Hope in Death and Hope in Life

I'm utterly and completely ready to see Jesus, to be raised incorruptible, to know even as I also am known. I have been given grace for this hour. I trust completely that to die is to see face to face the One Who loves me and by Whom I have been loved most intimately. Honestly.

So I've asked blunt questions and tried to think through the details of my death as it will impact Karen and Jake. If a 16-year-old boy discovers his father's body, what's he likely see and what traumatic effect will it have, and what immediate actions will be required of him. Karen and I hope to talk to him about that tomorrow night, after we get some better answers ourselves from the doctor tomorrow afternoon.

I've got some idea now of what the last days and hours will look like if I die, because I'm probably close to that now, if the doctor's correct. If the doctor's original 4-8 week prognosis is right, I'll die between November 30 and December 28. Today is November 22. I'll most likely die in my sleep of internal bleeding, and Karen will call an ambulance. Internal bleeding would be indicated by the color of the fluid that's building up changing from yellow to red. A doctor would declare me dead, Karen would have my body cremated and cash in my life insurance policy, which would take care of her, and be some relief to the kids and the church we're planting, hopefully.

Meanwhile, those I leave behind will still cling tenaciously to the conviction that, nevertheless, God is still God, love is still enough, and that although the answer this time was "no", still they'll ask again next time because sometimes the answer is yes. And they'll look for a way to let God turn even this bad thing into something good.

On the other hand -- on the other hand -- ON THE OTHER HAND -- the Holy Spirit makes intercession for us with groanings that cannot be uttered. He is the Great Physicican, whom even the wind and the waves obey. All over the world, from my mother to Karen and Roland to Nazarene General Superintendent Jerry Porter to dearly loved friends all over the world, people have assured me that they will pray and believe until I draw my very last breath for my complete, miraculous healing because our God is a God of the impossible and he has done it before. I'm not praying for some cliche, cop-out answer to prayer like the "ultimate healing" or "final healing". We're already assured of that because we are His heirs. We're praying for a real, physical, exceptional revoking of the laws of biology.

When he heals me, this is probably what it will look like:

The fluid will stop building up, so my belly will stop being bloated and my feet will stop being puffy. My energy, strength and alertness levels will increase. I'll have increased lean muscle tissue. Blood vessels will stop looking so prominent and enlarged. Bowel movements will return to normal. Then the doctor will see the need to do another set of CT Scans of both the liver and colon areas. He'll get the film and radiologist's report back and maybe order another colonoscopy. At that point, he'll report to me that he can find no evidence of cancer in either the scans or the bloodwork. He'll smile and say that it looks like we've gotten our miracle and tell me to come back every 3 months for a follow up.

And a God not only of love but of power for miracles beyond the imagination of doctors will become a part of my story and a part of the DNA of NewStart-RiverCity and all those people who are praying fervently for my healing will know that sometimes the answer is "YES." God will be God indeed.

Great God Almighty, I'm holding out for "YES!"

The Farewell Tour

I'm writing this from Dallas. It's been a great week. I've had my parents, siblings and their significant others with me the whole time, and a steady stream of aunts, uncles, cousins and friends coming through, eager to do something, anything, for me, and to tell me they love me. We've watched old family home movies, re-told the old favorite stories and jokes and laughed ourselves silly. I have a wonderful, fun, loving family.

Wednesday night we went to supper at Richardson Church of the Nazarene. A steady stream of cool old friends stood in line for a chance to tell me what I've meant to them and how much they love me. I've had a good life.

I've had e-mails plotting the future of NewStart-RiverCity, the church we're preparing to plant in Brisbane. I've had an email exchange with a Nazarene general superintendent who knows and loves me and is praying for a miraculous healing.

Physically I feel like I'm continuing to decline, but spiritually and emotionally I'm on top of the world.

Keep praying for a miracle.

Brad