Homecoming

I was on a flight less than an hour from landing in New York City when the first plane hit the twin towers on 9-11.  My 9-11 journey had changed me. I was no longer just an American—I had become a patriot with a deep understanding of how precious my freedom as an American citizen is.  And when I was finally able to put my feet back on American soil…well.  That was quite a homecoming. 

Those same emotions overcame me just two weeks ago as we made the long journey to join my family for our 47^th annual Trail Ride in the Badlands of North Dakota.  We had not been able to go last year, as I was in the middle of chemotherapy treatments for breast cancer, and my doctor said I needed to stay within 100 miles of the hospital.  It was devastating not to be able to experience that homecoming in 2012. But here we were…one year later, anticipating a homecoming that had somehow become even more precious because we had been denied our homecoming the year before. 

When we turned onto the gravel road to Little Missouri State Park, Vern and I giggled out loud together.  We had ached for this day, and it was suddenly upon us and our joy was uncontainable. 

5AM the first day at Trail Ride, Jesus woke me up.  “Get up!”  And so I jumped out of the camper, just elated that my king wanted to spend time with me during my favorite time of the day.  I walked the grounds of the park in my pajamas, telling Him that He is my King.  My All.  My Rescuer.  It was the opening ceremony of a precious homecoming, and Jesus was the perfect host.

But the enemy worked on me hard.  Over the precious days of Trail Ride, old fears occasionally lurched to the surface.  But I had experienced that before, and I knew what to do.  I stood up and began to list the names of God.  To claim again and again that I was a child of the Most High God, and that the enemy had no right to be in my space.  The battles were fierce, but the light of THE ONE who lives in me blazed brightly.

The King of Kings had me grinning ear to ear nearly every waking moment of that homecoming.  I had been weary from the journey.  Battered by the enemy.  But Jesus lifted me UP.  Way up, until I giggled with delight like a toddler.

Beloved, He invites us to come to Him—ALL who are weary—promising to give us rest. (Matthew 11:28)  That is what homecomings are all about.

The LORD sure does know how to host a homecoming event.

And that wasn’t even the big one…

I'm an Undercover Secret Agent (and so are you)

It started out as any other normal morning in the Garling house.  Everybody had to get up and get to school or work.  And I should have been suspicious right there because everything that morning went way too smoothly.  So smoothly that I ended up at my gynecologist's office 30 minutes early for my appointment.

I thought Miss Connie, the receptionist was going to fall out of her chair.  I am never on time for much of anything and she knew that well. 

"Why, Nancy!" she said in that cute Texan accent, "Your appointment isn't until 10:30!"  I mumbled something about needing time to just sit around (which made her laugh hysterically--she knows me too well) and took a seat in the waiting room.

The waiting room was packed with women, but one in particular stood out because she was bald.  And I kept looking around the room waiting for someone to ask her about it, but nobody said a word.  A few minutes ticked by, and I started to get that weird feeling that I was supposed to talk to her.  OK, I'll bite.

"Excuse me, did you have cancer?"  I asked her from across the room, "I had breast cancer last year, and just wanted to know how you are doing--are you doing OK?".  She looked up, and all those other eyes looked at her.  You could just tell that they had all been wanting to ask her, because there was an audible sigh of relief in the waiting room.  Someone had finally dared ask the question.

And as we talked for the next 20 minutes, she told us her heart about the whole thing, and words of encouragement and understanding poured from my mouth.  A few other ladies chimed in about their experiences with relatives or friends that had been through cancer treatments too.  Then she left to go see our doctor.

A few minutes later, I got taken back to my room.  Doc burst into my room thanking me for taking the time to talk to her because her entire attitude about her situation had changed. 

That's what happens when you become the hands and feet of Jesus.  You move people.  You inspire people.  You encourage people.  Whether it is apparent or not, you do these things.

When I went to check out, Miss Connie leaned across the desk and said in that incredibly cute Texan accent, "Miss Nancy, I do believe you had a divine appointment right here in this office today!  Gives me goose chills just thinking about it!  She (the other cancer patient) is a changed woman!"

Miss Connie can call that a divine appointment, but I prefer to consider myself an undercover secret agent for the Lord.  You see, now that I have had cancer, I connect with cancer patients and cancer survivors in ways I could never have done before.

You know, some people out there think that I got cancer because I did something wrong.  That it is punishment for some sin I committed.  Oh, you don't think there are folks out there that think that?  You are wrong.  So are they.

