A Dream Of Heaven

The following story is a work of fiction, obviously. If you haven't read my previous post on Heaven, Homeward Bound, please read that first. It sets up the concept of Heaven that this story illustrates.

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My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. (John 14:2-3)

I awake in my own bed. But it's far more comfortable, somehow, than the bed I fell asleep in. For one thing, it's clearly not a hospital bed. I open my eyes and see a room that's strange and familiar at the same time. It's much nicer than any room I've ever stayed in, but has many familiar objects in it that I recognize. I prop myself up on one elbow, and am not surprised to see Baby Bear next to me, the teddy bear I slept with from infancy through elementary school. His formerly ragged brown coat gleams, and his formerly missing button eyes are now eyes that look real, and shine brightly. I resist the urge to curl up with him again and get out of bed.

Across from the bed is the desk set I had in my teenage years. The closet is filled with every article of clothing I loved to wear on earth, but made of materials I could never have afforded. There's a keyboard and a guitar by a window through which an unearthly light shines. I have no doubt where I am. I'm in my rooms in my Father's House.

Presently, the door opens. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen enters, and smiles at me. "So you're awake," she says. I run to her like I hadn't been able to do since I was in that hospital bed, and we embrace. Sharon looks to me like she did when she was forty years old; blonde and tan. My favorite version of her. But somehow, she also looks both older and younger. I can now also see the woman she became in my absence; a towering figure of strength.

"I'm glad you look like you did at forty," I say to her with a sly grin on my face. 

"What do you mean?" she replies. "I look like I'm thirty!" 

"Not to me, you don't." At thirty, her hair was long and black, and her skin was pale. That was her favorite version of herself.

"When I look in the mirror, I look thirty to me. But others see me at different ages, or some combination," she explains. As the words pass her lips, suddenly she looks like she did when we met as teenagers. It's bewildering and wonderful at the same time. Suddenly, I need to see what I look like.

In the mirror, I look about thirty years old. My curly brown hair is more relaxed and longer than it had ever been on earth, hanging down around my shoulders. The way I had always wished my hair would behave. In Heaven, I'll finally be able to rock my hair. My body looks and feels stronger than my old one ever was. Health and vigor radiate from me. But somehow, I still have the scars on my legs from accidents in my childhood. Then I remember that Jesus' resurrected body had its scars too.

"Stop staring at yourself, handsome," she smirks. "Would you like some coffee?" Coffee! I hadn't had coffee since my old body started deteriorating. Now, with this new body, I crave it. I can smell it brewing in the next room. "I also made some apple pie for you. It's better than I ever could have made on earth. The apples here are incredible." Now I know I'm truly in Heaven.

As we walk into the next room, I see a man I don't recognize. 'That's Josh," Sharon says. "He's just finishing up some work on the room. He's the maintenance guy here. You should see his carpentry work." Josh gets up from his work and walks toward me, smiling. "So glad you're here, Mark. But then, you always have been," he says with a twinkle in his eye. I offer a formal handshake, but Josh gives me a big hug. Somehow, I know exactly what he means. In a sense, I have always been here. My time on earth was a brief visit compared to eternity here.

I walk to the window. A golden city beyond my wildest imaginings appears before me. "Just ask the window to show you anything you'd like to see in Heaven, and it will appear." Josh says. "If you see someplace you'd like to go or someone you'd like to see, just touch the glass, and you'll be translated there instantly." The glass is transparent to the point of invisibility, but when I touch it, it's harder than diamond.

"Is that how we get around Heaven?" I ask him.

"You can, but we also enjoy walking here," Josh replies. "With these bodies, you never get tired. And time never passes, so there's no need to hurry."

A voice comes from the kitchen. "Hey guys, coffee and pie are on!" Josh and I exchange a look. "Her pie really is the best," Josh says. "You were right about that."

The three of us sit down to a leisurely breakfast. Now Sharon's hair is the glorious salt-and-pepper color of her late fifties and sixties, but her face looks no age at all. Or every age at once. I think to myself, "I could get used to this." The coffee makes the brief time I lived without it worth every minute. The pie is, well, heavenly. 

As we eat, drink, and bask in the wonder of it all, people start walking in the door. My parents and sisters are the first to arrive. I marvel at how healthy and strong my dad looks. He no longer needs a cane or a walker. He looks, acts, and laughs like he did before he ever got sick. All of my family seems to share that ageless quality I saw in Sharon.

My friend Galen Koch comes up behind me. I know it's him by his laugh. The pain of the depression that plagued him for decades on earth is gone. His face radiates pure joy. With him is his wife Jan, looking more beautiful than she ever did on earth, and she was quite something there. Another towering figure of strength, molded by loss, like my Sharon.

