Spiritual Formation Catalyst
Working to help people respond to the Spirit's call in the midst
of their everyday lives so that they may experience what Jesus describes as,
"life to the full."
Our first steps are often the hardest.
We sense the Spirit’s invitation to move in a new direction. But letting go of what is, for what could be is often a challenge.
My friends at The Welcome Table provided a great meditation on exactly that.
In Learning to Let Go they help us wrestle with the challenge of releasing our past for the new thing God is doing in our lives.
May it bless you as it blessed me.
March is National Colorectal Cancer Awareness Month.
A few months back the people at Hope is Alive reached out to me. They wanted to do a story about my journey. It seemed fitting to have it go live during the month of March.
If you are interested, you can find it here: Hope has arrived: Finding Joy Amidst Cancer
Ash Wednesday was not part of my spiritual practice during my youth. It has grown to be one of my favorite services of the year.
There is an honesty and hopefulness that transcends Ash Wednesday.
While we are not doing an in-person Ash Wednesday service this year I wanted to take a moment and help us reflect on this most important of days in the church calendar.
Our time together began with a reminder of why we gathered together.
Friends in Christ, we begin today a forty-day journey toward Easter.
We enter the Lenten season to prepare ourselves to welcome the risen Christ with loves renewed by the
breath of his Spirit.
We assume a discipline of self-examination, confession, and repentance.
We dedicate ourselves to meditate upon the scriptures and to converse with God in prayer.
We seek to be more faithful disciples of Christ whose lives are shaped by the one whom we confess to be Lord and Savior of the world.
To this end, let us worship God.
We sang songs, listened to the scriptures, and then heard the words, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust, you shall return.”
We hear these words as the ash from last year’s palms, used in our Palm Sunday celebration, take the form of a cross on our forehead.
To some, this celebration may seem morbid or too somber.
Ash Wednesday is the beginning of a celebration for those of us who recognize the depth of our need for spiritual healing and renewal.
Ash Wednesday is a reminder of our mortality. It is a reminder of our frailty.
I am reminded of how easy it is for me to hurt and wound those I love most. Ash Wednesday reminds me of my constant need for renewal, transformation, rebirth.
Ash Wednesday gives me hope. No matter how dark things may seem, EASTER IS COMING!
It happens every year. Easter always follows Ash Wednesday. The celebration of rebirth, renewal, transformation comes after we remember the season of suffering that Jesus endured. I have faith we will celebrate again this year!
As we enter this Lenten season, let me invite you into a season of discernment.
Invite the Spirit of God to show you how you can be a part of growing the Kingdom of God. Ask the Spirit to show you how you can unleash the renewal, transformation, and rebirth that Christ so desperately wants to see in our lives and our world.
If you are looking for another meditation on Ash Wednesday, The Welcome Table has some good thoughts to share.
A few weeks ago Nancy shared one of her latest writings, What is Strength? She spoke of the very real emotions behind walking alongside me these past five years.
She closed her piece by saying she did not know what strength looked like and wished people would stop telling her she was strong.
Her closing line brought a smile to my face.
I know her to be a person of amazing strength. I have witnessed it for the past thirty-plus years.
Whatever comes her way she finds a loving, graceful way to move forward. That is strength. Her strength is not of her own making, it comes from the Spirit that dwells inside her. The Spirit of God, alive, well, and working in and through her life.
Her closing line made me smile. I wanted to protest, to put some form of disclaimer on her writing letting you all know just how strong she is. It did not feel quite right so I sat still.
A few days ago I received this from a good friend of mine. Chip was a member of the youth group at the first church I served following seminary. We are still in touch today. He is a great guy who I enjoy speaking with from time to time. Every now and then he will email me a link to some music video which will send me back in time.
At the end of one of his last emails, he shared some thoughts on strength and Nancy. I smiled as I read them. Smiled even bigger when I shared his email with Nancy.
Chip caught it. Even at 17, he saw a strength in her. I asked permission to share his email with you all.
Here it is. His words…not mine.
To the strongest woman I know.
Lastly, I was just re-reading your blog entry from October, specifically what Nancy wrote about herself. It’s somewhere between gut-wrenching and heartbreaking, and remembering how guarded Nancy could be, it’s amazingly vulnerable. As she clearly states in the last line, while she doesn’t want anyone else telling her how strong she is, I remember December 1998.
