The Power of the Testimony

The power of the testimony was amazing at our Good Friday service this year.  Each one who shared had a different story of suffering, and how God was with them and got them through it.

                     

Jimmy and I are blessed to know a lot of the “fill in the blank” details on our son, Chris’ testimony, and I thought you might enjoy hearing a little more of our journey with cancer.

Did you know Chris has been under chemotherapy treatment for five years?  He goes through a regiment of four days of nauseating, diarrhea-producing chemical infusions every 3 to 5 weeks up at Monmouth Medical Center.  He calls it his “poison week” and posts on facebook when poison week is over.

Chris doesn’t remember some of the details of his first two months after being diagnosed with cancer.  But Jimmy and I remember them vividly.  We were advised that, with treatment, Chris, then 26 years old, might live another six months or so.  Within a few weeks of his initial diagnosis at Newark Beth Israel Hospital, Chris became bedridden because his legs were so swollen with fluid that he could not stand on them.  Shortly thereafter he developed an ulcer and began vomiting up blood.  He was rushed into emergency surgery, a scope inserted down his throat as the doctors tried to cauterize the ulcer.  Right after the procedure, Jimmy and I were with him in recovery and he once again began vomiting up blood.  Chris was so weak by then that another procedure was not possible.  He was put in the ICU, and given multiple pints of blood.  The doctors told us that they had no way of knowing if the ulcer was successfully cauterized and the blood he vomited right after the procedure was from the blood left pooling in his stomach, or if the ulcer was continuing to bleed. 

One of the nurses took me aside and told me that while she was getting Chris settled in ICU he told her he was afraid of dying in his sleep.  After she had gone, I talked with Chris about his fears.  “What will happen to you if you do die in your sleep, Chris?” I asked.  If you know Chris, sometimes his answers are not immediate.  He paused, and said, “I will be with Jesus.”  He dozed off after that.

We kept vigil at Chris’ bedside all night long.  I felt like I was breathing my prayers.  With every inhale and exhale I was begging God to heal my son.  Emergency prayer requests went out via phone calls and emails.  I told Chris’ brother and three sisters that if the bleeding had not been stopped, it was possible Chris would not live through the night.

Sometime around 6 a.m.  Chris woke up and looked at me sitting at the foot of his bed.  “I’m still alive,” he said.  And we both laughed. 

Chris did not vomit any more blood, so we knew the ulcer had been successfully cauterized.  Better than that, he began telling the nurses he was hungry.  They were reluctant at first to allow anything into his stomach, but finally allowed clear fluids, than soft foods.  The pastors of Shore Vineyard came later that first day in the ICI, gowned up and prayed over Chris.  By the next day, he was transferred out of ICU and back to the regular cancer ward.  

Chris began chemotherapy, and Shore Vineyard Church began fasting on Thursdays and coming together to pray for him on Thursday nights (in our pre S-HOP days there was only one prayer meeting on Thursday nights, 7 p.m. to 9 p.m.).  Jimmy and I would drive up to Newark every night after work to be with Chris.

One Sunday, as Jimmy and I attended church and then got ready to leave for Newark, Pastor Brett brought us up front and placed his arms around our shoulders.  He addressed the church and told them that from now on, “Chris is your son, your brother”.  I cannot describe the amazing feeling we would have when we were sitting with Chris on a Thursday night, knowing that you all had his back, and ours, that you were depriving yourself of food, and giving up your evening to cry out to God for my son, now your son.

In addition to the prayer warriors in our church, there have been many other faithful family and friends who signed up to receive the prayer emails we send out on Chris’ behalf.  I hear from you often that you are still praying, and rejoicing with us along the way. You are all family now.

Chris was discharged from Newark Beth Israel in mid-January, 2009.  He was down to 125 pounds and very weak.  Five years later he has a pot belly and a hearty laugh.  He spends his days listening to worship and bible teaching online and on the tv.  He prays Psalm 91 over himself every day.  He loves to be in church every week.  He serves in the Thursday evening session at the Shore House of Prayer.  Our Friday night Redwood Group often hears Chris upstairs singing and worshiping with the World Revival Church in Kansas City as we meet downstairs.  And I echo with Apostle John, “I have no greater joy than this, to know that my children are walking in the truth”. (3 John 1:4)