Persevering...through the Dog Days

I don't know what "the dog days" represents for you, but with my cancer, I always knew the dog days would come, and that they would be some of the hardest days for me.

I have 2 dogs, and when I look at what their day consists of, it goes a lot like this: bathroom break, couch. Food break, couch. Dreaming of food while on the couch. Bathroom break, couch. Being subject to whatever some human left on TV, as they lay on the couch.

I knew that the hardest days would be the days where I felt weak and worthless. Where I couldn't get up and do the many things I wanted to do-needed to do-because the energy and the brain power just weren't there.

Exactly one week after every chemo, comes three or four days where my activities mirror that of my dogs-thus the dog days. There's a lot of laying on couches, a lot of resisting to even get up to take that bathroom break; a lot of eating; a lot of dreaming of chocolate peanut butter Haagen-Dazs; and a lot of watching mindless TV.

The results are a draining of passion, a question of purpose, and a feeling (however unrealistic) that I will never be useful again. These, of course, are all lies of the enemy- lies that I am ineffective-which are-in fact-designed to make me ineffective. Never mind that just one day before the debilitating fatigue set in, I was having amazing opportunities to talk about Jesus, had begun writing a book, and was re-organizing my house. But everything comes into question after 2 or 3 dog days.

The Bible says: "We do not want you to become lazy, but to imitate those who through faith and patience inherit what has been promised." (Hebrews 6:12 NIV84) I'm not calling you or me "lazy"-for whatever reason, the dog days come. But I do want us to have the antidote to the discouragement of the dog days. You'll find them tucked away in that verse, they are: faith and patience.

If you're like me, I don't find my weakened faith in the heat of the fire, but in the quietness of the cooling down stage. When nothing seems to be happening, and I'm not sure I am becoming like Jesus at all. I know I was-in the fire-but now that I can't see the heat and smoke, the enemy accuses that I haven't learned a thing and that there is no purpose for me-and there never was.

Step one in defeating the dog days: turn off the TV.
Step 2: turn off the incessant voice of the enemy, and counter it with God's word-the truth that produces faith. And be inspired by the timing of God, which requires patience.

This is exactly what Jeremiah did in Lamentations 3:20-21. He said:

"...my soul is downcast within me.

Yet this I call to mind

and therefore I have hope:

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed,

for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness.

I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;

therefore I will wait for him.” (Lamentations 3:20-24 NIV84)

Jeremiah knew who God was, but it wasn't until he intentionally called to mind the character of God, that he overcame the debilitation of the dog days, and the lies of the enemy. When he fed his faith and patience, he was revived.

When the dog days come-and they will come-be ready to call to mind the word of God that will revive you. Too weak? Have a friend at the ready to remind you of the truth of Who God is, how in your weakness He is made strong...how His grace is sufficient for you. How He is the one that sustains you, the one who made you and will rescue you. If you do that, you will come out on the other side strengthened! And your enemy? Denied.

Worse than

Worse than not looking like me, is not feeling like me...(I think)

Here I am, theorizing again, but now that I have begun chemo, and before it has changed my outward appearance, it has changed the way I feel. Normally outgoing and friendly, ready to join in almost any conversation, I walk through masses of people, feeling fuzzy. The room almost "spinning" as the cliche goes. And just when you're not sure if anyone else can notice how you're feeling-so out of place-a total stranger walks up to you, in a place where you are a "regular", and utters these words: "Are you alright, ma'am?" Ugh.

I found myself identifying (some might say mellow dramatically) with the "Gadarene Demoniac", the man with the unclean spirit, of Mark 5, in the Bible. The story says of him:

"And always night and day he was in the mountains and the tombs, crying out, and cutting himself with stones."

Ok, now even I think that sounds a little mellow dramatic! I'm not saying I was sitting there contemplating injuring myself when the helpful young man came up...I'm saying that this Gadarene guy was not the one cutting himself either. He was merely the guy trapped in a situation where he had no control. Someone or something else was calling the shots. And that is miserable.

Cancer is-at the moment-my "someone or something else" calling the shots...what is it for you? What has you so turned around, that you don't know whether to worship Jesus, or to fear him? (Mark 5:6-7). Is He your cure, or your judge? That can be the question in your head, and like the Gadarene, it was put there by demons themselves. The demoniac (full of demons identified as "Legion") put his hope in Jesus-the demons themselves begged Him for mercy and received it! And what was the outcome? If you know the story, you know a herd of pigs took a demonic leap into the sea...their herdsmen got really freaked out and told everyone in town...they all came out and saw the Gadarene "former demoniac" sitting there dressed and fully looking and feeling like himself again.

Happy end of story, right? Not exactly. The townspeople were scared of the big giant change that had occurred. Sure they had been trying to contain the demon possessed guy for years, tried chaining him, maybe even praying for him...and now, clearly, something huge had broken through. But it wasn't something they felt comfortable with. It had cost them something. Pigs, maybe, or maybe just normalcy. Things should go back to normal...in a normal way. Their brilliant plan to regain normalcy? Beg Jesus to LEAVE.

Jesus did leave. But not in a huff. Not shaking the dust off his feet from the undeserving town. He left there, among them, one abruptly changed life. And this charge to the transformed man:

"Go home to your friends, and tell them what great things the Lord has done for you, and how He has had compassion on you. And he departed and began to proclaim...all that Jesus had done for him; and all marveled."

I don't know what you're going through...I don't know what stage it's in. Are people looking at you side ways, wondering if you're alright? Are they avoiding eye contact all together? Are they asking you how you're doing, and hearing what they want to hear? Are they uncomfortable with the way Jesus is delivering you? Too quick, too dramatic, too slow. Too untraditional? They love you, (or maybe they don't), they want to help you...(or, again, maybe they don't). Just remember, they can't. There is only one Who the winds and the waves and the demons and the substances obey. Put your hope in Him, and you will never be put to shame. And, eventually, all will marvel.


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