New Following Patterns
28. New Following Patterns[179]
“To follow, without halt, one aim:
There’s the secret of success.”[180]
“Throw your heart over the fence and the rest will follow.”[181]
In ballroom dance a following pattern is the art of correctly reacting to the movements and signals given by the dance leader. There should always be a leader in dance. It just so happens that when a man and a woman engage in ballroom dancing, the man has been designated the leader.
I used the word engage purposely, for to engage in dance, the man and woman must connect. Where the partners connect – the hands, arms, body and eyes – there’s silent communication taking place. The leader – in this case, the man – conveys his intentions using body language and sometimes words. Most of the time, with slight nudges, a push or pull, pressure to the small of the back, the hint of a spin, or a look, the leader communicates a new direction or movement.
New signals from The Leader were coming to Vicki and me. We were feeling nudges and pulls; we sensed we were about to go in a new direction.
Blood tests and CAT Scans were indicating Vic’s tumors were growing out of control. Chemotherapy hadn’t worked to slow down the advance, nor had Vicki’s super-nutrition routine (eating only organic foods, foods free of growth hormones and antibiotics, and taking huge doses of nutraceuticals). Her CA-125 test results were coming back in the 700 to 900 units per milliliter range. (The normal values for CA 125 may vary slightly among individual laboratories, but in most labs the normal value is less than 35 U/ml. In a patient being evaluated for a pelvic mass, a CA 125 level greater than 65 is associated with malignancy in approximately 90% of cases.[182])
She did something very Vicki-esque when she wrote the following entry, and it was a long one by her standards. She covered a lot of ground. She began with the good news. From Thanksgiving to Christmas, and then into the first few weeks of the New Year there were lots of things to celebrate.
January 19, 2001
We had a wonderful Christmas in Florida with our entire family there. Chris returned from a wonderful trip to China! He then left for a semester in Costa Rica on January 9th, 2001.
This was Sammie’s first Christmas as a believer, and we gave her a Bible. I can see the change in her – it’s wonderful.
Next, Vic mentioned, almost casually, that we had had the most unusual meeting with Dr. Jones since the cancer journey began.
Yesterday morning (January 18th) I had a CAT scan. We returned home, but later in the day we got a call from Dr. Jones. He was really excited, and asked us to come back to the hospital (Henrico Doctors Hospital). He had GREAT NEWS for us. He said my tumor seems to have a clear margin all around it now, and he feels he may be able to surgically remove it. He’s never seen anything develop like this before. He said it’s not even acting like ovarian cancer, and he suggested that it might be endometrial cancer instead. I don’t know why that would make any difference, but it’s the first good news we’ve had from him in months.
We had been receiving good news and encouragements from God for months, but this was the first time I had seen Dr. Jones so animated – and so filled with wonder, and hope.
When he talked about a “margin,” Dr. Jones was talking about a space between the wall of the tumor (it’s “skin,” if you will) and Vicki’s internal organs and abdominal tissue. Our doctor was telling us that something unusual was happening to the tumor “shell,” and he wanted to operate as soon as we would allow him.
Vicki was hesitant. She had already had two surgeries – the initial exploratory surgery that resulted in the hysterectomy, and the surgery that revealed the presence of the tumor now growing inside her. After that second surgery we had been told it “… was not extractable.” It’s no wonder she wrote,
My struggle today is that I’ve been counting on God doing this miracle in MY way … without man’s help. I had it all figured out, how God could get the most glory. I so desperately want God to get ALL the credit for this, and having surgery doesn’t fit my plan. I guess that has to be left in God’s hands. I can’t begin to know what His plan is in all that has happened.
A huge disappointment came when Mike (Barclay) died on January 2nd. We were so sure he would be healed. It really shook my faith in my theology of how God works. I had really believed that if we had enough faith, God would heal him. Well, I know he didn’t die from a lack of faith, so there must be another reason. I admit it made me wonder if I had really heard from God at all, or had I just convinced myself of what I wanted to hear. It made me realize that I had moved away from only wanting God to be glorified, and towards just wanting to live. I’ve slowly been moving back to a place where I can once again say, “Not my will but Yours be done, Lord.” I told God that if His purposes for Trinity and Lowell can be better accomplished without me here as a distraction, then I surrender my will to live to His will and purposes. If, however, I can work beside Lowell and be an asset to his ministry, then I believe God will allow me to live.
I have never doubted that God has the POWER to heal me. And I still believe that He will. It’s harder to wait for His timing than I thought it would be. Every day I expect a miracle, and there are many times I have to fight the disappointment.
One day, the victory will come. Let it be soon!
Vicki had it all figured out – how God was going to work in her body, and that He would surely heal Mike Barclay, too. Her faith for her healing had become intertwined with her faith for Mike’s healing. Mike’s sudden death was a crushing blow, and made her feel fragile. Her emotions were under assault. She began shivering in the night, and she would cry for inexplicable reasons.
Years later I was reading through some of Vic’s sermons on her computer and I stumbled on the following, written on January 20th:
I feel I have to write more on the subject of Mike’s death. Lowell and I talked about what I had written in my journal, and he suggested that I go a little deeper and put down everything … my thoughts, desires and fears.
Yesterday I wrote: A huge disappointment came on January 2nd. Mike died. I was so sure he would be healed. It really shook my faith, or rather it shook my carefully thought-out theology, my feelings about healing, and how I think God works. I really believed that if we had enough faith, God would heal Mike.
