Will salvage radiation and hormone therapy, subsequent to
surgery, cure my husband’s prostate cancer? I don’t know. In this
uncertainty, I’m working on resting in the certain promises of Jesus,
the incarnate God who weeps with us.
And it is work. It’s work to remember to pray all day. It’s work to
affirm God’s unseen hand. It’s work to lie down and rest when the “what
ifs” image through my mind. It’s work to remember God will win the war,
even if Satan wins a battle now and then. It’s work to keep focused on
God’s purposes rather than my preferences. It’s work to feel my sadness
and anxiety rather than eat my feelings. (Not doing so well with that.)
On one level, my core beliefs make the work easy. God is good. Better
to die from cancer than Alzheimer’s. God’s purposes are worth what they
cost. On a day-to-day, “I want what I want” level, the work is harder.
I’m surprised, actually, that God has allowed it to go this far–cancer,
surgery, radiation. At this level, reality sucks. And yet, at my
deepest heart level, where I am aligned with the purposes of God,
reality glows. At my core, I rest in that glow.
Because, after all, Jesus. After all this suffering, all our sadness and
grief and loss, Jesus. We are on our way to his embrace, those of us
who love his appearing. Jesus, after all, is worth keeping faith with,
even though it’s hard work. Because he has counted us worth what we cost
Jesus, thank you for who you are. Help us do the work of resting in you,
remembering that after all, you wait.