Dear Theophilus:: May 2003

Sacrifice: Why do it?

Have you ever felt like your sacrifices weren't worth it? Have you ever wondered sometimes, what's the point? Well, I've struggled with these thoughts and feelings, and I wanted to share a time in my life when my faith in God's worthiness and sovereignty was put to the test.

Back in November of 2001, I received a completely unexpected call from the American Red Cross, informing me that I was identified as a potential match for a leukemia patient who was in need of a bone marrow transplant. Can you imagine how I was feeling? Shock…, surprise…, fear…, even curiosity. I had forgotten that I had participated in a bone marrow drive 10 years ago in high school for a classmate's brother who was also battling leukemia. Evidently, my sample from that drive was found to be a potential match. I was asked to come in for further blood testing to confirm the match, to which I agreed. A month later, I received another call from the Red Cross with the most surprising news that I was a definite match! Again, I was feeling a whirlwind of emotions of mostly shock, some fear, and a bit of awe. I would never have imagined that I would receive such news. Due to strict confidentiality regulations, the Red Cross was not able to tell me more than that the patient was a 23 year old woman with acute leukemia. She was most likely Asian, since race/ethnicity plays a large role in a bone marrow match. I only knew of one other person who donated bone marrow a couple of years before, and I knew it could be a painful process. I was asked to take some time to consider whether or not I would like to proceed. After talking it through with my husband, Tom, and spending some time in prayer, I felt confirmation that this was the right thing to do. I felt like God was giving me an amazing and unique ministry opportunity and privilege to give something of myself with the hope and faith that the Lord would use it to bring the patient closer to Himself. I wasn't exactly sure what was involved, but I believed that the Lord would carry me through it. Little did I know what I was in for.

As I went through each step of the process (with the constant support of my loved ones - many of whom actually accompanied each step with me), I continued to sense God's confirmation that this was within His will. The day of the bone marrow harvest (the procedure where bone marrow is extracted from me to be transplanted into the recipient) was scheduled for February 18, 2002 - President's Day. As that day approached rapidly, I was feeling increasingly excited but also very nervous. From my conversations with the Red Cross, the hospital, and my friend who was a previous donor, I knew that the bone marrow harvest was not a procedure to be taken lightly, especially the recovery period. The idea that a very large syringe would be punctured into my pelvic bone multiple times was not an easy image to grasp. Yet I was also keenly aware that whatever pain I would experience was only a fraction of what my recipient would endure. I was also aware that the success rate of this transplant was not very high. In fact, I was told that even though I was a very good match with my recipient, the odds of her surviving were still only 50/50. But I still felt confident that the Lord would use this transplant to bring hope and healing to this young woman and her family.

President's Day, 2002 was here. I had prepared a small card for my recipient to go along with my bone marrow donation, letting her know that we were praying for her, trying to impart the hope we have in the Gospel. I was feeling a very nervous excitement and to be completely honest, I was scared. But thankfully, I was surrounded by loved ones, as the hospital prepared me for the harvest. They prayed for me and I felt I was sent in with so much love. It was such an eerie experience being wheeled into the surgery room, watching the bright hospital lights overhead, with the hospital staff talking over me. Oddly enough, I kind of felt like I was in the television episode of ER that followed Dr. Green's experience as a patient. I don't recall much once I was put under general anesthesia, but I do remember how I felt when I woke up in recovery. I was so disoriented, confused, scared, and in a lot of pain. I'm not going to lie to you. The entire post-op period was miserable for me (and unfortunately for Tom too, as he devoted himself to nursing me back to health). The next several days and nights were filled with so much pain, nausea, and sickness - the details of which I will spare you. Even though I was in more pain than I had ever been in my life, I still felt thankful and privileged that I could be a part of this whole process. How amazing is the way God has created us to be interdependent, not only spiritually, but physically and anatomically as well - that we can give a part of ourselves so that another might live. Not that my decision to donate was a sacrifice that compares to anything Christ did for us. But it did make me think about how the sacrifice of one has the potential to make the difference between life and death for another. In a lot of ways, sacrifice took on a whole new meaning for me. Christ's ultimate sacrifice of Himself so that we might live (Romans 5:8) became a much more personal truth for me as well.

Several weeks pass, and I'm feeling almost completely recovered to the point where I can move around freely with minimal pain. Four months later, I called the Red Cross to resolve some billing issues and to ask about my recipient's status. The news was not good. They told me that she had been battling infection since the transplant, and had contracted pneumonia. Her immune system was too weak to fight against it, and she died. I was speechless. I fought back against tears as I managed to ask when this happened, and they explained that they had just received the news that she died on May 10th. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't help but ask if something was wrong with my bone marrow, and they assured me that that was not the case. I don't recall too much more of what they said to me because I broke into tears. There I was, standing by the restaurant counter where I was waiting for my lunch, just weeping. I couldn't believe it. I was so confident that the Lord's hand was in this whole situation and that He would heal her, but He didn't. The feelings of loss and grief were so intense. I found myself mourning the death of someone I didn't even really know beyond her age and gender. But I felt like a part of me died along with her; I had felt connected to her, even though I knew little to nothing about her. Hearing that she was gone completely broke me inside.

As I processed through my grief, I soon began to experience a sense of hopelessness. I wondered what the point of all this had been when she didn't even make it in the end? She only lived three months longer after the transplant. I kept asking others and myself if it had all been for nothing? She probably had such high hopes that this transplant would cure her, and those hopes were so short-lived. But thanks to the steadfast support and encouragement of my family and friends, I was continually reminded that maybe that was the point. Prior to the transplant, she had no hope for a possible cure. No matter how likely or unlikely the success rate of that cure was, at least she had some hope for healing with this transplant. Even though she only lived three months longer, that was still three months more that she had to spend with her family and friends - to be someone's daughter, sister, and friend, and maybe even to make a decision that would affect her eternity. The point was that she had three months more that she wouldn't have had otherwise, and to this day, I believe that was what God wanted me to be a part of. Not so much to participate in her complete healing as I had expected, but to experience the process of obeying God through sacrifice. When God calls us to join Him in His work at whatever cost, sometimes the end result is not what we expect it to be. If our goal is the end result itself, then it would be easy to feel discouraged and disappointed when the situation works out differently. But if our goal is to give glory to God, no matter what the result is, if we obey Him in faith, then we always end in hope. Our God is one who has the power to turn any situation around for His glory. I had to believe that that is what He has done with my bone marrow donation experience. Some days, it's easy for me to believe that; other days, not so much. It's not like God clearly revealed His will or purpose behind all of this to me, and I know that I may never know why things happened the way they did. I'm not going to lie to you - I was definitely disappointed when I found out that my recipient had died. But I had to look beyond the immediate circumstances of her death, focus on God, and trust that He knows what He is doing and that His ways are best. In the end, it was and continues to be, faith alone that enables me to believe that my sacrifice was worth it. Not because of the desired outcome, but because God used my sacrifice for His glory, and ultimately, that's what counts. To obey is better than sacrifice (1 Samuel 15:22).