Even though David’s eyes beheld the size of Goliath (six cubits and a span), his response was, “Let no man's heart fail because of him…The LORD that delivered me out of the paw of the lion, and out of the paw of the bear, he will deliver me out of the hand of this Philistine.” David remembered God’s faithfulness in the past and had complete faith that He would come through again for him. True stories inspire me. True Bible stories change me, and this one I needed. It’s time to put on the whole armor of God.
I have metastatic breast cancer, as it has spread to my bones and brain. Cancer is all fun and games, until it comes back. Round one, you get to ring a bell after your chemo treatments are over; round two, the treatments are never over. Round one, there’s a chance it will never come back; round two, there’s no chance it will leave. It does, however, respond to treatments, which may slow down its progression—but they are far from perfect. One of them is a bone strengthener that could cause osteonecrosis of the jaw, i.e. my teeth could fall out. When I asked my doctor about this, she said that it wouldn’t be a problem for me, as I’d have to be on it for two years before that could become a problem. There was a moment of hush; then I spoke aloud what was silently hanging in the air—that two years is longer than my life expectancy. I have already used up one of those years, but who’s counting. Round one, Jesus helped me with the lion and the bear; round two, I have no doubt He’ll help me with this Giant!
The very day after I first found out that I had cancer, God gave me this verse, “Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. So that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me” (Hebrews 13:5-6). This I needed to hear above everything else. In the Bible, “conversation” is not just what you say but also how you live. It would be so very easy for me to be jealous of others' normal lives—and not to be content with what I have. Bitterness could easily rear its ugly head. I know that I need to look diligently toward Jesus. I dare not take my eyes off of Him. On those days that I do, and fear of the near future sneaks in, it is almost instant how my countenance lifts when His very name captivates my thoughts. The promise in the verse that comes next is awesome—not only will God never leave nor forsake me, I will be able to proclaim without a doubt that He is my helper! Like when he stood beside me in the shower when I was losing my hair, reassuring me that losing all of my flesh was going to be okay. Or when he was by my side on the operating table, right as I drifted off. And ah, when he joined me in my first MRI.
MRI's are funny things. First the operator tells me that if I move at all, it's okay, but we would need to stop the process and do it again another day. Then he asked if I wanted music, and I did—Christian music of course, hoping he would hear it too! While I'm thinking to myself that I'm thankful I'm not claustrophobic, the clicking begins. It takes great concentration to try to hear the music. Just when you focus in on it enough to hear it ever so slightly, a new and much louder click joins the first one. It actually made me chuckle. Then I remembered I couldn't move. Once settled in, I was gobbled up by fear. I was there, after all, because cancer might have invaded my brain. My heart pounded so hard that I felt it might be moving me. This is where it gets good, real good. I knew that I knew that I knew that Jesus slipped right in there beside me. No one takes your breath away quite like Him. His very presence stills all fears and turns them into utter joy. His charity enveloped me. He didn't ask me to walk on the raging water with Him this time. Instead, in that moment, He calmed the storm. Just then the song "Your Grace Still Amazes Me" by Phillips, Craig and Dean came on, and I could hear it! I deserve no such thing as this grace of God, yet he lavishes it on me when I need Him the most. There is no hiding place on this beautiful earth that He will not find me and shower me with blessings untold. Not even an MRI. Oh, He is altogether lovely!
On my sickest days you would find me lying on any surface slightly soft and nearby. I had no real thoughts, only the occasional impulse to vomit. I lay in silence, as noise, even a joyful noise, was bothersome. Yet there was one excitant that kept me breathing, and that was the overwhelming love I felt towards God. I just wanted to praise Him for EVERYTHING! For creating such a beautiful world, for giving me such a loving family and fulfilling life, for working miracles that I will not even see this side of heaven, and on and on. A stilled life, one very foreign to me, has been a great classroom. The closer I got to nothing, the more I saw Him as everything. The more pitiful I got, the more beautiful He became to me. Now I know that not only is it possible to thank God in every thing, it is nearly impossible not to!
In one of my earlier rounds of chemo, as I lay sick, I realized that I had not prayed much that day at all. A whole day was lost. In fact I had no energy to pray to feel better so that I could pray. It then hit me that I had an entire army of people praying for me. I am on so many prayer lists including those of people and churches I don’t even know. I am on a Christian health share program, so I get letters from strangers writing things like, “Praying for His presence and love to consume you.” Oh, it has—your prayers have made it up to God’s ears! One of the greatest lessons my trial has taught me is that of the body of Christ. The peculiar love that my brothers and sisters in Christ have bestowed on me has been the express definition of charity…God’s love; the bond of perfectness.
If the prayers of my friends and family weren’t enough to pull me through, I knew that I had a great High Priest offering up prayers to God my Father for me, face to face. Jesus, in all of His glory, is working on my behalf. He ministers to me, even though He is my King; His compassions did not stop at the cross. It became crystal clear to me what the apostle Paul meant when he said that when we are weak, He is strong. I have always thought that I would feel His strength in my moments of weakness, but it makes perfect sense now that I wouldn't. He is working on my behalf, because I cannot. He is my quiet Saviour, and His grace comes without revelation, until I look back in amazement.
Here’s where it gets hard—so hard I can only stand thinking of it for a few minutes at a time. Like many people with cancer, I have children. I have parents and a husband, siblings and friends. Even now, I can barely see trough my tears to write. I want to stay so badly that I can hardly stand it. Who will text my daugther “Goodnight!”, every single night? Who will help my son navigate life’s obstacles with the compassion of a mother? I shudder to think of missing out on my children starting a family of their own. My parents already lost one child, and my husband, his son. It seems somehow I have failed them, and this feeling hurts so bad. The only thing I can possibly do to help is to point them to the one who makes it possible for me to breath, the one who comforts me in my darkest hours with the very thought of what He did for me. Jesus gave His life that I may live. For a Christian, death is not dying, but living. I will close my eyes when what we know of as ‘dying’ happens, then open them immediately to gaze upon my Saviour’s face. It’s that easy and that beautiful—just because I believed on Him, the one God sent to save us from our sins. Jesus is all I can give them, and He is all they need.
All through time, kings had to prove to be the bravest and strongest of all their mighty men and lead them into battle. It’s your king who fights for you, and my King will never leave His rank. He is the one who is called “KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS,” and the Bible tells us that this very King “shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.” This may not look like I want it to, though. Like Jesus, I must pray, “Abba, Father, all things are possible unto thee; take away this cup from me: nevertheless not what I will, but what thou wilt” (Mark 14:36). After all, God’s greatest concern is not in keeping us from dying, but ensuring that we know how to die right, and that requires a personal relationship with His son Jesus.
What it all comes down to is this: I have great joy when I think of God’s truth, His honesty, His justice, His purity, His loveliness, His good report, and His virtue. We are to think on those things, and the God of peace will be with us! When I do, it instantly leads me to praise Him, and praising Him never fails to pull me out of the dark, lonely place I go to when I wander from His fold. So I will set my mind on things of the Spirit, instead of things of the flesh, where I will find life and peace.
A friend once asked me if I thought God was picking on me. It took but only a few seconds for me to respond with sincerity that, rather, I thought God was spoiling me. Like a sick child, I seem to be getting a lot of attention from my Father. James 4:8 tells us that if you draw nigh to God, he will draw nigh to you. Like every promise God has made, this is indeed true. Instead of having something terminal, I like to think of myself as having something “eternal.” “And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent” (John 17:3). I know Him better now, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Knowing Him better is so much better than a better life!
If the Lord wills it that you see me in over a year, or two, I will be the one smiling from ear to ear, whether I have teeth or not!
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