Singing in the Darkness

One of the things we miss most about our life in Tokyo is songbirds. Oh, there are some birds of a crow variety that remind us of Alfred Hitchcock’s story Birds. But their voices are raspy and threatening, and these vulture-like creatures will attack anything—including people—if they’re provoked.

The hillside behind our house in Kobe was a different scene entirely. There a choir of the most exquisite and talented singers I’ve ever heard serenaded us regularly, filling our spirits with peace and gladness. As I said, we do miss the songbirds in Tokyo.

Needless to say, we’ve been pleasantly surprised at the birds here in Anderson. Bernie has purchased a bird feeder and seeds to coax them closer to our dining room window, and they’ve come—first a cardinal couple, a variety of titmouses and sparrows, and others we’ve not yet identified. We’re waiting for hummingbirds to discover the nectar and feeder Bernie added to our window bird sanctuary, but so far, none have come our way. Nevertheless, the song of the birds is a true gift from God to us.

Maybe it’s a cultural difference, but for some reason, the crows in Tokyo don’t sing until the new day begins dawning. Here in Anderson, I realized one morning that the birds were singing even in the early morning darkness. I’d awakened early and was surprised to hear the choir warming up already. It wasn’t long before God used the birds’ chorus to encourage and challenge me.

The news from the doctor wasn’t very good. Blood and test results showed new cancer activity, disappointing news to have to digest yet again. I felt a huge sigh escape from my lips as I began to think about the implications of what he was saying. Naturally, I wished the news were different.

But I was different in the morning. Starting a new day in the darkness once again (I do not like daylight savings time), I heard the songbirds. Suddenly I was reminded, “The birds are singing in the darkness.” As new images flooded my mind, I thought about how darkness represents the negative while light represents hope and life. Sometimes our circumstances are difficult and dark, but they shouldn’t be allowed to dictate negative responses. We can choose how we respond and whether or not we’ll sing in the darkness. My recommendation? Sing in the darkness.

Paul and Silas did (Acts 16). The prison doors flew open, their chains fell loose, and they were free—all because they chose to sing in the darkness.

The birds have made that choice. I have, too.

Coming Full Circle

My parents, Bernie and me

“…for I know that through your prayers and the help given by the Spirit of Jesus Christ, what has happened to me will turn out for my deliverance” (Philippians 1:19).

The foremost missionary ever, Paul was talking about his being a prisoner for Christ. That is “what has happened to me.” In my case, what has happened to me is cancer.

Paul goes on in verses 20-21: “I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.”

Hallelujah! No matter what happens to me physically (though I always pray for healing), I do desire that my life and my death will indeed glorify you, Heavenly Father. A life of meaning, a life of faithfulness, a life of influence and witness for the sake of the Kingdom. This is how I’ve always wanted to live, Lord God. Thank you for giving me the courage need to do so. Thank you also that when I’ve failed, you’ve always accepted, loved me anyway, and forgiven and purified me according to 1 John 1:9.

But what of the deliverance mentioned in verse 19 above? Surely getting cancer isn’t deliverance—except deliverance into the hands of pain and suffering. Surely this isn’t a truism. Yet it is! As I was challenged to think about the other day in my conversation with my mentor and friend, Ann, the closing of doors is opportunity for new doors to open that wouldn’t be possible otherwise. What doors have been opened for me as I’ve been delivered from a very busy—much too busy—schedule because of cancer?

Doors of discovery. How many lessons you’ve taught me, Father, in these two years since my kidney was removed in April 2009. Among the most important are lessons related to patience and finding my value in being with you rather than in doing for you. Doing, I’ve discovered, was where I was finding my value and identity, despite the fact that Scripture clearly teaches that these are found in you alone.

As for the discovery of patience, though it is tested regularly through cancer, I’ve discovered I really am becoming much more patient person—something I’ve prayed about forever (it seems). I’ve been eager for the Fruit of the Holy Spirit (among these, patience) to grow in my life. Maybe, in your infinite wisdom, Lord, you knew that the only way this would develop into the desired plump and delicious fruit would be through cancer and all the related trials, especially when we’ve had to wait so long for many of our prayers to be answered. But praise God! You are answering these prayers, one after another, in your perfect timing.

And what of Paul’s assertion that, “For me to live is Christ and to die is gain,” in verse 22 above? Actually, reading this was a little hard for me this morning, especially as Paul continues n verses 22-23: “If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far . . . .”

I do desire Christ; I do desire to have fruitful labor for God. I do agree wholeheartedly with these words. But to desire to depart this body in order to be with Christ? Honestly, I shout out a resounding NO!. “Yet not my will, but yours be done,” Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane. I, too, will yield to your perfect will, Lord God—and it is perfect according to Jeremiah 29:11. But, in the meantime—before that perfect will opens new doors of opportunity—I desire to stay right here in this body, weak as it is (though I praise you for the strength you give me daily, Lord). I want to be here for others, as Paul expressed so eloquently. I want to be here in this body in order to see others come to Christ and grow in him to be like Jesus.

But I also want to be here for my family. Today is my mother’s 87th birthday. What a tremendous influence for good she’s had over the years. I’ve not always been a gracious and grateful recipient of her many lessons. (Often I’ts been years later that I’ve come to understand the value of all she’s taught me by word and example.) But I also want to be here for Bernie, Benjamin, Stephanie, Donald, Little Ben, Hosanna, and my yet unborn third grandchild who whom I will meet later this year. I want to see the three little ones grow up to be people of God. Just as others have influenced me over the years, I pray for many more opportunities to influence my grandchildren, to laugh with them and to enjoy and share in their lives. I pray for the building of many more memories. No, I am not yet ready to depart.

Still, this I know with confidence: “There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die . . .” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2).

I praise you because you are the creator of all time, Lord. I worship you this morning with full confidence in YOU—with joy in the knowledge that whatever happens and when, you are in control and that time is in your hands according to your perfect will that desires and carries out what is best for me.

One more lesson of discovery: I don’t have to understand things in order for whatever happens to be the best for me. God is perfectly able to understand. In fact, he does understand because he is the Creator God, all powerful, all knowing—and it is his choice whether or not he explains to me in part or not at all. This is a part of my trusting him and fixing my eyes on what is unseen (God and his perfect plans) rather than only on what is seen (the world I understand around me). How freeing that I don’t have to figure it all out! Thank you, Lord, that I can just relax in you and leave it to and with you. What a peaceful way to live! And to think that “what has happened to me [my cancer] will turn out for my deliverance [has turned out for my deliverance]”, as Paul wrote in the very first verse I read from Philippians this morning.

And here I am having come full circle in my musings this morning. Thank you, Lord, for the journey on which you’ve led me through the Bible and the thoughts you’ve given me as I’ve read. It’s been a fascinating and eye-opening journey, and I’m so grateful—yes, even grateful for my cancer. What gifts you’ve given my, Lord! “Every good and perfect gift comes down from above . . . .” How I praise and thank you.