Anyone who in the course of a month could run a daycare center, be a pastor’s wife at Memorial, be said church’s Sunday School superintendent, direct the Christmas program (including coaching four of us doing puppeteering), be the mother of a toddler, be your wife (sorry…but you get what I’m saying), total a car, find out she’s pregnant, then help take 40 teens and youth leaders to a youth conference (including having us all loudly herd through her hotel room twice a day for food) during said first trimester, remain calm and friendly and nice, and not have a complete breakdown….even at 17, I couldn’t comprehend how she did it.
You watch someone go through that and kinda hope they’ll never have to go through crazy like that again, but, here she is 22 years later, several years into “new normal”, and I guess I’m even more amazed now. Maybe strength isn’t being strong, but admitting you’re weak and broken and drained and scared and frustrated…and remain solely dependent on God, even when He doesn’t seem like enough. So even though she doesn’t want to hear it, I learned a long time ago how strong she really is. And tell her I’m praying for her.
Thank you, Chip.
Here is your deep thought for the day, again, thank you, Chip.
“Maybe strength isn’t being strong, but admitting you’re weak and broken and drained and scared and frustrated…and remain solely dependent on God, even when He doesn’t seem like enough.”
The past few weeks have felt like I was riding a seesaw. A seesaw dominated by someone who enjoys watching you stuck high in the air.
I have completed six treatments in this round of chemotherapy.
I usually make it somewhere around ten to twelve treatments before changing to “maintenance chemo.” Maintenance chemo is the same schedule with reduced drugs. The plan will be to continue maintenance chemo until my body says, “ENOUGH!”
I have returned to the world of balancing quality vs. quantity of life. It is a strange place to be.
If you know me, you understand I am all about moving forward, achieving, and making sure we do the best we can with what has been given us. That Dan meets any hint of lowering drug amounts or slowing treatments with an adamant, “hell no.” (You will forgive me)
The Dan, whose body has undergone close to five years of chemotherapy, sits and ponders what it would be like to take a break. Quality over quantity can be made to sound appealing.
The treatment is working.
The numbers connected with my bloodwork are all heading in the right direction.
My most recent scans show that the largest tumor on my liver is shrinking. It was 9 x 7 cm, and today it is 7 x 5 cm.
A friend of mine once said, “Your body just loves chemotherapy.” For some reason, that is true. My body does seem to respond to these systemic chemotherapy treatments. For that, I am eternally grateful.
This round of treatment has been the hardest yet. Doctor Saroha is not surprised. With each round of treatment, my body has learned what to expect. It prepares itself for the assault of the chemotherapy, which is saving my life.
I have learned to manage things like anticipatory nausea. Yes, that is a thing. Sunday evening before treatment, I begin to feel ill. My body knows what is coming. It is preparing for the treatment and telling me to get ready. It is crazy how our bodies work.
Even though treatment has been challenging, I am blessed to be able to say, the treatment appears to be working. Over time Dr. Saroha expects to see a diminishing return with future treatments. That is part of what makes it so hard to say “lower the dose” when we talk about quality vs. quantity.
Years ago, I was in the Dominican Republic with a group of college students from Western New England University. We were there as part of a spring break service project. We taught English in a few local schools and found other ways to serve the people of the community. One of our greatest joys was simply playing with the children of the orphanage where we stayed. Each afternoon we would have a few hours of fun and games, just sharing life with the children who called the orphanage home.
One of the kids’ favorite toys was the seesaw. They would play on that thing for hours. Their joy, in the midst of chaos, poverty, and hardship, has remained an encouragement to me.
A few weeks ago, I found myself reflecting on that seesaw.
I feel like I am riding that old rusted seesaw.
Some days I find myself full of energy, enthusiasm, and excitement for what the Spirit of God is doing in and through my life.
Other days I am so tired it is all I can do to grab a few hours of activity between naps.
I want nothing more than to find balance and consistency, yet it eludes me.
One morning I awake full of energy, with a mind that is fully functioning. My day is filled with productivity as I craft messages, make phone calls, return emails, and plan for the future.
