Dear friends,
I wanted to take a moment to share a personal update with you. As I mentioned a week or so ago I ended up in hospital, but it turns out that this started a chapter of my life that has unfolded over the past few weeks in a way I never expected. I thought it would probably be helpful to let you know what actually happened and how ive been processing it.
So what happened?
Recently, I was diagnosed with an arteriovenous malformation, or AVM, in my brain. An AVM is a tangle of abnormal blood vessels that bypass the normal capillary network and connect arteries directly to veins. It’s a rare condition, and in my case, I’ve probably had it since birth without ever knowing. For most of my life, it sat quietly, hidden. Years ago, a diagnosis like this would have come too late—and the outcome likely fatal or debilitating. There was very little doctors could have done back then. But in God’s mercy, I live in a time when these things can be treated.
What finally brought it to light was that I ended up in hospital because I had a series of seizures caused by a brain bleed. So the AVM itself ruptured and the resulting brain bleed caused me to start seizing and this ended me up in Hospital. After some scans and consultations with neurosurgeons, the diagnosis became clear. The AVM had bled, and urgent surgery was needed. They needed to cut out the AVM, along with the brain tissue around it, but the surgeons assured me that “that part of my brain isn’t that useful anyway”, which is always a fun piece of information to find out.
Now by God’s grace, I was able to undergo surgery, significant and complex as it was in the public system at St Vincent's Hospital and they were exemplary. They cut open my skull, eliminated the AVM along with my not very useful brain, and stitched me back together.
This is what my head currently looks like:
So while the surgery will leave a viking-esque scar, it was successful. The AVM has been fully removed. I’m now recovering, and although I still have a way to go with several weeks of rest and rehabilitation ahead, I’ve been given the incredible news that the condition is essentially cured. I am very fortunate to not have any neurological deficits, either in motor skills, speech, or memory that we can detect. Things went textbook perfect, but I had no control over it. I am simply left in awe and thankfulness to the God who has carried me through this emergency.
In the midst of all this, I’ve found myself reflecting often on a simple truth: I am not the author of my own story. I never have been. I am the pastor of a church and as much as I make plans, and I preach sermons the reality is, this AVM could have ruptured at any time over the last 40 years, but the Lord held me and it, until exactly such a time such as this where it could be cured. It is the Lord who holds every heartbeat, every breath, every moment. And I have felt so kept by Him in all of this.
I cannot express enough how thankful I am. My wife, Sarah, has been a rock through all of this. She’s held our home together with grace and steadiness while I’ve been flat on my back. Even our kids have responded with gentleness, courage, and care—offering hugs, prayers, and love that have blessed me deeply. I am very glad to be home with them.
To our church family—thank you. Truly. The council has been overwhelmingly supportive. My dad has generously taken on the lion’s share of the preaching for the next 6–9 weeks, and I am so grateful for his willingness to carry that load. I’ve received more offers of meals, help, visits, and prayer than I can count. Each one has reminded me that I’m not walking this road alone. It is good to be part of the body of Christ, and I’ve never felt that more tangibly than now.
Obviously it will be a number of weeks before I can step back into ministry, but I step back with a heart full of thanksgiving and peace. I’ll be back, Lord willing, soon enough.
I want to leave you with a verse that I've been reflecting on:
“My times are in your hands…”
— Psalm 31:15a
It’s such a small sentence, but how true is it. David wrote these words while under threat, not knowing what tomorrow would bring. And yet, with great faith, he hands it all over to God: his times—his suffering, his future, his very life.
I am aware that had things gone only slightly differently I would probably be dead. And yet my times are in His hands. Isn't that incredible? I do not write my own story, God does. And He writes with wisdom, grace, and love. Even this—this unexpected health crisis—has not fallen outside His care. I have been held the whole way through and he has miraculously provided for care and a cure that will provide for my family for years to come.
My times are in his hands… It is a pretty special place to be.
With great grattitude and thankfulness to have been kept in God's hands,
Chris P