and the walker’s life would have turned out far differently had it not been for God’s grace.
     Lord, I am thankful that You are at work at times when I do not know that You are there behind the scenes.  I am also thankful for those times when I have no doubt that Your intervention prevented some things from happening.  I am thankful that you are actively involved in this world.

     Last night was a “six-hour” one, a rarity since the radiation.  I slept six hours in one block.  It’s a blessing to sleep that long, but it usually means that I can’t go back to sleep.  I can function fine on six hours of sleep.
     I woke up this morning “pondering” for the first time in a couple of weeks.  I committed to writing these blogs only when I feel some leading of the Spirit.  The pondering was a good feeling for me.  I now have four or five things “in the hopper” so you may see a blog or two before another two-week layoff!
     There is a part of me that has thought that I should be done with these blogs.  My life is somewhat back to normal, though normal may never be the case again.
     It is then that I get a card in the mail from a lady whom I have never met.  She has been dealing with breast cancer and dropped me an encouraging note to tell me how much the blogs have helped her deal with her own cancer.  I realized then that our Lord isn’t quite finished with these blogs.
     I haven’t shared that I have been dealing with neuropathy since the resumption of the chemotherapy.  For five months the medical staff had asked me if I had any tingling in my hands and feet.  Now I know why.
     I had no clue about neuropathy, which is a tingling or pain in your hands and feet.  It is caused by damage to the nerves and can be one of the side-effects of chemotherapy. 
     The challenge for the medical team is to balance the amount of chemotherapy to try to reduce the damage to the nerves while at the same time still being effective against the myeloma.  It is likely something that I will have to learn to live with, maybe for the rest of my life.  As with most pain, it is more pronounced at night.
     I have recovered from the surgery on my thyroid as quickly as any surgery that I have ever had.  I have taken no pain killers other than Tylenol.  After four days I quit taking the Tylenol.
     As directed by the surgeon, after one week I resumed a relatively “normal” lifestyle, trying to make good decisions about what to do and what not to do.  I haven’t cut down any trees or lifted heavy boxes!
     There was a part of me that felt I could have preached the Sunday after the surgery.  We had others scheduled for three weeks, not knowing how I would respond. 
     It was a wise decision to let my voice recover for a while.  Normal conversations haven’t been affected, but constantly speaking for half an hour could have been a challenge.
     Three things still cause pain in my throat. 
     Yawning, which I try hard not to do. 
     Singing, which is the hardest for me because I love to sing.  It is when I start to sing that I realize that I am still recovering.
     And the obvious one: yelling.  I don’t do a lot of yelling except at Oreo. 
     About a week after the surgery Teresa and I came home from Cynthiana.  Oreo is standing at the basement door waiting for us.   We let her out, going with her to the backyard.
     Oreo comes back into the garage and is standing by me next to the door going into the basement.  Teresa gets some stuff out of her car.  She closes the back hatch and I punch the garage door opener and the door begins to close.
     For some reason when the door was about a foot or so from closing, Oreo decides she is going back out and runs toward the garage door.  Though the door has the sensor, I perceived that it would not stop the door quickly enough.
     So I yelled, “No!  Oreo!  No!”  Though Oreo has a mind of her own and often doesn’t respond to commands, she knew the tone of my voice meant trouble.  She put on the brakes and turned around. 
     Over the years and even in these blogs I have shared that I often hear the voice of God more clearly when God says no than when He says yes.  God’s “yeses” are often understood when I walk by faith and not by sight.
     I have felt that “no” from God a couple of times over the last couple of weeks when I thought I ought to be writing a blog.  For some reason God clearly has said no, until this morning.
     I have found that to refuse to listen when God says no always brings trouble and even danger.  Often I try to “negotiate” with God when He says no.  We all try to rationalize our behavior.
     When God says no, He isn’t kidding.  When He says no, it is always out of His love and for our good.
     Just ask Adam and Eve what happens when we fail to listen to God when He says no or don’t. 
     I think I will leave the fruit on the tree and listen to the voice of God today.