The type of cancer I had is reasonably likely to recur, and also reasonably likely to spread (metastasize).  Both are most likely to happen within the first two years–about four out of five times, in fact.  So if you get to the two year mark NED (no evidence of disease), statistically you’re doing quite well.

My two-year mark was May 1.  Or mid-April, depending on when you start counting.  But it wasn’t until last week that I had a CT scan to verify the "no evidence" part, and it wasn’t until this morning that we got the results: clear!

So big praise.  I’ve been waiting two years for today to get here, and while it doesn’t feel as relieving as it might, I think it’s mainly  because I don’t think about it as often as I once did!  At any rate, on the one hand, today is just a day from yesterday; on the other, today was pretty significant on the cancer front–as far as human medical knowledge can go.  Of course, God’s in control from day one.

I have to say, when I started Ineffable Grace, it certainly wasn’t my intention to go whole months without posting.  Yet, at the moment, that’s exactly what’s happening, and it’s unlikely to change for at least a couple more months.

As most of you probably know, we’re praying to be welcoming a new little girl into the world just over a month from now.  I’ve been sick–hyperemesis gravidarum and, more recently, fairly severe anemia–but honestly, I think the biggest “problem” is that pregnancy seems to have done something to my brain!  My mind seems to be suddenly happier to dwell on concrete things and downright stubborn about dealing with abstracts.  In other words: for the first time in my life, housework is coming easier than thinking.  ;)  I suppose this is a good thing, maybe even a God-given instinct to help mothers prepare for children!  But it is wrecking my blogging abilities, and for that I apologize.

So it looks likely that I won’t be posting until whatever chemicals have gone berserk in my head go back to normal.  In the meantime, though, two very non-deep thoughts that have manged to run through my head between vacuuming and painting:

• As Seth and I work to “prepare a place” for our daughter, it’s made the concept of God preparing a place for us so much more real.  She and I have a sort of relationship; she’s heard my voice, slept to my heartbeat, and felt my hand pushing against her when she kicks particularly hard.  And I’ve felt her little movements, her little flutters, and even seen her little eyes and nose on an ultrasound screen.  But we don’t really know each other, and we won’t move beyond this very limited communication until she actually arrives.  And it makes me think of heaven, the Heavenly Father who’s building us our own equivalents of “nurseries,” and way that our knowledge of Him is so limited now in comparison to what it will be.  And the way I already love this little person who hasn’t even met me or understood the reality of my existence–and how much more my Father loves me despite all my baby-like ignorance.
• When people talk about babies being helpless and needing parents (and the spiritual parallels thereof), I didn’t realize exactly how helpless babies really are.  It’s not that they can’t feed themselves or walk or protect themselves; they come out not knowing how to smile, not being able to see farther than a few feet, and not even being able to grasp something in their little fingers.  It’s amazing, really.

Being that I am neither Presbyterian, believing that our child is automatically covenant and promised for salvation, nor Arminian, believing that our child will be saved if only we manage to be convincing enough–being neither of those things, I believe this little baby is in spiritual darkness.

I’ve been dwelling on this a great deal.  This little one that I’m so eager to meet, the tiny frame that’s being knit together inside of me, is a tangled mess of sin and rebellion.  Even as he or she is learning to think, to hear, to feel, his or her little thoughts are selfish and unredeemed.  That little mind holds no appreciation for its own insignificance, no desire to serve the One who is forming every bone and synapse.  Our child is fallen.

Parents don’t often seem to treat their children like lost people.  It’s frightening to think of; I can feel even now the peculiar blend of terror that comes from flinging all your love and devotion into a little being that may never grow to desire God, from building such an incredibly close relationship with a person who may one day break your heart with their waywardness, or whose funeral you might attend and know that they’ve gone into eternal torment instead of eternal joy.

I don’t think it’s idle worry to be so starkly dramatic.  We don’t know God’s plans, and how could we presume?  We hope and we plead on our knees, but if it brings God more glory that this little child should reject Him, then our hearts may break but still flow with praise.