Their son Tony is with them, as are their daughters Nicki and Athena. All beam with love for one another, and for me. Nicki's beauty shines like the sun. This is a family reunited for eternity, and my heart can't contain the joy.

Right behind them is our mutual best friend, Nikki Nielsen. Her love for Sharon and me and the family she accompanies is palpable. What I could feel before I now can see all around me. The air is thick with love. I see in her eyes the price she paid to be there for us while I was sick and for Sharon after I fell asleep. My eyes fill with tears, and the embrace we share speaks the words we cannot say.

My college professor and mentor, George Dunbar walks in. He looks stronger than I ever knew him on earth. His voice is clear, and his eyes still command that awe and respect that they did in our former life. His wife Linda is with him. Her laugh sounds like bells ringing.

My closest friends during my time with cancer start to show up. Some I'm seeing in person for the first time. The rooms are full of people, but it never seems crowded. I'm surrounded by loved ones. I am home.

One by one, our guests go about their business. Apparently, we have jobs in Heaven. I wonder what mine will be. When it's just Sharon, Josh and me again, I ask Josh, "Do you have other rooms to work on after mine?"

"I always have more rooms to prepare, but since you're just getting started, I thought I'd show you around a bit. Some events are planned for you." I raise my eyebrows. Events? This should be fun. "Your first should be arriving presently."

"That sounds wonderful, Josh," I reply. "But I want to go to the Throne Room. I want to see Jesus."

"He is with you all the time," says Josh. "The light that comes through that window comes from the Throne. There is no sun here, only the Light of Jesus. He will see you when you are ready to see him."

I find this statement impossible to argue with, so I remain quiet. I hear a knock at the door that sends a thrill up my newly cancer-free spine. I wonder who it could be. Sharon just smiles like she knows what's coming. She does, of course.

I get up and answer the door. It's Eric Gillette, standing right in front of me, like he did at Morsefest. The lead guitarist for The Neal Morse Band. His career was just starting when I arrived here. His album, The Great Unknown, helped me through a difficult time in my cancer journey. I did all I could on earth to get his name out. I felt a calling to do so. To see him now, with the wisdom of years in his eyes, he reminds me so much of his dad. Eric is the first person I've seen here who isn't better looking in Heaven. That's because it's impossible for him to get any better looking.

"Hi Mark!" says Eric, with a big smile on his face. "We're so glad you're here."

"Eric!" I cry, "What an honor! What brings you to my door?"

"We have a concert planned for you," says Eric. "I know how much you wanted to hear The Great Unknown live, and I never got the chance to perform it for you on earth. You also never heard any of my subsequent albums. I want to thank you for what you did for me by performing a concert of The Great Unknown, and each album after it, in their entirety. The audience consists of those who found out about me because of you. Come to the venue. We're ready to start."

Earth Mark would have begun crying at this point, but all I feel now is joy. I turn to Josh and ask, "Should we use the window, or walk? You know, I've always heard that when God closes a door, he opens a window."

All three look at me patiently. Apparently they've heard that one before. "Let's walk," says Josh. "It's not far." We walk out of my door onto the streets of Heaven.

Don't ask me to describe it. I can't. Just ask the prophet Isaiah and John the Apostle. When you try to describe what Heaven looks like in earth language, it just sounds weird. It's like describing the most beautiful dream you've ever had to someone, and it ends up sounding lame. I have no eyes for the scenery anyway. What I can't take my eyes off of are the people. Such indescribable beauty, serenity, and love emanates from everyone I see.

Every few steps, someone stops me and tells me of the impact I had on their life. Some were because of music, others because of my testimony. My heart is very full, but never reaches its limit to receive this love. My feet never leave the ground, but I feel like I'm walking on air.

Eric, Josh, Sharon and I arrive at the venue. Eric's wife Jaci appears at the door. Her beauty almost knocks me over. But it's not her outer beauty I see. I see the heart of a nurse. I'm unsurprised to see my oncology nurse, Melanie, and my hospice nurse, Carolyn, with her. The light coming from the hearts of these three is almost too bright to look at.

Eric takes his leave to start the show. The three ladies enfold me in a group hug. Jaci takes us to our places, front and center. "Eric's so excited to do this show for you," Jaci says with a smile. I turn around and see that the crowd looks like about ten thousand people.

"All these people know about Eric because of one Facebook review?" I ask her.

