Detour

There are certain nights in the life of a small group that just need to be called…heavy. They are the nights when someone shares news that’s tough to hear and the group responds with a deep sigh of concern.  On a Sunday night in December, my small group had one of those nights.  Fortunately for me, I had gotten a heads up on the news to come but for most of the small group, this would come from out of nowhere. 

As we settled on the couches to start our time together, I asked the group a typical and simple question, “So, how’s your week been?” Across the living room sat Rich and Sandy, and I knew they had some tough news to share with us. Sandy let out a deep sigh, looked at Rich and then began to share.  She told of how a routine mammogram had led to a biopsy on some suspicious tissue.  Then came the phone call…it is cancer.  For the next few minutes, the group peppered her with questions.  “Do you think they caught it early?”  “What’s the treatment plan?  Surgery?  Chemo? Radiation?” “How are your kids handling the news?”  “How’s your heart with all this?” Sandy graciously answered the questions to the best of her ability.  It was an honest, vulnerable talk among friends who deeply love each other. We prayed over Sandy and Rich, laying hands on them, pleading for God to heal and sustain her through what was to come.

Soon after, Sandy had surgery to remove the cancerous tissue.  Because it was caught early, there was the possibility that the surgery would take care of it all.  But, the doctors stressed that studies have shown the chance of recurrence rapidly decreases when chemotherapy follows surgery.  The next step would be their choice, and they chose to try to cut down Sandy’s future risks by starting chemo. The doctors prescribed six treatments over 18 weeks, one all-day treatment every three weeks with other medications on the off-weeks. This would mean 18 weeks with each treatment taking a deeper toll on her body. 

Sandy has always been an athlete. She’s a healthy, fit, triathlete.  During the early days of treatment, Sandy stayed active and worked to maintain her typical training regimen. But as the effects of chemo piled on over the weeks, her energy and strength were greatly diminished.  She talked about missing the things she had done in past years like training for the 25K River Bank Run or getting ready for her next triathlon.  You could tell there was real sorrow over losing some things that cancer and chemo had taken away.  But, you could also tell that she was treating cancer like she was running a marathon—with perseverance…strength…one step at a time…get to the finish…celebrate.

Sandy and Rich’s journey reminds me that life can be littered with detours, many of which are unexpected and disappointing.  It is spring in Michigan and orange cones are finding their way back to roads telling us that road construction season is upon us. It won’t be long before I’ll be flying down the road to a destination that I feel is important just to be stopped in my tracks with a construction backup.  But, if I’m paying attention, I may see a sign leading me down an alternate road that should get me to where I need to go.  It’s called a detour.  Detours are never our first choice. We only use them when somebody forces us off our chosen path. They usually aren’t the most direct route or on the best roads.  They are often backed up, slow and filled with tense, bitter people in a big hurry—angry because they are unexpectedly late. But eventually, a detour takes you back to the road you need to get to your destination.

As you read the stories in the book of Acts, a detour theme seems to be rising off the pages. The new church that was formed through the Holy Spirit’s work in Peter’s preaching is threatened with a wave of persecution. Stephen, a church leader, is stoned after passionately preaching about Jesus and sins of the religious establishment.  As a result, the church is scattered. People lose their homes, their jobs and even their lives. Why? What could possibly be the purpose of that horrible pain? What good could come from having this fledgling church get the snot kicked out them? You’d think they’d fold or go underground. Instead, they became stronger, bolder and more passionate about their message. 

The week before Sandy’s final chemo treatment, she talked with our group about what she had experienced on her detour called cancer. There was no bitterness or tension in her voice.  Fatigue?  Yes.  But, there were no words of disappointment or anger regarding her recent journey off the path.  Instead, she talked about the good things she was learning on her detour—like empathy and compassion.  “Having been sick for the past few months, I have a much deeper heart for those who are suffering,” she told the group.  As she spoke, I thought about how beautiful pain with purpose can be.  God had used Sandy’s detour to create something fresh and new in her, perhaps not possible without this adventure in her life. 

Just before Stephen is stoned, we find this verse. This is the attitude of a people willing to endure purposeful pain for the good of Jesus.

The apostles left the high council rejoicing that God had counted them worthy to suffer disgrace for the name of Jesus. And every day, in the Temple and from house to house, they continued to teach and preach this message: “Jesus is the Messiah.” Acts 6.41-42 NLT