Two falls and a flamethrower (cancer update)

I'm a bit late with this cancer update. I've been a bit worn out and exhausted and as today I've had about sixty days of diarrhoea which really doesn't help.

Things are going tolerably well, thank you. I had a fall--two falls actually--on late Friday night and early Saturday morning about ten days ago. Neither caused any injury but seemed to be coming from side effects from the drugs.  

I was particularly surprised that in both cases it took me at least 15 minutes to get back on an even keel, after which I lay down and clung to the bed for dear life. (For various reasons no family members were close by so I couldn't raise the alarm)

 

When help was at hand my wife called the ambulance and I was admitted to the SAN hospital in Wahroonga (Sydney, Australia) for observation. 

 

Short story: all the numbers from my blood tests came down low where they should have been high: neutrophils, potassium, sodium, platelets, red blood vessels, white blood cells. Because of my lowered immunity I had somehow managed to contract norovirus and a common cold. 

 

I promised a short story did I not? Ok. Upshot: All of this is to say that I am stuck at the San at least until the medicos are happy enough with my numbers. 

 

As for the flamethrower; the cancer trial treatment that I'm on seems to have thoroughly nuked everything in my bloods and we are now in rebuilding mode, so that I can go home and get back onto the treatment.

Short visits to hospital welcome but people will need to be masked up and asymptomatic of any cold or flu. Even more welcome: prayers to the one who took our sins and all our infirmities upon himself on the cross, and now lives and reigns on the throne of grace. To him be glory and honour and power forever.

Oh and grandson Louis is doing very well indeed. The rest of the family are doing a sterling job of looking after him.

Drugs are good, m-kay? And cancer update (Cancer’s bad, ja?)

 

Dexamethasone is keeping me awake at 2.37 am, Star-date Thursday 27 August 2026, and I am loving it. Means that around the house I am cleaning things up, sweeping stuff down, returning to computer and self editing as I go. 

Give me a call , find out where I or we the family are, and come and use the toilet in the bathroom. It’s never seen better days. If you arrive at the right place there may be one toilet, or maybe three, depending on availabilty. There are dog parks with facilities close by. You don't need details. Message me at my home address, which is Facebook.

Due to overwhelming public demand (thanks Andrew Cole and many confreres) and second only to a gold Logie in importance, let me try and systematise the last eight months, done in point form to keep brain on track. 

1.     Yes, when you have Stage IV bowel cancer, it doesn’t go away, and eventually the few million cells that didn’t die will start to get the sense that they can run around and get up to shenanigans left, right, and centre.

2.     That is exactly what is happening.

3.     I would insert a Bible verse here but I invite others to contribute their own favourites.

4.     So the bowel cancer is doing what cancer is doing and is once again spreading, including an olive sized lump at the top of my right jawbone. My oncologist Stephen Clarke, who is about my age, said “I’ve never seen this in my entire career. Please stop doing unusual things.”

5.     I said OK will do.

Hmm, what next, what next.

1.     They zapped the growth at the top of the jawbone and were able to report that it hadn’t permeated through to the brain. That means that I’ve lost at least one reason for losing my train of thought, but this is good news, yes? 

2.     The tumour on the RHS jawbone has pretty much disappeared. 

3.     The cancer trial continues and so yay. There is no indication that it is not yet not working. Comprende?

May I give you two short verses that are sustaining to me. They may also be sustaining to you. Read!

1.      Paul’s letter to the Philippians says “To live is Christ, to die is gain.” (Philippians 1:21)

2.      Paul also tells us that the Lord, Jesus, has prepared good works in advance for us to do. (Ephesians 2:10)

OK so the drugs are wearing out and I am almost ready to progress to the next stage. Which is falling asleep, or playing around on Facebook, or waiting for sunrise. Who knows? The Lord only. I follow James 1:5 at this point, and invite you to do likewise:

If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him. (James 1:5)

Radiotherapy, and reading print Bibles

The radiation therapy is done: Five brief and painless treatments over five days. Now, as they say with bushfire preparations, the status is 'wait and watch'. Still plenty of activity going on, including paid work looking after a dachshund and attending the funeral of a good friend who passed to glory too young, having been diagnosed almost accidentally twelve months ago. Farewell, dear brother Andrew.