I don’t want to lose sight of this.  I’m sure it will be easy to do: even as Seth and I plan and giggle about all the ways we’re going to love this child to death, it’s so easy to distance ourselves from the reality of his or her spiritual condition.  And we haven’t even met yet!  Once we’re captured by smiles and coos and all the miniature wonder of new life, I can’t imagine how much more difficult it will be.  But how vital it is that every action we take as parents, every decision, be underpinned by solemn determination to show this child the beauty of Jesus Christ and His Gospel!  We’re embarking on a tiny mission field, bringing it in through our front door.

It goes well beyond “scary.”  And yet it’s also amazing, because even we as saved parents can only throw ourselves on the mercy of God–and so throwing our child on His mercy is not very much different.  And it’s awesome, because how many things bring as much joy to believers as sharing the Gospel?  And here we will, Lord willing, have the opportunity to do exactly that, day in and day out.  So it’s exciting, too, because God is gracious in all things.

I have a very hard time passing up cheap potted flowers. Show me a plant in a pot with a $1 price tag, and I’ll show you an impulsive buyer! And so, when ShopRite had these little miniature daffodils on sale for $1.99, I bought one! It has taken up residence on our living room coffee table, in front of one window and a bit off to the side of another.

When I came down this morning, every single one of the little blooms has managed to turn itself around so that it’s pointing toward the windows. Toward the sunlight. Even the little floppy one that I thought was dead.

Isn’t that amazing? A plant, a thing with no brain or eyes or consciousness, knows what it needs (sunlight) and is wholly dedicated to getting it. I’m amazed at the science of it, in wonder at God’s amazing creation, and also astounded at how relentlessly the daffodils pursue their single task.

I was thinking, as I passed them by, that we should be more daffodil-like. What an amazing example they are! They “look” at the sun, every last one. That’s what they need to survive, and so they do it! Our eyes, too, should be trained on our “sun”–God–without exception and without wavering! God is the one Who fulfills all our needs, and nothing else should distract us.

To limit the metaphor, though, I do wish that they were fed by something else! Because in turning towards the window, they’ve turned away from the room, and all you see is the backs of them, which aren’t nearly as pretty as the blooms!

I was thinking today: I’ve been married for about three years. I’m twenty-three years old. But here I am, writing a series on submission.

Is that arrogant? Because I’ve got a confession to make: I’m not very good at it!

I suppose I should have been clearer on that point at the beginning. I’m writing this series because I need to hear it. Not because I’ve got the market cornered. Just ask my husband! He reads my drafts (often, not always), and I can tell you what he’s thinking: she can say it, but can she live it?

To a certain extent, this whole journal is full of me writing about subjects I’m not so good at living. But submission is particularly humbling for me, because there are all kinds of godly women out there (probably including some of the ones I criticized in this post) who really don’t struggle with submission–the way some women don’t struggle with discussing intricacies of theology. We have strengths and we have weaknesses, by God’s grace, and for some women, submission is a strength!

But not for me. I struggle. I’m stubborn. I’m independent. I usually tell people when I think they’re wrong. I’m opinionated.

Please keep that in mind if you’re reading here. You’re reading the story of my struggle to understand and internalize the command of God for me to be submissive to my husband. I’m writing what I learn from Scripture, yes, and I’ll write with conviction, but I’m studying first and foremost to convict my own heart. These words spring out of frailty, not accomplishment.

Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord.
[Colossians 3:18]

Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife even as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands….let the wife see that she respects her husband.
[Ephesians 5:22-24,33]

Likewise, wives, be subject to your own husbands, so that even if some do not obey the word, they may be won without a word by the conduct of their wives, when they see your respectful and pure conduct. Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious. For this is how the holy women who hoped in God used to adorn themselves, by submitting to their own husbands, as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord. And you are her children, if you do good and do not fear anything that is frightening.
[1 Peter 3:1-6]

Wifely submission is a complicated topic. I once posted an open query to a group of my friends, asking what, practically, submission “looks like.” I wanted a mental picture. I wasn’t married yet–I’m not sure Seth and I were even dating–but I figured there had to be some underlying attitude that characterized submissive wives: something I could emulate in my future marriage. I received no substantive response. We know we’re supposed to “submit,” but articulating exactly what that means on a day-to-day basis can be much more difficult!

