By God's Grace

Another Christmas ends, and a new year begins. Packed away are scenes of snowscapes and sleigh bells, snowmen and wise men, manger scenes and mistletoe, silent night in starlight, gold ribbons and bows, scented candles aglow, cinnamon spiced tea and a tinseled Christmas tree. Time to put away the sugary treats. Sigh. I think I drank enough eggnog this holiday season to float a sailboat.

New Year’s Resolutions? None. No need to aim to be a better person; I’m already sweet and humble! No need to try to eat better; I still follow my cancer diet - eat whatever I want. No need to live as long as I can; the Lord has already determined the number of my days (Psalm 139:16; Job 14:5). No need to commit to losing weight; my body will eventually do that anyway. No need to wish for peace; the Lord has blessed me with plenty.

Saturday, the 21st was our Moses Family Christmas. All my youngins gathered at David’s house for lots of smiles, hugs, sharing, praying, and singing. With Jonathan’s encouragement, Martha and Philip surprised us by flying in from Virginia. Even Sara’s dog joined in the fun. We enjoyed watching the grandkids open some of their gifts. A race car set seemed to be the biggest hit. Food was abundant as was the joy. Grandpa (me) sat in the rocking chair most of the time just taking it all in.

A couple of days later, my cancer attacked me pretty hard. Pain medication and rest seem to have gotten me through it. When those episodes happen, I never know for sure if it may be the one that ends in my ‘promotion’. But as I write, I’m feeling better, grateful that the Lord blessed me with another Christmas with my family, yet ready to go whenever He calls. I’m very much amazed that He has kept me here to ring in another year.

And for you, another year to see what God will do in your life. As always there will be ups and downs. But rejoice in the downs (James 1:2-3) because that’s where we usually experience our best fellowship with the Lord. As holocaust survivor, Corre Ten Boon would say, even in the deepest downs, the Lord is deeper still. Each day of the year, may you cherish His mercy, experience His grace, rejoice in His sovereignty, share His love, and live in His joy.

A Missions Story

For my cancer adventure, November gave me some bad days, some not so bad days, and even a few good days. Breathing issues, digestive issues, abdominal pain issues all remain, but this is what cancer does, so no surprises.

More importantly, this is the time of year when we remember the Southern Baptist Lottie Moon Christmas Offering for Overseas Missions. For those who gave last year, you helped our missionaries reach 879,798 people with the gospel, among whom 141,206 became new believers. As you pray about giving this year, I want to share again an occurrence that happened to me exactly 10 years ago, in early December, 2014. I hope it affirms God’s presence to you as much as it did to me….

A late-season tropical storm passed through the central Philippines, unleashing torrents of rain. The windshield wipers clapped wildly as my truck splashed along the muddy road, carrying a load of passengers to the funeral service of Bro. O-ing. Ten years ago he had placed his trust in Jesus Christ, serving Him faithfully through his church until a few weeks ago when, at the age of 63, cancer took away his strength and then his life.

We had to leave the truck along the dirt road and walk the remaining distance to his house. Huddled under my umbrella, I measured each step along the slippery path as mud oozed over my scuffed shoes. Too poor to afford the services of a funeral home, the family had erected a makeshift shelter in the dirt yard with bamboo poles holding up an over-sized tarp. Because of the relentless rain, men were digging little canals around the large tent, channeling water away from the seating area inside. Other men were poking the underside of the tarp with poles, forcing water toward the edge and preventing it from pooling on top.

Bro. O-ing’s sister had asked me to give the message. She told me that most of the people there would not be Christians. Many of them were saying that O-ing’s early death was God’s punishment for becoming a Baptist. Had he not been baptized as a Christian, he would still be alive. The message I was planning to share would dispute such thinking. It would point to the beauty and glory of Heaven, and the rich reward God has for those who live in obedience to the Lord, Jesus Christ.

But the problem on this dark, cloudy Saturday morning was that no one could hear anything. The ocean of rain pounding on top of the tarp made it seem like we were on the inside of a rapidly beating drum. The noise was deafening. As the service began, I prayed, “Lord, this is your message, not mine. The people need to hear it. So, would you please stop the rain.”