With all this extra time on my hands for sleeping, I am doing just that and expect to do be doing more. In between times and as able, I keep up with family and think thoughts, including this latest on why I no longer read the Bible quite so much.

That's the cancer bit: here is the thought.

On not reading my print Bible.

Whilst many well meaning Christians with whom I agree tell me to read my Bible, I actually haven’t read a print Bible with any regularity for years. In fact, as I told one of my church friends at St Barnabas East Roseville, I’ve generally stopped reading the Bible in whatever format, at least as part of my daily diet.

These days--as I reassured (or possibly not) my nonplussed friend,  I mainly listen to the Bible–just like they did in the first century for most of their Christian lives. Is that bad? Admittedly, I generally listen on my mobile phone. It helps that I sometimes drive through Sydney traffic, a situation in which actually reading a print Bible is generally uncalled for. I'm not certain you will be prosecuted for doing so when stopped at the lights, but surely days are coming.

Related to do this I am trying to tell my completely blind father the gospel and have not suggested yet that he should try a print Bible, as much as some Christians insist this is the only way to go. However if I can get his Metaglasses working for more than six hours at a time, I will definitely put a print Bible in front of him so that he can listen to it, should he choose to do so. 

Argerich plays Bach

 

Watch and listen here:

https://youtu.be/BRBHSy4l6bM?si=BN_WGYw6b29FJQqn

Radiotherapy: First of five

 First radiotherapy yesterday. Second today. Third tomorrow. Fourth Thursday. Fifth and final, Friday.

Painless and brief ten minutes in the microwave (or whatever they call it).

No cancer news is good news, until.

Greetings all and after huge public demand, welcome to a cancer update!

Family and some friends will be aware that in the last couple of weeks, as mentioned on my Facebook page, I've had some recent cancer news. Here it is, as up-to-date as it can be as of 5 June 2026.

About six weeks ago now I noticed what looked and felt like an infected lymph node at the top of my right jawbone. Naturally I self-medicated with some old antibiotics I found in a drawer somewhere [warning and disclaimer: this is not wise and you shouldn't try this at home]. It sort of worked, and then I went to the doctor who agreed with my likely self-diagnosis and got me onto some broader spectrum antibiotics that got rid of the infection. 

However the lump at the top of the jawbone remained, and I thought that this might prove to be a job for Dr Pimple Popper. [warning, not for the fainthearted. The name should tell you enough]

Having got past the stage of self medication, wiser people than me called for an ultrasound and a biopsy. And yes, it was actually serious. This is a recurrence of the same Stage IV bowel cancer that was diagnosed back in January 2022, and has been to this point quite successfully kept under control, as you can see in earlier blog posts. And yes, the right side at the top of the jawbone is a very unusual place for it to appear. In fact my oncologist, who is close to retirement age, said he'd never seen anything like it and asked me to "stop doing unusual things".

Anyway, yada yada yada and I've seen a radiation oncologist who is now lining me up for some radiotherapy treatments in the next couple of weeks.

Since letting people know, many people have been kind enough to phone or send messages, and have been assuring me of their prayers. Thank you very much!

Several have asked for more specific information regarding how this appointment and others have gone since, so here you go:

The appointments so far

The appointments have gone well, explaining options and resulting in some decisions. The main options are radiotherapy, surgery, or possibly both over time. So I opted for radiotherapy, because there's less risk to my parotid gland and the facial nerve on the right side of my head. Facial nerve damage from surgery can end up looking like Bell's palsy.

I will get a 'Hannibal Lecter' style mask made up today in order to hold my head still while they zap the tumour. I asked if I got to keep the mask and they said yes, which means I also get the opportunity to wear it out on public transport and at church. Fun times. Don't worry niece and nephew it's your friendly Uncle Gordon. (Sorry parents)   

Then there will be five short sessions of radiotherapy spaced out over the next week or two, which will hopefully burn the worst of the tumour and leave open the possibility for some clinical trials that they would like to move me onto.

I'm mercifully free of side-effects, apart from fatigue and a bit of nausea occasionally over the last four-and-a-half years since Stage IV diagnosis, and hoping that will continue. My capacity to work has diminished, but thankfully the amount of paid work I need to do has also diminished. The lymph nodes on the right side of my head consistently feel a bit achy but hoping that will improve with treatment. Still avoiding painkillers.