I want, over the next few weeks (or perhaps a month and a half or so!) to do similarly to what I did with the cultivating heavenwardness “series”, by writing another set of posts focusing on submission. I’m a bit more organized going into this one, because I’ve been working on it for a while, and also because I want to focus on the important things moreso than just the things that I “like”. I’m not writing to cultivate a desire for something I already know is good (e.g. heaven) so much as writing to sear my own heart and conscience to better serve my husband and glorify God.

I’ll try to write the first entry tomorrow.

I think I appreciated the blog (linked a few days ago in the “asides”) of Al Groves and his family so much because in so many ways, their situation is precisely that which I dread: both he and I had rare primary cancers that are “treatable” in the initial form, but with reasonably high potential for secondary cancers down the road that are intrinsically untreatable.

The next time I go to have scans done, I could very well find out that I have one of those incurable secondary cancers. That’s a very intimidating thing to live with: to know that I could feel perfectly healthy, but go to a routine doctor appointment and come home with a number measured in weeks or months called “life expectancy.”

If I haven’t been clear on this before, let me be very clear now: that is what I struggle with, cancer-wise–knowing that this precise scenario is more likely than, say, me being in a car accident. And I’m one of these people who wants to plan everything out. I am not spontaneous. I like to control my environment. And if I’m going to suddenly get the news that I’m going to die, well, I’d like to at least feel a little bit sick first so I can grow accustomed to the idea before having it thrust upon me, you know?

Mainly I’m afraid of how I will react, if that situation ever comes to pass. When you’re sitting in the doctor’s office waiting for results that are either “completely clear” or “imminent death,” let me tell you, it’s hard to prepare yourself mentally. It’s so stressful every time I go, because either I have to just ignore the possibility of the latter (and if it ever happens, be completely off-guard), or meditate on the possibility (and if it doesn’t happen, waste untold hours in useless stress). It’s a lose-lose situation from a human standpoint. But it’s really, really important to me to be in a position to react correctly if I do get the “bad” news.

(And yes, yes, I know the “right” answer–pray and trust God, and be prepared to be content with either situation, and don’t be anxious–but that’s very much harder to live than it is to say. I haven’t perfected the knack yet, and I don’t know that I will until I’m in heaven!)

All that to say… the reason the Groveses’ blog was so encouraging to me is because it helped me see a real, visible outworking of what to do in that situation. It makes me feel better prepared. It makes me less stressed. It makes me better able to praise God. I wanted to jot down some specific “lessons” I learned from the site.

• Don’t discount miracles. This is really big for me, because I tend to (at least live like I) believe that God very, very, very infrequently heals people who medically have “no hope.” And I didn’t get the impression that the Groveses expected a miracle, but they were very precise in making sure that they still accorded God, not cancer, the credit for death. They used words like “medically incurable” and didn’t dwell on “I’m going to die” in a matter-of-fact way. Just because doctors give you a month to live doesn’t mean that you know your time.
• Don’t dwell on death. Again, they were realistic about the probabilities, but I loved the entry where he talked about flossing his teeth, and clearly he was very involved in people’s lives right up through January. There almost seemed to be a “when it happens, it happens,” attitude which I think (reflectively) is hugely important.
• In the process of dying, death becomes more comfortable. This is closely tied to the previous point; I found it amazing and very uplifting that as the end grew more obviously near, the family seemed to grow more at peace with the fact. Instead of becoming frantic and “only one more week!” there was the emphasis on how much better heaven would be than earthly suffering. It just goes to show how God uses suffering and pain to prepare our hearts better for heaven, and it it is a great encouragement to me to know that if my day ever comes, I can at least reasonably hope that similarly, God will make sure that circumstances collide so that I and those around me are glad to see me go before I actually have to go. This was a really important point for me, and I hope I’m expressing it comprehensibly.
• “Dealing” isn’t necessary. At least not publicly! Seriously, though–part of understanding these previous three points is the logical conclusion that we shouldn’t borrow tomorrow’s troubles for today. It’s very hard not to do so (especially for someone like me!), but it seems like it is better to trust that whatever unhappy news tomorrow might bring, God will give us enough grace to survive it… tomorrow. And trying to prepare ourselves ahead of time for unhappy news we think might be coming is, in a way, evidencing a lack of faith in God to provide for us when it actually happens.