There was no letup in the downpour as the opening song began. I could see mouths opening but I couldn’t hear anything coming out. There was no break in the dark clouds above. But during the second stanza, the rain lessened. By the end of the last stanza, it stopped! The ditch diggers laid down their shovels and sat down next to the pole punchers as I stood to speak.

Tropical storms do not easily withhold their bounty. But for 40 minutes, the turbulent clouds closed their doors and the skies were silent. I sensed the Lord’s presence and I spoke with joyful boldness. Later, the sister told me that the message opened the eyes of many to understand the sure hope of eternal life that belongs to those who walk with the Lord, as Bro. O-ing had. After I finished and sat down, the closing song began, and the pounding rain returned.

Two thousand years ago, the skies opened up, revealing a bright star that pointed the way to a tiny manger where the King of kings had just been born. Ever since then, His message of salvation has echoed across the continents. And when any of us are willing to share it, God is willing to quiet the clouds and still the storm so that all may hear.

Political Drama

As I write, our national elections are less than a week away. For me, the political drama has been a timely distraction from my physical discomforts. I’m sure nobody cares about my opinion, but I’ll give it anyway 😊. 

A win next week for traditional values (free speech, religious liberty, limited government), would usher in a welcomed reprieve from the accelerating onslaught of the Progressive Movement (anti-Christian wokeism, economic socialism, governmental control). But no matter who wins the election, Progressive ideology is firmly entrenched in our institutions (education, commerce, entertainment, etc.) and will find ways to continue its relentless march toward apostasy.

Even if Republicans regain the reins of government, I still sense an imbalance. Instead of an emphasis on being hard working, morally responsible, and God-fearing, the focus seems to be more on economic growth and national prosperity. Lacking are the Biblical imperatives of “love thy neighbor” and “righteousness exalts a nation”. As our American founding fathers understood, only genuine Christianity can bridle wayward hearts and bring us good governance.

Still, it will be a welcomed victory, albeit a temporary one, to see Progressives fail in their many malicious attempts to keep Trump and a conservative government from pumping the breaks on their liberal agenda. Fortunately for us Christians, while we take our vote seriously, there are more important priorities than politics, like making Christ known, raising our family, strengthening our church, and pursuing holiness. Only if America turns to Christ will “God shed His grace on thee.”

As for my cancer adventure, the first 2 weeks of October were a bit rough, but the latter 2 have been better. Shortness of breath motivated me to schedule my first in-person doctor visit in over a year. My breathing issues seem to be caused by increased tumor activity in my lungs plus a cancer-compromised diaphragm. Many of my blood markers are increasingly out of range.

But it’s been nice to live long enough to see the current political drama play out, and it appears that I will make it to my 67th birthday next week. Yet, when Heaven finally comes for me, I will not, for one second, miss the evil and chaos of this world. In Heaven, beauty will be everywhere, love will abound, happiness and peace will last forever.

My First Cancer Alert

Sunday is seldom a day of rest for pastors and missionaries. On Sunday, March 19, 2017, I drove an hour to one of our Filipino churches where I preached the morning message, followed by a church lunch potluck. After arriving back home in the early afternoon, I prepared for and then traveled to lead a weekly Bible study. The sun was setting when I arrived back home.

Monday was usually my day of rest, but I awoke the next day with an annoying left abdominal pain. I tried ignoring it, but the pain increased. By 11 a.m., I was writhing on my bed with the most intense pain I had ever felt. What was going on? Finally, I forced myself to drive to a nearby hospital (same one where Sara and Jonathan were born) and checked myself into the emergency room.

As the doctors tried to figure out what to do, the pain reached its greatest intensity. Thinking the worst, I managed to call a Filipino friend who lived nearby, and he immediately came to my side. I forgot to consider that his wife was the WMU president, and by the time the doctors checked me into a room, a small crowd of well-wishers had arrived. By now the pain was ebbing and an x-ray and ultrasound revealed nothing abnormal. The doctor ordered an enema to preclude colon obstruction. When the nurse entered for the required procedure, the crowd was ready for the show. But I politely explained that Americans were particular about privacy and their momentary exit from the room would be appreciated.