"Not just that," she says. "The blog and the book too. Every one who learned about Eric from you bragged about him to others. Each new fan made more fans, because of you." I'm speechless. "His audience grew much larger than this, but we limited this crowd to those you turned on to his music. But once he wrote that love song that got picked up by a movie, he became a household name."

The familiar strains of the opening title track sounds like the song I've heard at least a hundred times, but more intense and glorious than it ever could have sounded with human ears. The whole concert is overwhelming, and I see the star that Eric became. I can't contain my happiness, and the rest of the concert is a blur of sound, lights, emotion and blessing.

When it ends, I turn to Josh, who is still there with us as my guide. "That was incredible!" I cry.

"It's just the beginning," answers Josh. At that moment, I see Neal Morse walking up to me. Neal was my favorite music artist for the last ten years of my life on earth. His music ministered to me in a unique way during my time with cancer. I'm overjoyed to see him.

"Mark!" Neal calls, "Awesome to see you, man! I know you're not tired, because we don't get tired here. So we have another concert for you, in a larger venue. The band and I are going to perform every album we put out after The Similitude Of A Dream, in their entirety. As with Eric's concert, the audience consists of those who know about me because of you."

'That's why it's good to have these new bodies!" laughs Eric, who has rejoined us. "I can do two marathon Prog shows back to back and never get tired!" My head is spinning from what I've already seen and heard, but I'm ready for more. So we all head out into Heaven's streets to our next concert.

On our way, we pass another large concert venue. EDM - which stands for Electronic Dance Music - pulses from the stage in front of a massive dance floor, which is packed. In the crowd, I can see my friends Derek, Amber, Garrison and Sandie. Derek sees me and gives me a smile. If I know him, he promoted this show. I think I recognize the stunning brunette at center stage. She gives me a wink and keeps on entertaining the crowd, just like I told her to do. It's my friend Anne Bryant, known to her huge fan base as SnoWight. I know we'll get a chance to talk to all of them, so we keep moving.

We arrive at an arena-sized venue. Neal and Eric go backstage, and we're met at the door by Pamela George and Paul Hanlon. Pam just looks at me and laughs. I start laughing too. We're laughing with joy, not just at seeing each other again, but at what Paul is doing. He's dancing. No sign of a wheelchair anywhere. He looks for all the world like a taller, more muscular David Tennant. But like everyone else here, his physical appearance is secondary. His heart is what's making us laugh for joy. 

"Are you ready to jump around like crazy Brazilians?" I hear from behind me. There are our friends Daniel, Kyle, and the rest of their crew. "Their music got even better after Similitude. Can't wait for you to hear it!"

"Good thing there's no waiting in Heaven, then." I reply with a grin.

This arena looks like it holds at least 25,000 people, and it's full. Full of people whose knowledge of this band's music originated with my testimony. I don't know what to say. But I don't get the chance to think of something to say, because that's when the music starts. I look back at the sound booth, and there's Rich Mouser with his Echoplex. No digital delays in Heaven.

Each song sounds like their entire catalog up to that point was merely an introduction to the Main Event. I always thought their music heavenly, but here, it's transcendant. It's a good thing no time passes in Heaven. You never run out of time for epics. I'm not the least bit surprised to see Mike Portnoy up there, killing it on the drums and entertaining the crowd, just like he did on earth. He gives me a knowing look, with a nod that says, "Look behind you." 

I turn around, and it's Trevor Downing, my former atheist friend from England. He hands me a cold one, like we promised we'd share. Only since he's English, he has a room-temperature one. We clink our pints together and laugh. No words are needed.

The emotion of this concert is almost too much to bear. I know this is how this music was always supposed to sound, but our puny human ears and brains couldn't contain it. In Heaven, we hear it in all its God-given glory.

When the music stops, all my friends from Morsefest and the Neal Morse community surround me and share in my ecstasy. I wonder what could happen after this. As though he heard my thoughts, Josh answers. "We have one more concert for you. I think this one will mean the most." 

At that, this vision of a woman comes walking towards me. She looks at once like the girl I knew and the woman I never met. I know her instantly, and my heart leaps. It's my protege, Payton Roybal. She exudes confidence, decades of experience, and professionalism. As I passed from my former life, I wondered if her dreams would come true. Now that I see her, it's all too obvious.

"I'm so happy to see you, Mark!" Payton exclaims. "I missed you so. Like Eric and Neal, I have a concert to perform for you. Unlike them, you never got to hear any of my albums because they all came out after you fell asleep. So I and my band are going to perform my entire discography for you. And again, the audience is made up of those who know about me because of you."