I don’t know the Groves family, obviously–I don’t know anything about them beyond what I read on their blog, which I read from beginning to end as I sat at my computer and cried and cried for their joy and for their loss and for their unwavering faith. And I don’t know that they would agree with these four things I learned from them. But I am so thankful for their testimony, because God used it in my heart in a very practical and immediate way, both cautioning and comforting me.

I would again encourage everyone to read the blog, starting at the beginning (and reading at least the beginning and end, if not the middle, although it’s all worth reading)–it is immensely encouraging and amazing evidence of what a gracious and all-powerful God we serve.

This is part of a series. You can read the introduction first or view all the posts together.

I’m happy to go to heaven because there won’t be human marriage there.

But those who are considered worthy to attain to that age and to the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage.
[Luke 20:35, ESV]

This is very counter-intuitive; I adore my husband and I love being married. A big part of me would be perfectly content with this life so long as I could keep living it with him. In fact, it’s my appreciation of the institution of marriage that makes me the more happier that it will be abolished!

The subject of marriage in heaven always brings to my mind the passage in Numbers 21, where the children of Israel sinned, and were bitten by firey serpents. Moses prayed, and the Lord told him to set a firey sepent on a pole for the people to look at it and live. The serpent was a “forerunner,” in a sense, of Christ, a connection which is made explicit in [bible]John 3:14[/bible]. And so… the people appreciated the serpent. In fact, they went on to actually worship it, according to [bible]2 Kings 18:4[/bible].

In other words, instead of taking God’s gift and allowing it to illustrate to their hearts the truth of their future Redeemer, they took the gift and utterly subverted its purpose, making an idol of it and forgetting its Giver.

Our marriage here is a gift for which God has delineated many reasons–but all throughout Scripture, He’s also been very clear that our marriages are of limited duration, a bond dissolved by death.

And yet there is one marriage which God tells us will be enacted in glory:

Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready.
[Revelation 19:7, ESV]

I can’t even begin to contemplate exactly what that means, a marriage between an everlastingly perfect God and His church, but I do know that God chose to use the word marriage. Not friendship, not master-slave, not equals, but “marriage.”

Which means that our marriages now, wonderful though they may be, have an awful lot in common with the serpent Moses lifted up in the wilderness. It’s a gift, and it should be helping our hearts to begin to understand the upcoming marriage of Christ and the Church. (I like the way John Piper puts it: “the highest meaning and the most ultimate purpose of marriage is to put the covenant relationship of Christ and his church on display.”)  God has graciously given us a foretaste of what the word marriage means, but we don’t yet understand it in full, because the marriage for which He’s collectively preparing us isn’t yet fulfilled.

It’s an immensely exciting thing to know that as much as I love Seth and love being his wife, this “marriage” that I adore is only an imperfect model of what’s going to be in heaven. And who in their right mind would prefer the imperfect and incomplete to the perfect and fulfilled?

This is part of a series. You can read the introduction first or view all the posts together.

Yes, I’m a few days late with this one! I thought I’d get more done on the weekend, but it turns out I did less.