I have less capacity for thinking and writing, and more capacity for sleeping on demand. Swings and roundabouts hey? Learning contentment with the limitations that God has given, and praying for the good works God has prepared in advance for me to do. (See Ephesians 2:10)

*****

Also remembering a very good friend, Andrew Donohoo, who yesterday passed to glory some six months after his initial cancer diagnosis. We saw some memorable Bob together, and God willing we will do so again.

I checked out

 I checked out from a Harris Farm vege place a few years ago. 

The friendly older lady on the checkout responded to some observation I made about some stock being missing (can't quite remember). 

Oh yes, she said, we've got a few Jews working here--implication being that theft was a problem associated with them. 

I was shocked and to my shame I said nothing. I even knew one of these Jewish people who worked there. Gutless response by me. Caused me to rethink how I respond and now I try to do things differently, starting with "I have good Jewish friends."

Steroids

 Hey don't hate on steroids. They prompted me to make an update:

After about three years of target treatment for Stage IV bowel cancer the treatment's been adjusted, as was probably inevitable, to more standard chemotherapy. A bigger cocktail of chemicals and I just did #2 treatment yesterday--they go fortnightly.

As part of it, they dosed me up with steroids again. A sleepless night with a racing brain, involving some video watching, some cleaning, some lifting things and moving them somewhere, no not much praying and Bible reading so sorry everyone who is into that.

I find these symptoms interesting and continue to watch and observe at a superficial level. It propels me into busyness and hey, if you're a busy person good for you but I thank God that we don't have to be. (Look up 'Sabbath', all you who view busyness as virtue).

That said, a reasonably busy day ahead and let's hope my God-given gift of being able to sleep anywhere, anytime, does not return until sunset. He has also given me the gift of liturgical dance yet despite numerous hints to many in my church, no one ever asks me to do that either privately or publicly. (As Kamahl used to say: "Why are people so unkind?")

Latest surgery--a good one, with a bad dream, and a Bible reading

 

My latest surgery--a stoma reversal--went for a  few hours on Frlday 12 July, 2024. There was a lot of scar tissue that was moved away, that had resulted from the cancer (diagnosed stage four bowel cancer, 6 January 2022). Had great care from hospital but as far as food goes, only fluids since Friday. That may change today, we shall see. The colo-rectal specialist, Dr Salama, says that so far the results are very good.

 I will probably go back home on the weekend. Thankful as always for the kindness and support of friends and family!

Meanwhile I have been having this recurring dream that I am upset or concerned about some matter, and so I go to seek a friend or call to them in the next room, maybe even phone them. We start talking, they are friendly enough, then I notice that after I've kept speaking for a while, the phone has gone dead. At which I wake up, notice that the phone contains no record of the call I just made, so I phone someone else, and they do the same thing and end the call. Or did I only think I phoned them??

After which I wake up and decide to phone my Bible study co-leader Noddy. I am quite sure that I've written three Bible studies with my co-leader Noddy by this point--1 John 5, 2 John, and 3 John. Weird. and recursive. Oh well, at least I got a few good Bible studies about it.

I need to break this cycle so please don't phone me!

But they are great passages from John's three letters. Here is 2 John for your reading pleasure and edification, with a key verse highlighted that tells you why I don't update this blog more regularly:

2 John

English Standard Version Anglicised

The elder to the elect lady and her children, whom I love in truth, and not only I, but also all who know the truth, because of the truth that abides in us and will be with us for ever:

Grace, mercy, and peace will be with us, from God the Father and from Jesus Christ the Father's Son, in truth and love.

I rejoiced greatly to find some of your children walking in the truth, just as we were commanded by the Father. And now I ask you, dear lady—not as though I were writing you a new commandment, but the one we have had from the beginning—that we love one another. And this is love, that we walk according to his commandments; this is the commandment, just as you have heard from the beginning, so that you should walk in it. For many deceivers have gone out into the world, those who do not confess the coming of Jesus Christ in the flesh. Such a one is the deceiver and the antichrist. Watch yourselves, so that you may not lose what we have worked for, but may win a full reward. Everyone who goes on ahead and does not abide in the teaching of Christ, does not have God. Whoever abides in the teaching has both the Father and the Son. If anyone comes to you and does not bring this teaching, do not receive him into your house or give him any greeting, for whoever greets him takes part in his wicked works.