The truth is that God intended for me to be a missionary in the field.  Not to Haiti, or Mexico, or even to the soup kitchen in Dallas.  No, my mission field is the countless doctor waiting rooms and walmart lines I am at on a regular basis.  To scan the crowds for bald heads on young bodies, and be ready to proclaim that the only hope worth investing in is what we find in Jesus.  Because guys, it is those who are hurting and sick that need Jesus the most.  I minister effectively to them because I understand what they are going through.  I have never been more certain of my purpose.

Now please don't misunderstand me to say that those who have not been through cancer are ill equipped to minister to cancer patients.  That is not what I am saying at all--I have been personally blessed by my support team through all of my cancer journey, and very few of them had experienced cancer themselves.  They were--and continue to be--a source of great comfort to me, because they cared enough to put aside some time to stand alongside me.  Precious stuff. 

What I want you to hear is that the next time something happens in your life that appears tragic, and you ask God, "Why me?" I hope you will lean into it and realize that the answer is clear.  You are being trained as an undercover secret agent for the Lord.  You are being equipped to connect with the hurting of this world right where they are.

Gives me chills.  I think about my friend Sandy, who lost her son to a car accident a few Christmas seasons ago.  She is devoted to a Grief Share group that need her encouragement--they are drawn to her.  I think about the Hallmark family and the Watts family, whose children are going through cancer treatments as we speak.  They burn with the light of Jesus in those hospital rooms and hurting families going through the same thing are drawn to them.  Their mission field is where the hurting are waiting.

Hands and feet of Jesus.

Nancy Garling, Undercover Secret Agent for The Lord

A man without a computer is like…

Most of you probably think that I have always loved Vern.  Not so.  In fact, I used to beg God to get him out of my life. 

Then we became friends.  Only after I found out he didn’t have a computer. 

And then he asked me to marry him, and I got really mad.  I called my mom. 

“Well, Nancy, did you ask the Lord about this?”  My mother.  She’s so subtle with me, isn’t she?

“Well, NO, MOM. “ Said with definite undertones of sarcasm.

“Then I suggest you get off this phone and go to the Lord.”

Phone went click, and the Holy Spirit was so strong in the air that you could just feel the heaviness.

And so I tried to reason with God.  Because I thought that the Lord and I had a good thing going.  It was just the two of us, and bringing Vern into the picture, well…that was going to cramp things up a bit.   And was He aware that Vern was a TEXAN?  For crying out LOUD...!

But the Lord was going to have His way on this one, so finally I said,

“Ok, Lord, I don’t understand your plan here at all, but I will do it out of obedience. “

Yep, that’s how it all started. 

But it didn’t stay that way.

God had a plan for me and He gave me Vern to help me get there.

And so here I am.  Healed.  Growing.  Joyful.  Content.  Trusting.  And loved, loved, loved by My God and my husband.  I couldn't have imagined it would be like this!  

But God knew.  And I am thankful to the core for the man He gave to me.

I’m so crazy about you, Cowboy!  Happy Birthday from your country girl.

Oozing like Ethan

I met him last Wednesday night at church.  He was easily recognizable in a room packed with 5th and 6th graders, because he was bald.  Only one 12-year old kid I know that runs with those boys who is bald.  Ethan Hallmark.  Cancer fighter.  Cancer survivor.

Even from 10 feet away, I could tell this kid was different, and I wanted to figure out why. 

And then this morning it struck me.  That young man oozes conviction about the Lord's faithfulness.  He doesn't even have to say one word.  You can just feel his resolve to trust in the Lord. 

And I realize that I want what Ethan has.  I want to be so totally consumed by conviction of the Lord's faithfulness, that it oozes right out of me.  Yeah, that's the kind of relationship I want with the Lord. 

I'm a work in progress.  But I will say that after fighting cancer myself, I know I'm closer to oozing like Ethan.  Learning to cling to Jesus no matter what your circumstances and knowing He will be faithful to you is a process.  It takes time.  You have to learn to drink deeply from that pool of resolve.
And the enemy hates you for it every time you do it.

Make no mistake.  We have all faced the enemy, and done our share of shrinking into a corner rather than call out to the Lord.  But then sometimes--hopefully more often as we learn to trust the King of Kings--rather than shrink into a corner, we choose to look the enemy in the eye and say, "You know what?  Sometimes you make me feel defeated.  But not today.  Today I choose to trust in the Lord's faithfulness.  Peace out!"

