A couple weeks ago, I finished my radiation treatment, and the second cycle of chemotherapy that went along with it. I managed well enough, though the side effects were difficult some days and the overall effect was quite draining. Two weeks on, I’m feeling much better, with something like a normal appetite and energy level.

When I imagined finishing treatment, I had in mind a dramatic flourish, as in an Olympic race. I enjoyed a bit of that feeling, especially when my family and I went out for a very nice lunch after my last appointment. A lot had happened since last September, and we had a good chance to celebrate and share some memories.

My memories are filled with countless forms of help from family, friends, and even complete strangers. I will never forget singing Psalm 103 with my family the night before the surgery, or the surprising (and arduous) pleasure of walking to the car after leaving my hospital room. I recall moments when recovery seemed impossible, and other moments when I was overwhelmed by the sheer joy of being surrounded by family, friends, and fellow Christians.

Through it all, I have personally experienced the reality of Psalm 103:13-14,

As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.

A dramatic finish sounds exciting, but the reality is a bit more anti-climactic. A full recovery from surgery will likely take several more months. Also, my doctors are still discussing a few more treatment options, although they will likely not offer enough benefit to be worthwhile. Happily, the risk of my cancer recurring is now fairly low. Still, I will be monitored for the next five years. The scans will happen every three months at first, and perhaps less frequently as time goes by.

In bringing me to this point, God has answered many prayers. What a team of people have been praying for me, on every continent, for almost a year! I thank God for a successful surgery, for the strength to finish treatment, and for providing in all sorts of ways throughout. Somehow those blessings are sweeter, having come in response to the prayers of brothers and sisters in Christ.

Right now, we have two main prayer requests. First, please pray that the cancer will never return. Second, as I and my family leave behind "crisis mode," please pray that the Holy Spirit will guide us toward a “new normal” that is Christ-centered and effective. As Paul put it so simply: “we make it our aim to please him” (2 Corinthians 5:9).

I have so enjoyed keeping in touch with you all through this newsletter, but I do not expect to share any more updates in coming months. I will keep the newsletter active, though, because I would like to invite you all to my thirty-fifth birthday party next June. After reading Lord of the Rings during my treatment, I am inspired by Bilbo’s eleventy-first birthday party. But why wait until eleventy-one? Thirty-five is a big milestone, half-way to the “threescore and ten” generally promised to mortal man (Psalm 90:10). The occasion will also serve as an approximate one-year anniversary of finishing treatment.

Unlike Bilbo, I cannot provide fireworks at my party, but I have tentatively arranged for a favorite musician to come and play a concert here in Sunnyvale. All my family and friends are invited, including you, my faithful subscribers. Some of you are far away, but still you are welcome. The Northern California coast is lovely that time of year. I will send details when they are confirmed, probably in January. Until then, God bless you and keep you.