Though I have much to write to you, I would rather not use paper and ink. Instead I hope to come to you and talk face to face, so that our joy may be complete.

The children of your elect sister greet you.

Day surgery

 Greetings all.

For the sake of completeness, let me record that I had (apparently successful) eye surgery today.

If you are not interested in the details, scroll on down, ignore most of this post, and see a sermon I preached about a week ago.

Had some eye surgery today. Seems to have gone well. Let's see! Done under local anaesthetic. Advantages: It's pain-free. It's not general anaesthetic. You can't see anything.

Now if you're squeamish, don't read on. Stop now, scroll by. Nothing to see here.

If you are not squeamish, and have a list of things you don't want to overhear while in surgery, maybe add them in the comments. Bad eye puns also welcome.

It has to be said that while the procedure was and is pain-free, you can still feel it going on. Most of the time it feels like pressure on your forehead or nose from the surgeon's hand. It also feels like tugging, or in some cases, pulling out eyelashes. In a pain-free way.

I've never done that, but it is what I imagine pain-free pulling out of eyelashes might feel like to someone who was having their eyelashes pulled out in a pain-free way.

You also get to hear the whole conversation going on above your head, while you keep saying to yourself: "Don't move. Don't flinch. Don't sneeze. Don't cough. Don't twitch. Take a nice slow deep breath. Oh and did I mention: Don't cough. Relax. That went on for about two hours and forty-five minutes.

Meanwhile, I now have a collection of things that you don't want to hear surgeons and anaesthetists and nurses saying as the procedure proceeds. The humming and soft singing to herself of the nurse is fine. The nurses counting together the surgical accoutrements is faintly reassuring, except that they're not counting sheep, they're counting something that seems like they could be cotton buds and available sutures.

That said, here is a list of words and sounds I thought I heard over nearly three hours. The list will be inaccurate because it was supplemented by my imagination, and I was unable to take notes for obvious reasons.

Oh also, I had my left eye shut because quite early on as I was wheeled in, I realised I could see myself reflected in the casing over the lights, and then in the lenses of the equipment some short distance above my head, and realised I didn't want to see anything at all for the next three hours. When I finally opened my eye I realised that they had placed a veil over my face. I felt pretty sure they had, but I didn't want to check and I didn't want to ask because when your mouth moves, your face moves, and sudden movements are not called for.

OK OK the list, I hear you ask.

1. Chats about friends of the doctors' colleagues who had gone to live in France for a gap year, partly to engage in a medical fellowship and partly to consolidate their children's French. Mention of another colleague who lived on the shores of Lake Geneva in Switzerland and it seemed to be working out well.

2. A sudden end to the conversation which appeared to signal that the procedure was under way. Nurses humming, singing softly and counting in the background. Specific instructions, of which I'm only going to give you the ones that lodged in my brain or that I imagined but felt real. But feel free to contribute your own experiences in the comments.

3. "Clamps."

4. "Could you just dry this out please?"

5. "Could you wash this out please."

6. "OK I'm going to bisect."

7. "How many [cotton] buds do we have left?"

8. "I need [piece of equipment]. Have we got [piece of equipment]? No don't worry about getting it from elsewhere, we'll make do with what we've got."

9. "Could you set up the long needle please."

10. "How many [something else] do we have left? We will need more."

11. Nurses counting together: "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15."

12. Specialised pieces of equipment named after famous people. "Diesendorfer". "Speer. I need the Speer." Or was it "Spear"? Couldn't tell, just one thing requested and requested twice.

13. The 15 degree cutter please.

14. "Increase the pressure please." "How much?" "Right up to the maximum, no not 3000, 10 000. Straight away."

15. High pitched whining noises that suddenly go up in frequency, possibly accompanied by request for the Speer. Bit blurry on this.

16. "Andrew I'm going to need your help here. There's a lot of blood."

17. "Increase the pressure please. No, right up."

18. "This bit's really tricky Andrew, watch this closely. I remember one lady with a condition and she had had at least a couple of trebuchets [?] which.... "[exact detail fails me--GC]

19. "Cut me a length of thread for the suture... yes that's fine"

20. "How can we have run out of thread? OK just give me that."