He has been faithful to you, Beloved!  He has redeemed your life from the pit, and He crowns you with His love and compassion (Psalm 103:4).

Ooze, Baby, Ooze!

Can't make me shut up

Now, you first have to appreciate that I have presented in front of 500 plus scientists at a time.  Lectured to over 100 post-grad students in one sitting, taught 60 plus 5th and 6th graders a few times, and wrangled a class room of pre-schoolers for ten years before that. 

But nothing made me sweat quite like the presentation I made this morning.

That's how I knew it was from God.  Because Nancy would never have thought this one up.

I had bought a big bag of chocolates to take to work today.  You see, today marks the one year anniversary that I am cancer free.  On this day one year ago, Dr. Leitch at UT Southwestern removed a grade 1 breast cancer with clean margins and no lymph node involvement.  It was a great day, and I wanted to pass out multitudes of chocolates at work today to celebrate.

I'm still going to do that.

But God took it that one crazy step further and suggested in my heart that I do the same thing on the DART bus this morning.  And on the train.  And on the shuttle across campus. 

So I did.

"Can I have your attention please?"  I croaked out as I stood up on the DART bus.  "Today, I am one year cancer free, and I just want to invite you to have a chocolate and remember the sweetness of Jesus' grace and mercy on me today."

They all clapped, and the bag of chocolates started going around the bus.

The lady in front of me is cancer free 9 years.  The lady beside me said a prayer over me.  The man behind me and the man in front of me thanked me for sharing.  Several said that I had made their day.

You see, people crave to hear good news.  And this morning, God used me to give them some.

So do not fear, for I am with you.  Do not be dismayed, for I am our God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.  Isaiah 41:10

He has lifted me up, and I am compelled to lift my life up to Him.

Satan stands in the wings trying to convince me otherwise.

But I am a cancer survivor.  And he can't make me shut up about the greatness of God.

How this cancer survivor stopped letting the enemy into my space

She's so petite, that when she sat at my desk, you couldn't even tell she had sat down.  It was last Wednesday morning, and Rachel, a petite woman with a thick Indian accent had come to my office to ask me a question.

"Nancy, were you sick last summer?"

I sat back and told her that yes, I had had breast cancer last year, and went through surgery, chemotherapy and radiation.

And for the next 30 minutes, the Holy Spirit spoke directly to me through this petite woman with the Indian accent.  She told me that she could feel the Light of Jesus on me, that she knows I have experienced a miraculous and complete healing, and that I continue to let the spirit of fear rule over me.

Wow.  And I didn't even know she was a Christian--and I have known her for 15 years.

"Nancy" she said in that fantastic clipped Indian accent, "When that spirit of fear comes over you, do you know who it is that is pushing that on you?"

She didn't give me time to answer.

"Nancy, that is Satan pushing on you.  The spirit of fear does not come from The Lord, Nancy, that comes from Satan.  You must recognize it for what it is, stand up and rebuke him in the name of the Lord.  You are a daughter of the living Christ!"

She was so excited, I thought for sure she would be standing up.  Not that I could tell from this side of the desk (see the first sentence if you don't get this).

When she left, I remember thinking how merciful The Lord is to send someone in the middle of this very ungodly environment I work in to bathe me in His Word...using a thick Indian accent.  Fabulous!

Then two days later, I was back in that pit of fear.  Oh, you know for some cancer survivors, every little bump or tender spot has the worst case scenario attached to it.  Especially for a professional pit dweller such as myself.

I had let Satan into my space.  And I let him smolder in my space, tasting the ashes of doubt he flung in my air, choking on the smoke of despair he filled my space with.   It took me 2 days before I had the savvy to call a trusted friend and let her know where I was at.

And she called it for what it is by asking me a question. 

"Nancy, that Indian lady...she proclaimed to you and confirmed that God had given you a miraculous healing last year.  Do you trust God to have done it?"

Well, up until that moment, I thought I did.

And Jesus said to her, "Daughter, your faith has healed you.  Go in peace and be freed from your suffering".  Mark 5:34

I don't read anywhere in the Bible where that daughter of the Lord came back to touch His robe again, just in case it hadn't worked completely the first time.  I like to think she left His presence that day, grinning ear to ear and proclaiming Jesus to whoever would listen.

That's where I should be.  That's where you should be.  For we have all been redeemed.

So I stood up from my pink camo chair on my back porch dressed in my pink and white fleece pants and flip flops and I spoke in my teacher voice, "Satan, you are in my space, and in the name of Jesus, I command you to GET OUT. This is NOT your space.  I belong to the most high living God!"

