Matt Chandler - Final Battle

If you have your Bibles, you’re going to need to open them. This is kind of the big one, if you will. After this week, we will no longer talk about sin, death, wrath, fear, or shame; it will all just be gone. So this is kind of a significant week. Next week, our imaginations will be blown away by what all things will be when they are made new. However, this week, we get to watch the final battle—or non-battle—happen, which is this massive gathering of might where Jesus just shows up and says, «Nah,» and they all destroy one another. It’s just like the least epic battle to end all battles that anyone could have ever imagined. I think most of you know this: about 11 years ago, in fact almost 12 years ago now, I was diagnosed with malignant brain cancer and given about two to three years to live. I had to undergo a craniotomy, so I have no right frontal lobe, which helps some of you place me. Then I had to go through 18 months of high-dose chemotherapy, along with six weeks of radiation and some low-dose chemotherapy. When I finished those 18 months of chemotherapy, I just did what I knew how to do: «Okay, let’s get back to work.» Alright, it looked like the Lord spared me—who knows how many days I have? —so let me get back to what the Lord had given me to do. I just started grinding. Here’s what’s crazy: I felt fine. I mean, I literally felt fine; I felt great. I was preaching again, I was leading in the rooms I meant to lead in again, and I was starting to write books again. I was just trying to step into what God had for me. About three years after my last dose of chemotherapy, I woke up one day and realized I had more energy than I knew what to do with. Right? God just pray for my sweet wife! It was like I shifted into a gear that I didn’t even know I hadn’t been using for the last three years, and all of a sudden I was like, «Oh yeah, it used to be like this!» I was just getting things done. Then, probably three or four years after that, I started noticing some small cognitive weird things happening—I would forget stuff that shouldn’t be forgotten. Not the normal stuff, like «Where are my keys?» but more like «Did I put the car in park?» kind of things. So I was like, «Oh no!» If that happens to you, it’s like, «I need some sleep,» but if it happens to me, I’m thinking, «I need an MRI.» That was happening. I did have my MRI; you’re fine, there’s nothing there. So I said, «Hey, I’d like to wean off my meds.» I don’t know how you’re wired, but I would like to not take medicine if I could avoid it. Now, please, let’s just clarify: I kindly ask that you not send me your oils; that’s not what I’m saying right now. I love you, but I don’t need your oils. I’m not trying to dismiss you—God bless you! —if you’re looking to make that money, sis; I’m just saying I don’t want to be on medication long-term if I don’t have to be. So I was on an anti-seizure medication—it’s a newer one, so in some sense it works, but I feel a bit like a guinea pig. What’s the 20-year game with this medication? Well, I don’t know; let’s just watch Matt. I didn’t like that. I asked my oncologist if I could wean off this medication. She laid it out for me: we can try, and here are some things I want you to be aware of. She listed some dangers associated with it, saying, «You don’t want to be driving your car with your kids inside and not remember what a seizure feels like; are you sure you want to roll the dice on this?» So we started to slowly but surely wean me off of Keppra. Eventually, I was taking what she called a «granny dose, ” which basically meant it didn’t actually work anymore. I was taking a little, but it wasn’t effective for my body weight. So we just decided to completely stop taking it. Listen, I went to the doctor and explained that I had some cognitive issues. I got off those meds, and then suddenly about a month later, bam! It was like I had a sixth or seventh gear. I suddenly had clarity of thought—everything was back. The point I’m trying to make is that I was in a fog and a funk, unaware of my physical and mental handicap. I didn’t realize I felt fine because that was all I knew—until I was reminded and set free. If we’re talking today, we’re going to discuss the final defeat.