I can't contain my excitement. This really is a dream come true. Our party keeps growing. Everyone I've met so far wants to go to Payton's concert, including the entire Neal Morse band. And of course, they all know about her because I couldn't shut up about her. All of us make our way to the venue. I wonder how large it is.

On the way, Payton and I talk. She assures me that the work we did together made a difference for her. When we arrive, I can see what a difference it made. Her concert is in a stadium that holds at least 100,000 people. And it's jammed. We're greeted by her mom, Marni, and her sister, Delaney. Behind them are my friends Todd and Sandi. We exchange a look and a big laugh. Again, no words need to be spoken. We're together, and that's what matters.

In the crowd, I see many of my friends from The Littleton Conservatory Of Rock. I see the adults they grew to be, and the love they have for me. This is truly home.

The lights go down and the concert starts. On the stage, I see the megastar I always knew was there. She works the stage, pours out intensity, and holds the audience in the palm of her hand. Her voice is so powerful, she needs no microphone, even at heavy metal volume levels. The songs seethe with emotion, and all there are consumed by their power. I realize that this performer before me had reached even higher heights than I thought she would.

"I can see you're proud of her," Josh says in my ear. "I'm proud too. One of the best voices I ever made." I give him a quizzical look. What does he mean by that? Before I can answer, he says, "We have one more event for you."

"The Throne Room?" I ask. 

"A reception your honor," he replies. The guest list is everyone who was impacted by your ministry, whether it be your work in music or the witness you bore during your time of trial. Come." 

This time, we don't walk. The crowd that had gathered with me does not follow. Josh simply motions, and a window appears. We step through, and arrive at our destination.

We stand in front of doors so high, the tops are obscured by clouds. Beings of pure white guard the doors. Josh signals, and the doors open. On the other side is a crowd beyond counting. Millions, as far as I can see, even with this body's eyes. I am overcome. I turn to look at Josh, and realize who has been guiding me since I awoke. The same one who guided me until I fell asleep. Josh. As in Joshua. As in Yeshua. The Carpenter. Jesus had pulled that Emmaus Road trick on me! Now I see him in all his glory. I fall on my face before him, but he touches me on the shoulder and says, "Look, my son. Look upon this crowd who is here to thank you for your faithfulness. Great is your reward."

I remember what he said in my rooms. That Jesus is always with me, and that he'd see me when I was ready to see him. "Go," he told me. "Receive your reward. You see that brilliant light beyond the crowd? That's the Throne Room. When you've greeted every person who is here to see you, follow the light to my Throne. There I will receive you."

What happens next, I cannot tell. I am engulfed by love, gratitude, and joy. With every step, the light gets brighter. I know I am home. #waroncancer #bearingwitness

Homeward Bound

Home, where my thought's escaping
Home, where my music's playing
Home, where my love lies waiting
Silently for me

                         ―Paul Simon

It's time I wrote about Heaven. I'll do it in two posts. In this one, I'll try to explain what my concept of Heaven is, what Eternity is, and what makes Heaven home. We often hear Heaven referred to as home. We talk about going home. But what does that mean? That's what I want to explore in this post. In the next, A Dream Of Heaven, I'll try to imagine what my initial experience in Heaven might be like.

But first, what is Eternity? Eternity is another dimension; a different state of being than what we know. In Eternity, time does not exist. In fact, time and Eternity are opposites. Time and space are part of the physical universe that we know. Beyond the physical universe, or outside it, or above it, is Eternity. Heaven exists in Eternity, not in physical space-time. The observable universe had a beginning, and it will have an end. But Eternity existed before time, and when time ends, Eternity will remain.

This is what the phrase from everlasting to everlasting means. (Psalm 90:2) I think of physical space-time as a bubble. Everything we can observe exists within that bubble. Like the air we breathe surrounds a bubble, Eternity surrounds the universe of time and space, matter and energy.

My point in sharing all of that arcane philosophy is to underscore one of my main points about Heaven: In Heaven, there is no time. Time cannot exist in Eternity. Therefore, in Heaven, there is no past or future. Only an eternal present. And that's one of the things that makes Heaven home.

But before I explain that cryptic comment, let's talk about what home means. Is home a place? Or is it a person or group of people? When you say the word home, do you mean the place where you live? Do you mean the house where you grew up? Or is it something else, something less definable?

For me, home is a feeling. When you first move into a new place, it takes a while for it to feel like home. What is it that eventually creates that feeling of home? There are a number of factors; familiarity, smells, and comfort, among others. But most of all for me, it's people. It's being in the presence of my loved ones. That's what makes a place home.