A few weeks ago, we read 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 in church:

But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage one another with these words.
[ESV]

Setting aside the escatological context here, the point Paul is making is don’t grieve, we’ll be caught up together to be with the Lord. I find it really amazingly gracious that this passage exists. Isn’t it enough to know that when we die, we get to be with God? Why are we worried about the fate of other believers? But Paul points out that one little word: together. With each other! The whole passage is phrased not as an exhortation to not be worried about our own deaths, but rather not to be worried about those who are already dead in Christ! I want to quote John Gill, as he describes the state of the lost person whose loved one has died:

“[The Gentiles,] having no notion of the doctrine of the resurrection of the dead, had no hope of ever seeing their friends more, but looked upon them as entirely lost, as no longer in being, and never more to be met with, seen, and enjoyed; this drove them to extravagant actions… [instead Christians should have] the sorrow of those who have a good hope of the future well-being of their dear relatives…”

Matthew Henry adds:
“It will be some part of their felicity that all the saints shall meet together, and remain together for ever; but the principal happiness of heaven is this, to be with the Lord, to see him, live with him, and enjoy him, for ever.”

I don’t want to under-emphasize the second part of that–the principal and all-encompassing joy of heaven is God, not “Christian fellowship,” but the fellowship aspect is also underscored in this verse. Ephesians 2:19 says “So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God.” We aren’t just a single citizen all by our lonesome in heaven, we have fellow citizens. We’re members of one body. That’s what we were created to be. 1 John 1:7: “But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.” If we walk in the light, we have fellowship with one another.

I don’t know exactly what fellowship is going to look like in heaven. So many of the verses that pertain to fellowship now have to do with encouraging one another not to fall into sin, how not to sin against each other, etc., and since we won’t be sinning in heaven, it seems logical that our fellowship will be likewise perfected. 1 John 1:3 seems like it will still be entirely applicable; “that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.” And Colossians 3:16, “let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.” Sometimes fellowship isn’t telling each other “new” things, it’s simply dwelling on God and worshipping Him together. Sometimes fellowship is listening to a fellow believer describe how they’ve been blown away by God’s grace, and getting tears of amazement in our eyes because it is such an amazing thing to have our hearts drawn to worship together.

Another reason I really like this idea of heavenly fellowship is because it’ll be perfect. No angry debates about whether Doctrine X or Doctrine Z is the “true” way, no brokenness over someone’s failure to see some truth clearly, no wondering whether we said something correctly or arrogantly, and no worrying over whether we’re right in our dogmatism. None of our falleness.

God didn’t choose only one person to draw to Himself, and He didn’t tell us to go through our lives without any contact with each other. And in heaven, yes, we’ll be worshipping God–we’ll be worshipping Him together.

This is part of a series. You can read the introduction first or view all the posts together.

I want to begin by amending my introductory post with another verse further down in the passage that should have come to mind (and didn’t):

I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account.
[Philippians 1:23-24, ESV]

Paul’s attitude is shining so clearly here: to be with Christ is far better. Not just ordinary better, but far better. But to remain is more necessary, and so we do–but the division causes Paul to be “hard pressed,” or, as the KJV puts it very poetically, “I am in a strait betwixt two.”

Okay, now onto today’s reason why I want to go to heaven. I really had trouble with this post, partly because I’m not in a very writey mood, and partly because the reason that keeps coming to the forefront of my mind I want to save until the last.

But today: I want to go to heaven because it’s my home.

…having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth…. seeking a homeland… they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.
[Hebrews 11:13-14]

But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.
[Philippians 3:20-21]

In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?
[John 14:2]

Usually when I read the Philippians verse, it makes me think my “real” citizenship is not to the United States. Which is true, but it’s rather missing the point of the verse. We are citizens of heaven. God has prepared a city. Christ left Earth to prepare a place for us. Heaven is our homeland. Heaven has many rooms.

In other words, heaven is the perfect place for us. It’s ideal. It’s prepared for us by a God who knows us better than we know ourselves. It’s a world without any of the fallen trappings of Earth–no corrupt governments, no wars, no hunger, no politics, no murders, no danger, no cemetaries, no hospitals, no democracies… the list goes on. When we’re in heaven, we can finally be “patriotic!” Our “government” will never do anything wrong or fail its citizens, because our King is perfect.

And–the idea of God Himself “preparing” something personally for us leaves me utterly speechless. I wish I knew a bigger word than awe.