By late Monday night I was finally able to sleep. When I woke Tuesday morning, the pain was mostly gone, but my abdomen would remain sore for several days. I was discharged without any explanation for what had caused the pain.

Nearly 2 years later, the incident repeated itself. In early 2019, I was living in a mission house in Fort Worth when intense abdominal pain, same location as before, left me doubled over on the bed in agony. I considered calling 911, but I endured the pain to see if it would begin subsiding, and by early afternoon it did. As before, I was sore for several days. I didn’t consider cancer because for more than 10 years I had no evidence of its recurrence and had considered myself practically cancer free. So, I dismissed the event once again.

But when it happened a 3rd time later that year in September, I realized I could dismiss it no longer. I was scheduled to return to the Philippines in a couple of months and I knew I had a better chance of discovering the cause while still in the U.S. What followed in October of 2019, exactly 5 years ago, was a series of tests – blood work, C.T. scan, pancreatic biopsy, and PET scan, that confirmed my kidney cancer had returned and was metastasizing, beginning in my pancreas.

I made the decision not to pursue treatment (too expensive), but I figured I had enough time to return to the Philippines to conclude my ministry there, sharing with them the joy I had despite my diagnosis. When the pandemic hit in early 2020, I was unable to travel to Manila for a follow-up PET scan. In June of 2020, abdominal pains made me think that my cancer was advancing rapidly, as kidney cancer usually does, and I chose to return to the U.S. following the resumption of international flights.

Now, here I am, 5 years after my diagnosis. Oddly, even though the cancer has spread throughout my body, I have yet to experience the level of pain I had on that Monday morning back in 2017. With my arsenal of pain meds, I hope I don’t have to. But cancer can be mean, so I’m expecting anything could happen anytime. Until then, and even during then, I know the joy of the Lord will be my strength.

I Am Blessed

I didn’t know her name. But I did know she was dying of cancer. The whole neighborhood knew because her screams of pain could be heard through-out the day and night. She had a daughter, Cherry, who had given up her last year in college to take care of her mother. Cherry couldn’t finish college anyway because all the family’s money had been spent on medications. Now there was none. This kind of story is common in the Philippines.

Dan and Kathy were missionary volunteers who came to Iloilo in 2008. They told me about the lady with cancer and I went with them one morning to see her. The disease was eating away her body, and I heard her loud moans and groans well before we arrived at her place. Her ‘house’ was nothing more than a tiny cinder-block store front. She lay on a hard bamboo table in the tropical heat with her daughter, Cherry, fanning her. When the money dried up, the rest of the family had left. Now she was desperate for help, any kind of help.

When Jan passed away in 2007, I had kept 2 bottles of her morphine pain meds, thinking I may need them if my cancer returned, since pain medications were hard to come by in the Philippines. That morning I had brought one bottle with me and I gave it to the daughter with instructions to place 3 drops under her mother’s tongue every few hours, or as needed. Finally, the mother was able to rest, sleep, and experience minimal pain before she passed away 2 weeks later. On the positive side, Dan and Kathy ‘adopted’ Cherry, supported her and helped her finish college.

In my 35 years as a missionary to the Philippines, there were several times I ministered to people during their last days, some of them in very desperate circumstances. Some might think that my situation is a bit desperate. I have 2 massive tumors squeezing my insides, causing discomfort and pain. I have cancerous nodules all the way from my neck, down my spine, in my lungs, and through my abdominal area. It’s been over a year since my last CT scan, so no telling where the cancer has spread to since then. Most of my days are spent trying to minimize discomfort/ pain.

But the truth is, I am blessed. I have a comfortable place to sleep in an air-conditioned room. I have plenty of food. I have a flush toilet (a luxury in many parts of the Philippines) and I can take a hot shower anytime. When needed, I can take pain medication. The IMB supports and cares for me, more than I could ever ask for. I have a family who looks after me and friends who pray for me. Best of all, I have the peace and joy of knowing I’m safe in the Lord’s merciful hands and He will carry me to Himself at His appointed time. For all these reasons, I am blessed! 