Since there is no past or future in heaven, that means one important thing. From Heaven's perspective, all of it's already happened. All of history, and all of time that's yet to come for us here on earth is like a distant memory to those who are in Heaven. From the perspective of Eternity, we're already there. This is where I may lose some of you. I don't believe that those who have died before us are watching us here. They're not waiting for us. How can they be waiting when there is no future for them to wait for? In fact, I'm pretty sure that one of the things that makes it Heaven is that there's no waiting.

I believe when I leave this earth, my wife, my family, and all of my loved ones who are still here will have to wait to see me again, but I won't have to wait to see them. When I arrive in Heaven, from my perspective, all of my loved ones will be there, including those still alive on earth from earth's perspective. You poor saps will be still be bound by time, but I won't be.

I think of many dear friends who have lost loved ones and miss them terribly. I'm sorry to tell you I don't believe the one you miss misses you, or watches over you, or waits for you. But it's not because they've forgotten you, or they're so distracted with Jesus right in their face. It's because to them, you're already there.

I believe it's the same for all of us. When we arrive in Heaven, it's like we're the last one arriving at a party. Everyone we love is already there. And it will seem to us like we've always been there. Because from Heaven's perspective, we have. I believe it will feel like home, smell like home, and be the reality of what home was always supposed to mean.

I know there are many for whom home is not a warm, happy place. If you didn't grow up in a happy, loving home like I did, or if you live in a toxic situation now, home may be a place of dread. If you live alone, home can be a lonely place. But deep inside us all, I believe there's a longing for what home is supposed to be. A place of love, caring, support, laughter, and warmth. Whatever your best version of home is, that's what Heaven will be like for you, only magnified infinitely.

There are many other aspects of the afterlife I'd like to talk about, like what our bodies will be, (I don't believe we'll be disembodied spirits, but have resurrected, glorified bodies like Jesus' resurrected body) what our relationships will be like, (Jesus clearly taught that our earthly relationships will not be the same in Heaven) or whether there's really a choir in Heaven with a baritone section I can take over. But that's not what this post is about. It's about going Home.

Home is about love. It's about comfort and safety. It's about being with those we care about. And in our ultimate Home, the One who loves us more than anyone else could is there. He prepared that home for us. All love ultimately comes from him. Everyone who ever loved or was loved reflects his love for us. When we are in the presence of Eternal Love, we are home.

And here's the best part. It never ends. Unlike our earthly home where we are separated from those we love, in Heaven, there is no more separation. We're together forever with the One who loved us so much he wanted us all to live in his home.  

My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. (John 14:2-3)
 

In a little while, I will see this with my own eyes. I'm looking forward to seeing you there. I am homeward bound. #waroncancer #bearingwitness

The Marathon

This weekend was one for the books. It was a marathon. I knew it would be taxing, but I had no idea just how taxing it would be. God got me through it, but I'm starting to understand why hospice patients don't leave home much. All the same, I am not sorry I went through with any of it. And I have no intention of slowing down, because my disease is still speeding up.

I continue to collect symptoms. It seems like there's new one every week. The one that started this week is not very nice, and it's not relevant to this story, so I won't talk about that today. But it's telling that, for the first month of hospice care, I had no symptoms to report to my nurse. Now, I have something new to tell her every time she visits.

The symptom that I was most concerned about going into this weekend was fatigue. That run down feeling I've been having, which seems to be increasing. I can't seem to get enough sleep. No matter how many hours of sleep I get, I still don't feel rested. I'm tired all the time. I had some important events on my schedule this weekend, so I felt I needed some help to get through it.

I told my hospice nurse about this when I saw her last Wednesday. She suggested a steroid called Dexamethason. Say that three times fast. It's supposed to help with energy and strength. I knew I'd need both to get through this weekend, so I asked for some to be delivered. That's one cool thing about home hospice. Everything comes right to your door.

The pills arrived Friday night, and I took one of the pills on Saturday morning. I needed the energy to get through the day, and I'd been told by more than one hospice nurse that I shouldn't take it too late in the day, or it might prevent me from sleeping. I took it at about 7:30 AM.

This was a big weekend for me. On Saturday, The Littleton Conservatory Of Rock, where I am vocal and performance coach, held our first rehearsal for our winter show on January 27th. The rehearsal went from 10:00 AM to 3:30 PM, and that was a short one. I don't need to tell you how important this is to me. Rehearsals are thrilling, but exhausting. I needed energy for that. The steroid worked wonders for my energy level. I felt like I was forty years old again. It was awesome. I still battled some nausea and balance issues, and had to sit down a lot, sometimes at odd moments. But I got through the day with flying colors.