The next day, I have to read a single paragraph four times to grasp what the author is trying to communicate. It is not that the author is profound, my mind is clouded, and it takes me longer to understand and retain what is being shared.
If you ride the seesaw, there will be up days and down days.
To be honest, the ups and downs are what make life exciting.
The exhilaration of being at the top, feeling as if you are living at the top of the seesaw. Slowly heading downward, towards a season of difficulty. Crashing down, only to be lifted again.
I am reminded of my friends in the Dominican Republic. No matter where they were, they approached it all as JOY.
Grateful for the opportunity to ride the seesaw, they filled the air with squeals of laughter, shouts of panic, followed by sheer exhilaration. They rode the seesaw for all it was worth.
How can we mirror their energy, their enthusiasm for life when the seesaw gets difficult?
During this seesaw season, I have found encouragement in what some may consider an unlikely place.
During one of my down periods, I stumbled across Coldplay’s performance of their album “Everyday Life.”
As the title track begins, it sounds like the cry of someone stuck at the bottom of the seesaw.
“What in the world are we going to do, look at what everyone is going through…everyone hurts, everyone cries, everyone tells each other all kinds of lies, everyone falls, everyone dreams and doubts, everyone gets their heart ripped out…”
In the midst of the song, something slowly transforms. There is a call to joy, a call to hope.
“Got to keep dancing when the lights go out.”
Even amidst the struggle, there is something deeper going on.
The song ends by repeating the word hallelujah (Praise God). It reminds me of a young child smiling while atop the seesaw.
No matter what happens, I will keep dancing. I will keep praising the one who came to “set captives free.”
May you have the eyes, ears, heart, and mind to sense the Spirit of God alive well and at work in your world.
May you keep dancing, even if the seesaw is on rock bottom.
To listen to Coldplay’s “Everyday Life”
In The Jesus Creed author, Scott McKnight speaks about the importance of table time.
McKnight points out how often Jesus slowed down to simply share a meal with those he cared about.
The conversations around the table helped to shape and guide their lives.
We do not always do good with table time. I do not always do good with table time.
A friend of mine, along with her sisters have started something to help us grow in our ability to slow down and spend quality time at the table.
Tables come in many shapes and sizes. The Welcome Table happens to be an online table. The invitation is
To come as you are, to bring all that is weighing on you, to pull up a chair, to rest, to laugh, to share your story, to find welcome, to experience the grace of seeing yourself and those around you through a lens of love and understanding.
During Advent, The Welcome Table is offering a daily devotional. You can visit the site each day or sign up to receive email notices each day.
Today’s reflection was on forgiveness.
It really spoke to me. You can find it here. Finding Peace in Forgiveness
Treatment #2. Has someone ever asked you a simple question that caused a time of deeper reflection?
Monday was my second treatment for this round of chemotherapy.
I was glad to be back at my familiar office in Kennett Square. It is much quieter than some of the other places I have received treatment.
There are small signs that the treatment is working. Rashes and other such side effects that have historically shown up when the chemotherapy has been effective at pushing back the cancer are starting to reappear. It is way too early to draw any conclusions, but these simple signs give me hope.
Has someone ever asked you a simple question that caused you a time of deeper reflection?
It happened to me last weekend.
A good friend and I were working in my shop. We are taking an old piano and turning it into a case for the electric keyboard at church.
As we were putting the finishing touches on the piano cabinet, he asked, “How did you ever get interested in woodworking?”
It was a fascinating question. I found myself talking about Mr. Miller. [Read more…]
Daniel has been a seeker his entire life, seeking a deeper relationship with Abba Father. He has served as pastor for American Baptist churches in New York, Massachusetts, and Pennsylvania. His passion is to "help people encounter God in the midst of their everyday lives." He writes with a transparency intended to allow others to see the struggles that lead to healing and life. Daniel currently serves as Spiritual Formation Catalyst for A Place in the Conversation.
Daniel's journey was disrupted when the doctor said, "You have stage IV colon cancer." Questions of "Why" and "If only" crowded his mind. Can one encounter God in the midst of a cancer journey? Join this seeker as he shares the pain and joys of this journey not of his choosing. Daniel's wife, Nancy, joins in sharing some of her thoughts, and feelings as she watches her husband fight his battle.