21. "Get me the forceps. No not those forceps, the maximum grip forceps. Actually give me both."

22. "Scissors."

23. Snip. Snip. Snip. Very soft snips, quite close to my face.

24. And so on and so forth. Deep breaths were taken. 

  And here's the sermon: Quails and plague, from Numbers 11-12.

https://www.stbarneys.org.au/2024/05/numbers-11-12-quails-and-plague-gordon-cheng-12-05-2024/

 Did an interview on facing death as a Christian, and other matters.

How are you?

When I first got diagnosed with stage IV bowel cancer I was quite surprised that medical receptionists would routinely say to me, as I walked in to my appointment, “Hi, how are you?”

I was tempted to respond “Well given that you’ve got my diagnosis open on the screen in front of you, and given that you’ve probably seen a heap of patients in my situation, maybe you should tell me?”

Or even, "What do you mean? I'm dying. And how are you?"

But despite the testimony of my wife, I'm not quite that unkind.

Current situation: God is kind, I am well, no evidence of tumour growth for quite a while now. Treatment projected to be lifelong, side effects have been minimal. Anyway. How are you?

(Oh, and it's good to be kind to receptionists. The correct answer is "Good thanks. How are you?")

Happy Christmas. There weren't three kings.

Happy Christmas to all. There weren't three kings. Here's a sermon I preached on that yesterday on Christmas Day, from about the 40 minute mark. 

But really, happy Christmas. May God bless you and keep you. 

Cancer remission, radioactivity, and hope

 Greetings all. 

Yes, I am in remission as mentioned in the previous post. This is the truth, and God is good!

But. as also mentioned, that doesn't mean a complete cure (something doctors are a bit wary of declaring).

Remission as I understand it can be either partial or complete. Complete remission is being cured. Partial remission is what I'm in, which is still most excellent. Technically it means that the original tumours are undetectable and have remained so after a period of thirty days.

However, new cancer activity is not unusual.The radiation oncologist tells me that it is like when you have a nest of rats in your house that you eliminate by poisoning all of them. One or two survive, and if they survive, they may re-establish a new colony. So the best thing to do is find another way to kill them as well.

This seems to me a fairly non-technical explanation but it does make sense, yes?

In my case, radiation doc tells me that this means five short sharp blasts of radiation, of which my first happened yesterday, my second happens tomorrow, my third happens on Friday, then we go Monday and Wednesday of next week.

I wanted to ask to hire the radiation gun and then just see if I couldn't treat myself at home.

Anyway that is what we're up to, the previous good news remains great news and we continue.

Meanwhile here's a sermon I preached on Sunday on the topic 'Anxiety and depression'. Pick it up at about the 44 minute mark. Some stop-start glitchiness but it does work.

Remission

I had some good news this week. My oncologist, having considered the PET scans from the previous Friday, was ready to say for the first time that my cancer is "in remission".

This doesn't mean it's gone, but it does mean that it's going. In fact, there's nothing of the original cancer tumours that remain at any detectable level. There is a small lesion--new activity--in the liver, that I'm seeing a radiotherapist about today to decide on the next best step. 

But the current big picture is that I was diagnosed with Stage IV bowel cancer on 6 January this year, and now there's almost nothing to be found. Family are pretty happy, as am I. Who knows what will happen next? God does, and this is his plan for our good and his glory.

In the meantime, Christmas approaches. If you care to sing carols with our church on 18 December, then come along. God is good!

And, a Bible verse:

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)

This is not about us (none of it, at any time). It is about our great God and Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ.

Will I make it to the end? A sermon from Hebrews 7

Last Sunday I preached on Hebrews 7, 'Will I make it to the end?' You could also call it 'International Man of Mystery'. Key verse:

Consequently, [Jesus] is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them. (Hebrews 7:25)

 

A carrot, a stick, and entering God's rest

 I preached a sermon recently about entering into God's rest, wuth carrot and stick. You can hear it from about the 23 minute mark.

A podcast interview: cancer and mission

 I recently did an interview with a good friend, Mark Peterson, about cancer and mission. 

Mark Peterson is the director of the Church Missionary Society in South Australia and the Northern Territory and he wanted to ask me about both topics.

About half an hour of listening; you can find the podcast here.