As soon as I arrived at home, Sharon and I headed back out the door to meet our friends Victoria and Andrew. Victoria and I became friends in a support group on Facebook. Her dad passed away of prostate cancer recently. She and her husband Andrew had driven here from Wichita, Kansas, about seven hours away to meet Sharon and me, and visit Denver. We had a dinner date with them Saturday evening. Though I was tired, the steroid kept me going. And I was excited to meet these friends I'd made online face to face.

Our time together was wonderful. We felt like we'd been friends forever. And now we are. When we drove home for the night, I felt good about how the day had gone. I had had enough energy to get through it all, and thought I was tired enough to sleep when I went to bed. But I was wrong.

I could not sleep. The stimulant effect from the steroid kept me awake. As I lay there, buzzing from this steroid, I began to pray. I prayed about the next event of this marathon weekend; my speaking engagement at our old church, Denver First Church. I was scheduled to speak for about ten minutes in two services. I had been praying about this for weeks, but still had no idea what I would say. Each time I prayed about it, I asked God to tell me if he had anything specific he wanted me to share. If I didn't sense him leading me in any particular direction, I'd try to follow where the Spirit led in the moment. Vamping for ten minutes is no problem for me.

I prayed that prayer again last night as I lay there, trying to sleep. This time, God gave me something. A complete, coherent message, lasting about ten minutes, in whole cloth. I got very excited. I ran through it in my head three times while lying in bed, and it stayed with me. I knew what I was supposed to say. I thanked God with tears in my eyes for this message, and asked him to help me do it justice.

Finally, I slept. For about five hours, I think. I awoke at 5:45 AM. I needed to be at the church by 8:30 for sound check, so I thought I was up for the day. But for the third time in eight months, I had an episode like the ones I describe in A Scary Episode and Episode 02. I was overcome by a wave of dizziness, with sweat coming out of every pore in my body. I had to literally crawl back into bed. I laid there for a while, just trying to recover.

I was devastated. How could God give me that message, and then allow this to happen? I couldn't understand it. I thought I'd have to stay in bed all day, and miss my chance to share what God had given me.

I called Hospice first. I explained what happened, and they set up a nurse visit for today. Then I called my friend Shaun, who is the worship pastor at this church where Sharon and I were active for 34 years. It was 6:30 AM, but he was up working. The life of a worship pastor. The services were at 9:00 AM and 10:30 AM. He asked if I could possibly make it to the 10:30 service. We had four hours till then, so I thought that might be doable. I remembered that I got through a Littleton Conservatory Of Rock show the day of my first episode, so as bad as I felt, I knew it might be possible, even though this one had happened much closer to the event time, and I am much weaker now than I was then.

I did make it to the church, but had to move very slowly and carefully. I couldn't stand up for long, so they got me a stool. When the pastor introduced me, I climbed the stairs to the platform slowly, hanging onto the hand rail. It's a big stage, and crossing to the center had never taken me that long before. But I made it to my stool, and delivered the message God sent me there to deliver. The video is on my YouTube channel here.

I went long, as usual. But it was amazing. God was very real. And he proved again that it's not me, it's him. I am so weak, but he is so strong. I should have known he wouldn't give me that message without enabling me to deliver it. That's what he's been doing from the beginning. Using my weakness to show his power. He must increase, but I must decrease. (John 3:30)

I don't know what this experience means with regard to my future. If I can't sleep after taking the steroid, how will I get through rehearsal days? That's a question I'll ask my nurse on Tuesday. I cancelled today's visit. I decided to sleep instead. But I am doing those rehearsals until I can't leave the house anymore. That's non-negotiable. In fact, I still plan on performing in the show.

The last time I saw my nurse Carolyn, I told her the date of the show, and asked her how realistic it is for me to expect to be able to perform on January 27th. She smiled and said I should probably plan on just being a spectator. But I need that goal date. And I need to keep doing what I love. If I don't, I might as well lay down and die. So I want to find a way to keep doing it without a drug keeping me awake. Maybe a lower dose, or a different drug.

You may say it happened because I'm overdoing it. You may be right. But at least I have no more Sunday morning commitments after rehearsal days from now on.

Here's an interesting thing. I just checked the dates, and these episodes have come at intervals of four months apart. The first was in March, the second in July, and this one in November. If that timing holds, and I'm still here next March, at least it will mean I can still get out of bed. They always happen within a few minutes after I get up. But if another one happens soon, I will need to go off hospice care to get it diagnosed. Episodes like that are too dangerous for me now.