And just like that--I kid you NOT--just like that, the peace of God which passes all understanding flooded my space and I breathed the cool crisp clean air of Jesus.

Everyday is a brand new mercy.  So say Hello to a new you, and stop letting the enemy into YOUR space.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UG6Aa3DIg9Q

Coping with Joy

The best part was Nicole asking me on a fairly regular basis, “Are you doing OK?”  Because I didn’t cry.  Not once during the whole thing.  I mean, I whipped that bandana off, stuck it in my bag, chatted through the foil, teased Nicole during my shampoo, listened carefully to instructions during the fussy part of how to get my hair to look like that again tomorrow, and I was….

Fine.

Until the very end as I was about to step out that door into the street after it was all done. 

And then the tears rushed.  Nicole was pressing tissues into my hand, and stood with me while I stared at that door.  I sensed it was a big moment, and I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

It wasn’t fear.  It wasn’t sorrow.  It wasn’t anxiety.  No, those are big feelings that I am very familiar with.

It was…

Joy.  No, more than that.  It was jubilation.

And I could hear Jesus say to me “WOMAN, THOU ART LOOSED”.

And then I was grinning.

You see, just like the woman in Luke 13:12, I was afflicted with a horrible disease.  And before I even knew I had breast cancer, Jesus answered my need.

But my main need was not to be cancer free.  Oh, I got that too—but the need I really had was to be released from a lifetime habit of living in the slimy pit of Psalm 40:2 and live instead in the joy of being redeemed. 

But for me, that slimy pit was comfortable.  And my bandana reminded me of that slimy pit I was in.  It blanketed me in the comfort of fear, sorrow, and anxiety that came with being a cancer patient.

I know, it may seem backwards to some of you.  But I also know there are more like me out there, too.  People who are more comfortable with their slimy pit epics than they are the joys of a redeemed life.  People who cope with joyful moments, but in the back of their minds are always focused on the slimy pit.

You know who you are.

Make no mistake.  I experience joy and love life.  I am genuinely thankful for the blessings I have.  The smile on my face is not fake.  It’s just that most of the time, I am more comfortable experiencing the slimy pit. 

But in those steps I took from Nicole’s place into the street, I stopped being a cancer patient and I became a cancer survivor.  A woman loosed.  Out of the pit.

It is MY YEAR OF JUBILEE.

I am not sure you can understand what it feels like.  Maybe this picture will help.  You are in a giant box whose walls are covered with paper.  You keep peeling away papers looking for a way to get out, but there is just always more paper.  But you keep on peeling the paper off, and it gets deep around your feet.  But you just know somewhere there must be a door.  Or a window.  Or at least just a little crack of light that you can look out at something else for awhile.  But instead, there’s just more paper, and soon you are shoulder deep in papers that you have peeled off the walls trying to get out.  So then, you stop focusing on getting out, and start focusing on how to organize the papers so that you at least have a spot to sit.  And pretty soon, you are so busy organizing papers, you forget all about the quest for a door to get out, and instead focus on a lower expectation of just a bare spot on the floor to sit on.  And then—POOF!  All the papers and the walls made out of paper are gone.  And you stand in the bright sunlight with green grass as far as you can see and blue skies smiling at you in every direction and part of you is like, “HEY!  Where are my papers?  I worked a long time on that project!” 

You need to learn to cope with joy.

But it takes a while.

It takes a while to realize you are seeing beyond those walls.  It takes a while for it to sink in that you are seeing green grass and blue sky in every direction.  And then you take one step onto that grass.  And then another.  And then your steps get faster, and you are running with all your might across that green grass, pumping your arms and legs with all you are.

And the Father of Heaven who loves you so much is right there next to you running and grinning with you.

It is your Year of Jubilee.

So…new project.  I need to learn how to cope with joy.  Because I desire to run with all my might across that green grass, just as the Lord intended for me.  To get there, I am going to do three things.  First, I am gong to let the Lord know my intentions.  I want to honor Him by accepting the jubilation He offers me with both hands, and to do that, I am going to need His help.  Second, I am going to read the Book of Philippians every morning for the next 30 days.  Paul the Apostle wrote that book while he was in prison, and it is full of joy—what better way to immerse myself in the idea of joy than that?  Third, I am going to read Beth Moore’s book “Get out of that pit!”   There is nothing more powerful than the testimony of someone else who has been a professional pit-dweller.

Who knew a simple haircut could do all of THAT?