Just a While Longer

As my cancer spreads, the month of July gave me both good and bad days. Digestive problems and abdominal pain remain the primary issues. Still, symptoms are mostly manageable. Four years ago, soon after returning from the Philippines, my oncologist gave me a prognosis of 1 to 2 years. Those 2 years came and went. Two years ago, my oncologist gave me a written prognosis, dated July 22, 2022, that said my “current prognosis is likely on the order of 1 to 2 years.” Well, it’s not that the oncologists were off on their estimates, it’s just that cancer is so unpredictable in the near term.

On the positive side, my joy in the Lord and my eagerness for Heaven have not subsided. I have no fear of death (only of needles, pain, and not being able to care for myself!). Physical death is my door of passage to all the glorious things that the Lord has prepared for those who love Him: knowing Him more, filled with understanding, freedom from sin, enjoying Heaven’s riches, and so much more.

I believe it’s focusing on what is to come that keeps me excited for the future, even as cancer takes its unrelenting toll. It’s anticipating what I will gain that takes away the sting of physical death. It’s visualizing what I will see that gives me peace and keeps me smiling.

However, if I focus on what I’m leaving behind, I can easily slide from happy to sad. Nowhere is this more poignant than in thinking about my grandchildren. When I returned from the Philippines, I didn’t think I would have enough time to bond closely with Christy and Amy. But after living near them for a year and a half, and being with them several times a week, I realize how sweet it would have been to see them grow and to have a part in their lives.

Now, I’ve spent the past year and a half living with Nathaniel, and now with Rebekah who recently celebrated her first birthday. Nathaniel is my little buddy who enters my room each morning wanting to eat cereal and listen to me tell a story about Winnie the Pooh. He loves being tickled, tackled, tossed, and sometimes teased. He gives me a big hug each night before going to bed and tells me, “I love you, Grandpa.”

Rebekah is one of the happiest little girls I’ve ever seen. She will crawl into my room, come to where I’m seated, grab my pants and pull herself up, reach out with her arms, asking to sit in my lap. She greets me with a big smile and squeals with delight when I play with her. There are times when she will affectionately lay her tender head against my shoulder and I find myself whispering a quiet prayer, “Lord, just a while longer, please.”

A Feeling

One of my family’s favorite movies is Lord of the Rings. It begins with these words: “The world has changed. I feel it in the water. I sense it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost.” In regard to my health, at this point, I think I could say something similar: My body has changed. I feel it in the water. I sense it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost.

Up until now, most of my cancer symptoms have not been major. But with 2 large, growing tumors and multiple cancer metastasis, it’s hard to foresee how much longer this can continue. There have been indicators in recent weeks that my body is on the verge of experiencing significant complications. I may be wrong, but “I feel it in the water…” Much of what I used to do, is lost. My anemia and compromised lungs limit my breathing and endurance. My eye disease limits my vision. My large tumors limit my movements.

But I’m not complaining. When I returned from the Philippines exactly 4 years ago today, I didn’t think I would live another 4 months. But, like an old car about to run out of gas, I’m still sputtering along, doing what I can to help others along the way. My eagerness for heaven has grown. My love for the Lord has deepened. My joy in the Lord has increased. I can still sing with anticipation, “When I die, Hallelujah by and by; I’ll fly away.”

One thing I still feel, that has not changed, is my burden for the lost - those who don’t treasure Jesus Christ. I still remember a pivotal Sunday afternoon in 1981. I was a single volunteer on the Philippine island of Mindanao, on my way to share a gospel message to a group of farmers. The day was hot, the road was dusty, and the walk to the farm was long. As the dirty, smelly farmers entered the little bamboo house, the Lord spoke to me, “Mark, this is what I want you to do the rest of your life.”

My body has now changed but my calling has not. It’s frustrating for me not to have the strength and means to express my calling in more meaningful ways. I miss my brothers and sisters in the Philippines and the task of church planting. About the best I can do now is challenge each of us to remember that the Great Commission Jesus gave wasn’t just for His disciples, or for missionaries, but for all of us – God’s Church. Please click and watch this 2½ minute video and welcome the opportunity to pray, give, and/or go as the Lord leads.