But I wouldn't trade this weekend for anything, regardless of the difficulties. For one, I got to hear my protege sing Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns 'N' Roses for the first time. That was worth the price of admission right there. Then to meet such wonderful friends as Victoria and Andrew, and be able to spend some time with them. And to top it all off, my disease knocked me down, but God got me back on my feet and enabled me to fulfill his purpose for me. It was a marathon, but it was more than worth it. #waroncancer #bearingwitness

Jesus Loves Me The Most

My friend Nikki Nielsen keeps telling me that Jesus loves me the most. Every time some incredible blessing falls into my lap, (which has happened regularly these past two years) Nikki says, "See, Mark? Jesus loves you the most." With a smile on her face. We both know it's a joke. I know Jesus loves us all the same. But when I look at the way things have gone since my diagnosis, I'm starting to think she might be right.

Before you think I'm bragging, read the Gospel of John. He calls himself The Disciple That Jesus Loved! Many times! I bet that made him popular with the other disciples.

I've written many posts where I recount the good things that have happened in my life since I got cancer. I don't want to repeat those posts, but I also don't want to stop counting my blessings. They have been many, and they have been constant. Let's start with the mere fact that Nikki is here. I told that story in Providence, Part Two. God brought her here just when we needed her. He did this. Many others are benefiting from Nikki's presence here, but I'm convinced God brought her here for Sharon and me. Because he loves me the most.

I don't know any other cancer patients who love going to their oncology office like I do. I don't know any who have the amount of support I have. I don't know any other cancer patients, let alone those who have stopped treating their disease and are in hospice care, who have the sheer sense of purpose I was given. All of this didn't happen because I'm so special. I'm just some guy, remember? I didn't do any of this. He did it for me. Jesus must love me the most.

A true friend paid our airfare so we could visit our friends in Texas just a few weeks ago. I told that story in Saying My Goodbyes. By the time we arrived, God had held up the construction of my dear Nicki Morgan's house for almost a year just so she and her family would be there in Jan's house while we were there. As soon as we left, Nicki's house started going up. Clearly, Jesus loves me the most.

I wrote and produced weekly song parodies for radio stations for eighteen years, many of them sports-related. For the last several years, my only remaining clients for this service were in Philadelphia and Houston. When sports teams were winning in those cities, it meant extra work for me. Not extra money, just extra work. I had grown burned out on what had been a really fun career mixing music and comedy. It wasn't fun anymore, and I wasn't making much of a living. But I didn't have that much extra work in my last few years of doing that because the teams in those cities weren't that good. As soon as I retire, the Houston Astros win the World Series and the Philadelphia Eagles are 8-1. Jesus must have kept those teams mediocre to lighten my load, and then as soon as I was on the sidelines, he allowed them to start winning again. He definitely loves me the most.

And can we just take one more look at the embarrassment of riches that was Morsefest? Come on. First, a bunch of people we've never met raised more than enough money for us to go in less than three hours. Then, were were included in the most elite VIP group there; The Hanlon Crew. We were put in the front row both nights. The second night, they interviewed me for the DVD, and put me front and center so I'd be in the camera shot for the DVD taping and final performance of my all-time favorite album. What other possible reason could there be? He really must love me the most.

And of course, that's why he has to take me home early. Because he loves me the most. He just can't wait any longer to see me. I'm thinking there's an opening in the baritone section of Heaven's choir. I am totally taking over that section, by the way. I'm thinking the choir director's been bugging Jesus about it. "Thy will be done and all, Lord, but that guy next to the empty chair cannot stay on his part! We need Mark up here!" And before long, I'll be the substitute director. Anyone who knows me knows it's true.

Of course, I'm having fun with this post. I'm not serious. In fact, every one of us can look at our lives and see evidence that Jesus loves us the most, if we care to really look.

You might think I'm crazy to say this, considering my condition. You may be asking, "Wait a minute, aren't you dying of cancer right now? How can you say that?" I say it because I've seen it. I feel it. I know it. And he keeps on proving it.

Though he slay me, yet will I trust him. (Job 13:15) The closer I get to him, the more I feel his love, and the more clearly I see the things he did for me when I had no clue what he was giving me, or what he was protecting me from. When you get to this point, I hope you can see it too. But right now, it sure looks like Jesus loves me the most. #waroncancer #bearingwitness

In A Hurry

For as long as I can remember, I've been in a hurry. Very few things were more frustrating to me than being stuck behind a slow-moving vehicle, or a slow-moving person. Until I reached my fifties, I always took stairs two at a time. I had places to go, and I wanted to make good time getting there.

I have actually thought many times, when I couldn't get around an elderly person who was moving too slow for me, that the less time we have, the more in a hurry we should be. After all, we're running out of time, right? Of course, my attitude about this has changed. But though I'm not in such a hurry anymore, my cancer is.

