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May 22, 2005
Greetings in the Great Name of Christ Our Lord!
How does one begin? I have cancer. Most of you know that by now. Some of you perhaps are learning this for the first time. If so, I’ll tell more in a moment. But first, let me reaffirm publicly my faith in the goodness of our Great God. There is no Being more worthy of our deepest trust and affections than the Risen Jesus. His hand deals gently. His might and fortitude of will causes every destructive deed of Satan to crumble into the Art of His Glorious Story – the making of a people for His glory, His Image-Bearers, His Children, and His Bride.
How great a Being that he intentionally allows the Evil One to do harm to His people, only to harness that harm for the benefit of His Glory and the Strength of His People. How great is He Who causes all affliction – CAUSES all affliction to bend and break the hearts of His Children that we would not come to love anything more than Him for Whom our hearts were made. And how great it is to abide in that Love. To trust Him and know Him in our darkest times. To live boldly and mightily with Him in our brightest.
On Monday, May 9th I was admitted to North Memorial Hospital in Robbinsdale, MN on account of problems I was having breathing (including pain, fever, etc…). X-rays revealed fluid around my lungs. CT Scans exposed a more serious problem – a mass of foreign tissue the size of my hand lodged between my sternum and spine. The surgeon who later did the biopic procedure called the tumor impressive. Its “fingers” had skillfully wrapped itself around most major organs in my chest cavity. After a week of tests, surgeries, procedures, pain medications, side-effects, and a whole lot of waiting, we were given the diagnosis late Monday the 16th: T-Cell Fast-Growth Lymphoblastic Lymphoma Cancer.
The following day, understanding very little what such a diagnosis meant, Jen drove me to Regions Hospital in Saint Paul where I was to begin Chemotherapy immediately. This was the scariest day of the ordeal so far. We were rushed through a palette of tests and procedures and questions about things I knew nothing about for several hours before meeting with an Oncologist (cancer doctor). My pain medications were weak. My stitches and insides were still recovering from surgery, and the tumor was clearly causing havoc in my chest. At one point, shut behind a curtain in one of the smallest rooms on the floor (dark and crowded), I looked across the bed at Jen and said, “I have cancer,” and began to sob. I only knew then that I didn’t want to fight if I had no chance to live. I didn’t want to die in this place…
We didn’t know then that Lymphoma Cancer tends to be very responsive to Chemotherapy. It’s an intense Chemo – one of the worst – but yields a 90% remission rate among those it treats. We know now that I have a great chance in the medical realm of complete healing, not to mention the sufficient assurance we have received from Christ through His Word. That night, Jen called me from home and said she had just read Psalm 16, and that she felt it might encourage me. What an understated assumption it was. I’ve since been blown away by this passage. It’s hanging from every wall in my room. The whole Psalm speaks so specifically to our circumstances right now, yet there are three verses I’ve pulled out and held onto as the surefire promise of God:
“Lord, You have assigned me my portion and my cup. You have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. Surely I have a delightful inheritance. Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices. My body also will rest secure.”
God Almighty, in His unfaltering good purpose, has allowed this - yet not only that – He has already determined how far the Cancer is going to go, how bad the Chemo is going to get, and how much my heart will be willing to take.
I am believing this Cancer is less about my health and more about my heart. I Peter 5:10 says that “the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered for a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast.” Strong. Firm. Steadfast. Words that imply strength and depth of character, not might of flesh and bone. The suffering – brought on by the malice of the Evil One, becomes a whittling (or melting) tool in the Hands of the Maker, who seeks to shape spiritual vessels for His Glory. He crafts the cup. He pours the portion. I am trusting He is doing this, and as hard as the crafting may become, His hand is ALWAYS GOOD.
“I know, O Lord, that your laws are righteous, and in faithfulness you have afflicted me. May your unfailing love be my comfort, according to your promise to your servant. Let your compassion come to me that I may live…”
The psalmist’s
prayer in 119 becomes one in which he is grateful for the affliction which
causes his heart to become more God’s. He finds that the more he is
afflicted, the more he loves the law of the Lord – God’s
I’m in the hospital for my first induction round of Chemo. I’ve got my own clean-room decked out with hygiene masks and controlled airflow. While the therapy thus far has actually made me feel much better, I’ve been warned darker days are coming. We’re praying the Chemo would be kind to my body and not so kind to my Cancer. We’re praying that my digestive system would continue to do what it must. We are praying that my heart would find its hiding place in God.
Doctors are expecting me to be in the hospital for another three weeks or so. It all depends on how quickly the tumor begins to dissolve, and how quickly my white-blood count recovers from the onslaught of drugs aimed at fast-growth cells in my body. The risks entailed include infections, neutropenia, reactions to necessary blood transfusions, and nausea, on top of the 100 plus side effects possible per each Chemo drug. The most definite result of the Chemo and the elimination of the tumor from my body will be intense fatigue – weariness that won’t wear away with rest. If that’s all I must endure, praise God. Hallelujah!
We’re praying God would shock my Oncologists – every one of them thus far skeptical of God’s promises and my faith in Him. My assigned social worker wrote on her notes two days back, “Spiritual… Delusional?” What a thrill it would be to testify of the reality of Christ’s presence in this place by the irradiation of the Cancer and the sustained Strength of our Mighty Maker in my body! Yet as Rack, Shack, and Benny were led into the fiery furnace, I say with them, “The God we serve is able to save us… but even if He does not, we want you to know, we will not serve your gods or worship the image you set up.”
There is only One True God. And He is Jesus.
After my first month here, I’ll be released to outpatient status for an additional five months of Chemo. I have a permanent IV wired into my aorta, which I’ll hang onto for these first six months, then should be able to switch into oral-maintenance therapy for an additional eighteen months. I will likely lose my hair (betcha can’t wait to see that album cover!). Life will be different for awhile, but I will live. Boy, will I live…
I owe much gratitude to many of you for your prayers and words of hope. Jen and I haven’t needed any sort of devotional guide these days as scripture references continue to pour onto our laps from every angle. You, the Family of God, have been our devotional… How I ache to worship with you all again! How I ache to encourage and edify the People of God to be and become the Peculiar People we are! And how grateful I am that this sickness is not yet unto death. There is life yet to be lived!
Thank you also – many of you – for helping Jen and Aedan through this time as well! That kid hasn’t had this much stimulation in months! All you crazy people take care not to muss him up too badly between now and my time to come (due to his persistent cold and my susceptibility, I may not get to see him again for another month). We’re so incredibly grateful for the support and LOVE we’ve been offered (and received) from you all!
Lastly, please pray for the student ministry at Emmaus in Bloomington, my home church family and place of employment. I was just beginning to catch stride again after the production of the 2005 FLY album (news for some other time) when the Cancer began to rear its ugly head. Pray for our church and for our ministry to our youth. Pray for Godly direction and incredible fruit…
Please reference the website for updates. You may email me at room707@jeremyerickson.com (a temporary account set up for this ordeal). The message board is working. Snail mail still works, too, and the address is listed at the bottom of this letter. Just take care not to mention anything that might spoil my first viewing of Episode III – postponed consequently till sometime late June – perhaps there may still be some of you eager to relive the midnight showing with me at that time. I’ll be honest - I can’t wait!
Be His, and be encouraged. Our Great God is Good. I know this now more than ever…
“For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.” II Corinthians 4:17
His more and more each day, Jeremy
Jeremy Erickson C/O Emmaus Lutheran Church 8443 Second Avenue South Bloomington, MN 55420
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