"To belong to a group of real friends is to be armed against influences
from without. The public opinion within the group may be tiny, but it
matters more than the opinion of ten thousand outsiders." – C.S. Lewis
It’s hard to imagine going through cancer and the loss of loved ones without a group of real friends. And yet it’s all too easy to go through life with a multitude of acquaintances and few deep relationships. I’ve been fairly good at developing a long list of acquaintances over the years, but far less adept at fostering a group of real friends.
But in August of 2005, when I found I had cancer, many things came into focus. As I went through my email contact list, I found the names of many acquaintances – and, thankfully – many friends. I felt a need to contact each, lest rumors of my death become, in the words of Twain, "greatly exaggerated." Yet sending messages to the masses of friends and acquaintances is not without its anxieties. Was I being too presumptuous? I’m sure in some cases the answer was in the affirmative. Thankfully, many took the time to email back, to read my blog from its genesis, and to pray for me.
Having people pray for you is powerfully humbling. As my incredible professor, Howard Hendricks, told us three decades ago, "Prayer is the admission that your need is total, not partial." If you are one of those who took or take my name before the Father, thank you. My need is total.
The greatest support circle has been friends from Prince of Peace Lutheran Church. Elders, friends from classes taught in years past, small group cohorts, and pastors have all been there for me. It is humbling beyond words. It’s especially moving to have that kind of support flowing to a man from a non-Lutheran background from a bunch of Lutherans. People like Steve & Margie Roach, Steve & Rita Wagner, Carl & Mande Kalbfleisch, Hisashi & Lynn Nikaidoh, Jerry & Jane Baedke, Ernie & Susan Gromatzky . . . and so many more.
Now I find myself feeling the ingrate. Chemo has left me with just enough energy to work (though from lunch to midafternoon I fight to gain energy) and head home exhausted. Our group, Itero!, continues to grow remarkably and most days I don’t get out of the office until around 7:00 p.m. I go home and collapse, using weekends as an attempt to recover, sleeping a lot. My red cell count is low, and the oncologist is working on ways to boost that. I hope my energy is boosted as a result. But all of this leaves very little to no time for friends outside my early morning meetings on Monday, Tuesday, Friday.
It’s also been rough because very old school Lutheran positions on infant baptism, the office of the keys, and related issues make it hard – if not impossible – to embrace the new direction at Prince of Peace. But it is a Lutheran church, and I can’t blame it for becoming very Lutheran. As a result, Kathi and I will be quietly moving on, most probably to Stonebriar Community Church, where old friend, Chuck Swindoll, is senior pastor. It is an arduous journey, but one which we must make for the sake of mutual spiritual growth.
As a stubborn people-pleaser, the thought of disappointing and "leaving" friends who have meant so much to me is a very, very difficult one. But as C.S. Lewis also reminds us, drawing from St. Augustine, "Love anything and your heart will be wrung and
possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must
give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with
hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe
in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe,
dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it
will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be
vulnerable."
So what’s the way out? I’m not sure. Another dear friend, who along with husband Greg has been there for me all the way, Carol Cromartie, spoke of the dilemma she felt as a cancer suvivor herself: "By the time you’re through chemo and are trying to recover from it, you’ve used up your sympathy quota with friends."
As someone who has done too much, worked too much, tried too hard all his life, I’m afraid I’ve used up quotas of all kinds.
Bear with me, friend. I’m still learning, holding on to the foot of the Cross for dear life.