In a comment on my last post, my friend Trevor Downing said, "You want to stop rushing things, mate. Heaven can wait!" I replied, "I’ve always been in a hurry. Can’t stop now."

I talked in my last post about what I called the first symptom, nausea and weight loss. To give you an update, the nausea has not been bad today, and my weight is steady. There's a constant undertone of queasiness I feel, but I've discovered that one thing I love makes it worse. Coffee.

I've been a daily coffee drinker since I was sixteen. I don't drink it all day, but I generally have three cups each morning, at least. But yesterday, I met a friend for coffee, and only finished about a third of my Grande at Starbucks. I realized that the coffee was making me feel worse. So I drank water instead, and felt better. I felt very little nausea when I got up this morning, but as soon as I started drinking coffee, the nausea came to the forefront.

I also realized that coffee is an appetite suppressant. Dieters drink coffee to curb their appetite. One thing I don't need is an appetite suppressant. So I have to give up coffee.

This is a huge blow. But as a singer, I've had to go on "coffee fasts." Coffee is not good for your singing voice. It's dehydrating. One of my rules for the singers I coach is, no coffee the day of a show. So I'm used to not having coffee for a few days in a row, though I never liked going without. But now I'm going on my last, longest coffee fast. I hope they have really good coffee in Heaven.

No, tea is not a good substitute. What my stomach wants is water, nothing else. I drink a lot of water anyway, so I can do this. But your sympathy is appreciated. I'm sure that, before too long, I'll wish my biggest problem was not being able to have coffee.

There are a few other changes in how I've been feeling, as well. These are both very recent changes, like within the last week. For one, I'm having trouble with balance. Not vertigo or dizziness, just feeling unsteady on my feet. I usually need to hang on to something when I go up and down stairs. I take stairs slowly now, most of the time. But I'm still taking the stairs.

I also have to break a lifetime habit of standing up fast. When I do that now, I tend to feel lightheaded, and need to grab on to something. Its not an occasional thing, like we all experience. It's every time. So I have to learn not to be in such a hurry.

I also feel like my body is running down. I seem to have less energy, strength and stamina every day. I'm sleeping better, so I don't think it's that. I just feel like an old car that there's no point in trying to repair. I'm beyond repair. I've been totaled.

I have to say that I'm a bit shocked at how fast this is happening. I thought I'd have more time feeling like my old self. I even thought I might start to feel better when hormone treatment began to wear off. But that hasn't been the case. I got about a month of hospice care before I started to show symptoms. I expected more.

But I shouldn't be surprised. This is the way this disease has gone from the beginning. Everything has happened faster than predicted. And the rest will too. All my cancer has done is accelerate. Sure, we've been able to slow it down temporarily a time or two, but it always came roaring back, faster and meaner than before. There's no reason to believe that, now that we're not treating it, it will decide to slow down. As a matter of fact, it's spiking.

It's like the expansion of the universe. According to recent observations, the universe is expanding at an accelerating rate. There isn't enough mass in the observable universe to slow it down, much less reverse it. It will continue to expand until the last star dies, and all that's left is a dark soup at absolute zero.

Likewise, my cancer will continue to accelerate until I am no more. Please listen to me, my dear friends. I know I'm breaking your heart right now. I know you don't want to hear this. Neither do I. But I must be a faithful witness. This is happening, and fast. People I love very much are telling themselves a story right now about me living longer than expected. I want to let you down gently, if I can. Please just ask yourself what in my history indicates that I will beat the odds. Not a thing. If past is prologue, we know how this will go.

The cancer cells in my body are not an alien organism. It's not something I picked up from someone sneezing on a bus. It's part of me. These cells originated in my body. That being the case, is it really such a surprise that a guy who hurried throughout his life would hurry toward his final destination? Not intentionally, but because it's how I was made.

If you love me, please stop telling yourself I'll be fine for a while. I'm not fine now. Please don't tell yourself we have plenty of time. We don't. I'm still hoping and planning to do everything on my schedule for the next few months. But with each day that passes, I wonder more and more if that will happen. My cancer is in a big hurry.

I'm sorry this post hasn't been more uplifting. There are no jokes, and God doesn't make an appearance. And I'm sorry I feel the need to put this in your face. But if you care for me, you need to understand what's happening. I will not be one of those who outlasts the six month hospice time period. I will go home with time to spare. It's what my heart tells me, and what my history with this disease tells me. If you want to see me while we still have an opportunity to do something fun, you'd better hurry. Because my cancer is in a hurry. #waroncancer #bearingwitness