“Tim, Will You Do Even This for Me?”: Faith Reflections from a Cancer Oven (#22)

[A note from our Managing Editor: Tim Shorey, pastor and author, is one of our Gospel-Centered Discipleship staff writers. Tim is also currently battling stage 4 prostate cancer. On Facebook and CaringBridge, he’s writing about his journey. We’re including some of his posts in a series on our website called “The Potter’s Clay: Faith Reflections from a Cancer Oven.” To preserve the feel of a daily journal rather than a published work, we have chosen not to submit these reflections to a rigorous editing process.]

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“Tim, Will You Do Even This for Me?”

October 3, 2024

Dear Journal,

Imagine that you’ve walked a good long ways, and you can see up ahead what appears to be the end of the road, only to realize that it is not the end at all. It is a sharp turn to the right, where you find, looming before you another ten mile stretch on a steady, ruggedly steep incline.

That happened to me this week. I’d decided to proceed with some serious oral surgery with the sense that it would only be a couple weeks away. So I thought I might be nearing the end of my bone infection saga—or at least seeing the proverbial light in the tunnel—only to discover that the impending surgery is still actually three-and-a-half months away and is going to be a good deal more difficult—before and after—than earlier thought.

So my bone disease battle is far from over. There are at least a couple of long painful uphill roads still to climb. Which made me think of something that a very dear and circumspect friend, who is not given to hyperbole, said to me on Sunday. In effect, he said, “Tim, I cannot help but believe that you are meant to be a Job for us, a Job-like child of God whose calling is to suffer for the encouragement of those all around.” 

By no means is that the first time this has been suggested, but for some reason it affected me more this time.

As I’ve said before, I do feel Job-like in terms of “kind.” That is, many of the types of sufferings Job experienced, I have, too. But I’d be exaggerating if I said I was Job-like in terms of “degree.” The velocity, intensity, and sheer immensity of Job’s sufferings as recorded in the last half of Job chapter one and chapter two make mine a Sunday picnic.

But I will say this. I may be catching up to Job in terms of “duration.” I don’t know how long he suffered, so I cannot be sure. Admittedly, there is a hint that his sorrows went on for some time since the author of this history separates the phases of his story by the phrase, “Now there was a day when . . .” and then later, “Now there was a day when” and then later, “Again there was a day when . . .” (Job 1:6, 13; 2:1). That language sounds to my ear like there was a fair amount of days in between these days—kind of like when we say, “There was a time when . . .” So it could be that even in terms of duration, Job has me beat.

But the fact is that I’ve had a headache for thirty-five years, lumbar injuries for over a decade, cancer for over two years, a painful bone disease for over a year, and all manner of very long losses and crosses along the way, some of which make my cancer and bone disease feel light and easy, and all, with no end in sight.

And when I talk to the Lord about taking it all away so that I don’t have to deal with it anymore, it’s like he’s saying to me,

I’m sorry, but no, Tim. This is what I have for you. I’ve got nothing else for you to do other than to suffer well and to help others do the same. I know you, Tim. If you didn’t have this cancer and bone disease, you’d be doing all kinds of other things other than the one thing that I want of you right now. I want you to experience—and then to share—my grace and strength in your weakness. 

Tim, will you do that for me, and for those who will see and hear what I am doing in your life? Will you endure severe pain for another half a year? Will you willingly lug that medical fanny pack ball-and-chain that’s tubed into your chest around for another six months and maybe even more? Will you wait another six months—making at least fifteen months in all—before you have a really good, long, hot shower? Will you be uncomplaining, even when other spiritual, personal, and familial ambitions are frustrated by your limited strength and the length of tube at the end of your PICC-line?

Tim, are you willing to climb another ten mile mountain for me—while not even knowing whether or not it is ONLY ten miles more?

Lord Jesus, you have chosen this for me, and I want to be willing and to have the patience of Job (James 5:10–11). But it’s not easy. You’re asking me to take a deep breath and walk right into the furnace in trust that I will survive the ordeal.

And that is very very hard.

Who is sufficient . . . except you?

* You can read all the posts in this series here.

Tim Shorey is married to Gayline, his wife of 45 years, and has six grown children and 14 grandchildren. After over forty years of pastoral ministry, he recently retired from Risen Hope Church in Delaware County, Pennsylvania. Among his books are Respect the Image: Reflecting Human Worth in How We Listen and Talk; The Communion Truce: How Holy Communion Addresses Our Unholy Conflicts; 30/30 Hindsight: 30 Reflections on a 30-Year Headache; his award-winning An ABC Prayer to Jesus: Praise for Hearts Both Young and Old. To find out more, visit timothyshorey.com.