A Healthy Theology?

by Paul Bridges.

For over 20 years my repeated experience of cancer and its treatment has been a significant context in my life. I like to believe that my life is not defined by cancer but I have to accept that it is one of the things that defines me.

When I was diagnosed with cancer for the second and then the third time I struggled to make sense of it. I found that creative writing helped me to process my thoughts and feelings. My writing took the form of letters, sometimes to people and sometimes to ideas. What follows is an abridged version of my letter to God. I offer it as an example of how the context of our life can influence our theological thinking, both its is themes and direction.

As you read this window into a part of my life, I invite you to ask yourself a few questions?

• Does this letter give you a different perspective about serious illness and God?
• What have been the significant contexts in your life and how have these affected your theological thinking?
• To what extent do you agree with Stephan Bevans who said “There is no such thing as ‘theology;’ there is only contextual theology”?[1]

Dear God,

As I am sure you are aware I have been writing letters to people and things connected to my cancer. I am not fooling myself that they are only about cancer. They are a way of working out things, of recognising the good that is happening in the midst of struggle. And they are a way of coping when people say crass things, and I have to smile sweetly. People say lots of strange things about cancer – “I hear that a good one to get” for example.

You often get mentioned too – people blame you for cancer or to be more accurate they use cancer as their reason for not believing in you. Cancer is such a cruel and horrible disease that a benevolent God could not possibly allow cancer to happen. I have never understood you and the world in this way, but I understand why people do. You are not a vending machine to be used as and when we want you. In fact, if that was the case and you just did what we asked then that would make us God.

For many, life has so many cruel and horrible things in it, surely if a loving God exists they would do something about it. I have not blamed you for my cancer but I do wonder sometimes why there has to be cancer at all.

Occasionally people put the blame elsewhere, they suggest that there is a reason we have cancer. Obviously, they don’t say it in these words but they say things like “everything happens for a reason”. Or “God will work through this cancer”. Are they really saying I am being punished or that somehow giving me cancer is part of your masterplan?

Do you scream and shout, with me, when people say that? What sort of being could punish people or try to achieve something through cancer? No, I reject this thinking. I do not and will not believe that you give people cancer.

Some say that you will teach me something through my experience, but I reject this too.  Yes, I have learnt much, about compassion and humanity, but the idea that you gave me cancer so I can learn these things I must reject. Was I not a good enough student the first and second times I got cancer is that why I got cancer a third time!

We want answers, don’t we? We want to know why and how. But you are the great I am, that’s what you said wasn’t it when Moses asked your name. I am the I am. Well, it seems to me that you are the great I am and life is the just is. That is no rhyme or reason, no why or how with cancer, it just is.

Like so many things that horrify us, cancer also shows us the depth of humanity and compassion that we are capable of. I see you clearly here.

I think of the woman that spent the afternoon gardening with my wife during my first operation.

I remember the doctor who let me play my favourite music as he put me to sleep before an operation.

The new neighbours who left a meal on our doorstep.

The friends that drove hours to see me but only stay a few minutes because I was too tired.

I remember the nurse who told me to be kind to myself.

The man that help me back to physical and psychological health with walks and cherry pie, oh that cherry pie.

The care assistants who dried and dressed me with clothes and compassion when a simple bath had taken all of my energy.

The volunteers who gave up their time to listen to me or give me some complementary therapy.

I see you in all these.

But there are some things I still struggle with.

I don’t believe in miracles, well not with bangs and flashes and science defying changes. I believe in the miracles of life and of love, the miracles of forgiveness and compassion. So, I have always struggled with prayers for physical healing. If you are a loving God why would you need someone else to pray for my healing before you intervene? Nothing would stop me rushing to my children, surely the same is true of you too.

I think you heal us through the skill and compassion of doctors and nurses, through the love and care of family and friends. But yet there is something. As I lay in my hospital bed I would recall all the people who told me they were praying for me. I would get a message of support on texts and emails, and somehow, they helped. People of faith sometimes use strange phrases, they say holding you in prayer, and actually that’s just what it felt like.

Feeling held, gave me the courage and confidence to keep going, but also to give up. To give up worrying, to give up the weight of responsibility, sometimes even to give up caring. I could do this knowing you held me and these things for me. Real safety means being able to be totally vulnerable without any of our usual barriers trusting totally in the protection of another. To those we love and we know love us we don’t have to be strong.

There is a story I have always liked, I am sure you know it already!

A little girl and her father were crossing a bridge over a raging river. The father was kind of scared so he asked his little daughter,

‘Sweetheart, please hold my hand so that you don’t fall into the river.’

The little girl said, ‘No, Daddy. You hold my hand.’

‘What’s the difference?’ Asked the puzzled father.

‘There’s a big difference,’ replied the little girl.

‘If I hold your hand and something happens to me, chances are that I may let your hand go. But if you hold my hand, I know for sure that no matter what happens, you will never let my hand go.’

I think this may be what prayer is, you holding our hand.

So, I am grateful for every prayer spoken. Thank you and Amen

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[1] In my last piece for Theology Everywhere – “The only way is up” – I considered whether the development of our theology may not be linear but contextual – affected by what is going on in our lives.