Robert Lowery

September 29, 2006 – March 29, 2007

The phone call from my doctor on March 30, 2007, the day after my most recent CT Scan of the tumor/mass inside of me, was an encouraging one. The mass had not grown for six months; it appeared stable. What encouraging news to share with my family, friends, and others! Within minutes, I called my son and daughter and their spouses and a few special friends to share the good report with them.

But what a journey it had been and remains! I must have at least three more scans at three month intervals left, unless the mass becomes unstable. My doctor tells me that with each remaining scan, if the report is the same as the one on March 31, then it is increasingly likely I do not have a malignancy, at least one associated with this particular tumor. And we should be increasingly grateful. We pray for such grace-times. We praise God, and we petition him that the future tests will be just as encouraging.

As I re-read the above paragraph, two words jump out at me: stable and unstable. From one perspective, I am embarrassed to write that the last six months have appeared to me to be anything but stable.* To quote Samuel Johnson (1709-1789), English dictionary editor and author: “The prospect of hanging concentrates the mind wonderfully.” Likewise, the prospect of having a cancer that will kill both focuses and blurs.

To be sure, I have been reminded of what is trivial and significant in life and in ministry (God forgive us when we make the trivial significant and the significant trivial!), how special relationships truly count, how Christian community comforts, and what trust in God truly means. But I confess, there have been many moments where blurring has taken place. I do not know if I should repent or rejoice.

One thing stands out at this point in the journey. I have had a very hard time thinking as I normally would. Let me cite some examples:

In my study times, I have had a hard time focusing on God’s Written Word. My mind has been a rambling one, not as sharp as it has been in the past. I would be in Leviticus one moment and then Luke another. At times the holy sentences did not make sense, the English or Greek or Hebrew ones. But still I tried to keep at my practice of reading the New Testament once a month and the Old Testament twice a year. But my mind would wander from text to text, and I often found myself not staring in wonder at God’s Word.

In my classes, I had a hard time asking the right questions of my students, probing them to see if they had really studied the text, offering perspective on their papers and other presentations. I felt and feel as if I should refund them their tuition money. I wandered over the course time and feared that my students would not sit in wonder at the power of God’s Word.

In my meetings with colleagues and others, as well as in private or small group conversations, I found my mind wandering, and I began to wonder if I would ever be able to concentrate again or appreciate the richness of Christian fellowship.

In my prayer life, I often had time lining up the words in proper order so that they would ascend like incense to the throne-room. And yet, all the while I found comfort in Romans 8:26 where Paul assures us that the Holy Spirit intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.

Countless times I have been reminded that anxiety can overrule the mind and the heart. And yet the grace-tether was secure. I remain confident of this: God’s grace saves and God’s grace sustains. Blessed be the God of Grace revealed in Jesus. It is a Grace that has continued to call me back from my wandering, and it is a Grace that stirs my heart to stare in wonder at the Rock.

* If you have noticed my wanderings either when talking to me or reading my website in recent weeks, I beg your patience and understanding. With the recent good report, I’m finding some of my former concentration capabilities returning.

Related posts:

1. Reflections on the Last Six Months