In it I refer to these Bible verses, 2 Corinthians 4:17-19:

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. 17 For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, 18 as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

And hey, if you've got the mood for listening to more, then the slightly longer--and much more marvellous than me--St Matthew's Passion is here:

Or if you can only spare 60 seconds, my favourite section is this repeated theme. (Beloved Jesus, what has thou done wrong That they have pronounced so hard a sentence? What is thy guilt, into what sort of misdeeds Hast thou fallen?)

Oh and cancer treatment continues very well. Stamina increasing. No news is good news. Oncologist (whom I saw today) remains very happy.

I preached a meaningless sermon.

I preached a meaningless sermon on Ecclesiastes 6-10.

You can see it here from about the 33 minute mark.

Oh and the cancer treatment is still working fine, as far as me and my oncologist can work out.

God loves a cheerful oncologist (20 July)

Actually the saying is that 'God loves a cheerful giver' (2 Corinthians 9:7)

But in my case a cheerful oncologist is the next best thing. Last catch-up we had was last week. He asked about nausea, skin rashes, general plumbing functioning, fatigue, and made an appointment for mid-August. Told me everything was going well, just keep taking the medication and getting the treatment and we would see how things continued to progress. Not even the need for a scan.

So that's all good and if you've only just logged on to discover the latest...that's pretty much it!

But let me not pass up the opportunity to link to my sermon on Ecclesiastes 2 from a couple of weeks ago; I appear at about 24 minutes and 30 seconds.

Or, for those who prefer melancholy and pain to cheeriness, here is a marvellous Johnny Cash version of 'Hurt':

Another meaningless sermon (not a cancer update)

 I preached another meaningless sermon. Why meaningless? Listen from about 25 minutes, here:

https://youtu.be/oFf8QZDFPIQ

Prayer, miracles and medicine (cancer update 30 June)

 The news from my oncologist continues to be good. He is pleased with the progress of my cancer treatment, which he says is in the top 1% of positive responses. I've not had any bad nausea or side-effects and that's great. At the moment it's just keep going with taking tablets and getting a fortnightly infusion of medication, previously weekly. So our family continues to thank God and I continue to avoid crowds (COVID and flu are never good companions at the best of times).

As anyone who's had contact with cancer knows, good news can turn into bad news quite suddenly, so we here in the house of Cheng are not being complacent about what the future may hold. It is a matter of daily trusting in God's goodness, whatever happens.

Is this a miracle? It feels like it. Yet I hesitate to use such language. Partially at least this is because any improvement comes in clear response to the latest medical treatment, and the extraordinary privilege of having such treatment close to hand and significantly subsidised by the Australian government and administered by amazingly gifted and hardworking medical professionals.

Mainly I would want to insist, along with anyone who reads their Bible carefully and trusts what it says, that God is in control of the smallest detail of life. That includes the efficacy of any medical treatment, and the response of the body he has created to that treatment. To suggest that some good response to cancer treatment is not a miracle is in no way to detract from the power, sovereignty and goodness of God. Rather the opposite. The fact that he controls both the extraordinary and the mundane, the eternal and the quotidian, the miraculous and the daily detail of life--all of this is to credit greater power and authority to his name. He does not merely control the freakish event, and leave the rest of his creation to roll on largely disregarded. Matthew 10 says this:

 Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. 30 But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. 31 Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows. 32 So everyone who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven, 33 but whoever denies me before men, I also will deny before my Father who is in heaven. (Matthew 10:29-33)

Indeed the extent of God's power and authority over our lives gives us grounds for an even greater (and right and proper) fear of what he is able to do. That same passage says, in the previous verse "And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell." (Matthew 10:28)

He is a good God, and a loving God who would gladly give his own Son to death on a cross to reconcile us to his eternal grace. Yet alongside this he is a holy God with the power to cause or cure cancer, and use all events for our good and his glory. One day we will face him as judge. May we also cling to him as our Saviour; whether from cancer or a far worse fate. And may we joyfully rejoice that he is inclined to save us not only from cancer but from our sin.

****

 Ja sorry about font and background colour madness. I'm having trouble figuring it out. Here for your consolation is a sermon I preached on Sunday, the best sermon (from me) on Ecclesiastes 1 you will ever hear, unless you heard the one I preached before that on the same passage or maybe someone else's sermon. There's a Bible reading from about the 35 minute mark followed by talk.