Life Under the Shadow
The lengthening evening shadows remind me that the summer days are drawing to a close. For us, this season has once again brought its bounty. Sunny days, punctuated by more rain than normal, have resulted in green grass and a growing garden. Our bathtub-sized koi pond, whose large fish were plundered last fall by a hungry heron, reopened with three small colorful ones darting about. We once again experienced joyful times on the shores of Lake Michigan with children and grandchildren.
Spiritual blessings have abounded in these summer months as well. Intensive classes taught to eager students, both online in East Asia and on campus in Pittsburgh. A growing church plant seeing both those gifted to serve join in our efforts and unbelievers coming to learn of Christ. Reading books and sitting under preaching and teaching that grow faith. Answers to prayers that glorify God and humble saints.
Yet a shadow has come. A cloud has stubbornly hung over us.
My wife found a small mass in the spring. Appointments and tests in early summer confirmed the breast cancer. Several more appointments led to a plan. A surgery two weeks ago. A pathology report last week. Another surgery needed. Today I watched as she was rolled away to the operating room. Praying and writing in the waiting room help me. Radiation will follow in the weeks ahead. Thankfully, the prognosis remains quite hopeful.
However, these events have caused us to speak more regularly this summer about death. For it is that great "veil that is spread over all nations" (Is. 25:7). All of us, whether we have cancer or not, carry death in these present bodies (Rom. 7:24). "Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow" (Ps. 144:4). In over forty years of marriage, we have spoken about death many times before. But admittedly, those conversations in younger days and healthier times had more of a theoretical ring to them than they have this summer. Going through a valley, where that shadow lingers, has added a weighty reality now as we talk.
This strange darkness has brought unexpected summer blessings. Lengthy times in the early morning spent on our back porch having devotions and sharing together, while hummingbirds dart around us for the feeders nearby. Always hand-holders, we do so even more now, gentle squeezes giving silent reminders of the other's reassuring presence. Laughter and tears with family are treasured more deeply in our hearts, their memories woven into our daily conversations. Experiencing the incredible outpouring of prayer and support from the church, with our pastor reminding us recently that the love of the church is the love of Christ.
As Tim Challies says in Seasons of Sorrow, a book written upon the tragic loss of his son,
God’s goodness does not vary with our circumstances but is fully present and on display in our worst moments as well as our best, in our most lamentable experiences as well as our most joyful.
The psalmist says, "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty" (Ps. 91:1). What a simple yet profound truth is contained here. One can take refuge from the summer sun's heat by standing under the shadow of a large oak or maple tree. But to do so, you have to stand near the tree. Likewise, the trials have caused us to draw near to His Son, the shelter of God, and His constant presence covers us.
Yes, the shadow of cancer has come. But in praise of the glory of His grace, this lesser, passing shadow has drawn us further under His greater, comforting, eternal one.