Well, I know he didn’t die because of a lack of faith, so there must be another reason. [Emphasis, hers]
Now, today, I have no idea what that reason may be. Before Mike died if someone had asked me to explain why some people are healed and others aren’t, I’d have some answers. Today, I don’t.
I admit it made me wonder if I had really heard from God at all, or had I just convinced myself of what I wanted to hear.
Hearing from God is really tricky. Sometimes I just know that I know that [what I heard is from] God. It’s so clear, His voice sounds like it’s coming from another room in the same house. And usually, what I’m hearing is straight out of the Bible, and lines up with how Christians have believed for two thousand years.
Other times I believe I’ve heard His voice, and really believed, but when it’s all said and done, what I thought was supposed to happen didn’t happen. (I missed it somehow.)
Like I wrote yesterday, Mike’s death has made me realize that I have towards [sic] wanting to live more than wanting God to be glorified. I’ve been so shook up for the last week, but I’ve slowly been moving back to a place where I can once say, “Not my will but Yours be done, Lord.”
Lowell wanted me to put down what I remember of Mike’s death, and how it has impacted my heart. It’s so hard to remember everything that we both said we wanted to remember ten days ago, but I’ve got to try. It’s really important to Lowell, and to me, too.
Lowell visited Mike the night before he died (January 1). He told me his time at Sarah and Mike’s house was a bitter-sweet visit. Sweet, because Mike, Sarah and he had had a great time of prayer and conversation. Mike was still strongly believing, and so was Sarah, although Lowell did say Sarah looked really tired. Seeing her so worn out was the difficult part, Lowell said a couple of times. He was talking about how hard it’s been on Sarah. Lowell’s so concerned for Sarah, and no wonder. She’s been strong for everyone. I’m praying for her three children: Jonathan, Joshua, and Elizabeth.
[One reason I think Lowell wanted me to write down our recollections of Mike’s death was because] Lowell wanted me to know about how hard it’s been on Sarah … because it’s been hard for him, too. Dealing with my cancer and Mike’s failing health (and then his death) has taken a toll on Lowell. We [have talked] about how my cancer battle has effected him and Trinity pretty often, but right now there are no words to explain how either of us feel, or how the people at Trinity are handling all this (me and Mike).
The morning of the 2nd Lowell got a call from Sarah saying that Mike was being rushed to J-W[183], and that he wasn’t looking good. Lowell rushed to J-W, praying the whole way. He told me that while he was driving down the Powhite Parkway he was in such great faith, it felt like the time he prayed for me [that significant time a few months ago]. He really believed that when he showed up and prayed, Mike was going to be totally healed.
Lowell drove all the way to the traffic light right across from the hospital (at Midlothian Turnpike and Johnston-Willis Drive), and he had to stop. Right then God spoke to him so clearly. God said, “Lowell, do not ask for his life.”
What a shock! Lowell said he thought he might have been mistaken, but God said it again – “Don’t ask for his life. I’ve gone to prepare a place for him, that where I am Mike will be also.”
Lowell was heartsick. He didn’t know what to do but just keep heading for Mike’s room. God had said, “No.” He was totally unprepared for that.
Lowell said he walked up the stairs rather than using the elevator, and he practically walked right into Sarah just outside of Mike’s door. They walked into Mike’s room together, and were talking softly when the nurses came in. Mike had “coded,” and the monitors at the nursing station were alarming. Sarah and Lowell had noticed the blue lights come on, but they didn’t think anything of it.
Then Sarah and Lowell walked out while the nurses were working in Mike’s room. As soon as they came out of the door, Mike’s oncologist showed up. He explained what Sarah already knew – they (Sarah and the doctor) had decided to not try to resuscitate Mike because the bone cancer had weakened his rib cage so much that his bones were brittle. If they tried to resuscitate him, the doctor said, Mike’s body would just break apart.
Lowell, Sarah and the doctor walked back into Mike’s room and just gathered around the bed. Then Sarah did something awesome. She patted the doctor’s chest gently and smiled up at him and said, “You’re a good doctor. You’re a good man.” The doctor didn’t know what to do. It looked to Lowell like he teared up a little … turning his head away to hide the tears.
In a few minutes the doctor left, and Lowell and Sarah prayed together and worshipped the Lord. Then Sarah became concerned about the children at home, and she left to make phone calls.
That’s when Lowell went out of the room and called me. I was totally unprepared for the news. Actually, I was devastated. Later that day I realized that I had tied my healing to Mike’s. Everything that was being done for me (24-hour prayer, fasting, etc.) [had been] done for Mike, but it didn’t prevent his death. That reality hit me really hard. I cried all day. Lowell came home and tried to comfort me, but it was impossible. Everything I believed was suddenly muddy. I didn’t know what to think or believe.
I don’t know what to do about God saying, “No.” I’ve always thought in terms of hearing Him say, “Yes.”
I still feel that I heard God say (from 2 Chronicles 20) that He was going to heal me. I’m not letting go of that. But I’m not at all sure God won’t allow me to go to the brink of death before He rescues me. The thought of that scares me.
Help me, Lord. Lead me through the valley of the shadow of death.
“Lead me …”
These are the words of a dance partner anticipating a new following pattern.
