The blessed shadow of death

A few days ago, my dad found out he has a rare form of aggressive cancer.

How rare? Fewer than 200 people get this cancer each year in the United States. The current U.S. population is 318.9 million. Of those Americans, 1,685,210 will get cancer in 2016. If Dad is one of only 200 people who contract the kind of cancer he has, he represents 0.01 percent of all cancer patients.

If all Americans were of equal age, gender, health, etc., your odds of getting cancer this year would be 0.05 percent. Your odds of getting the kind of cancer my dad has is 0.00006 percent. You have a better chance of getting struck by lighting or winning the lottery.

In other words, getting this form of cancer is close to impossible. When impossible things happen, we call that a miracle.

So, I ask: If it is a miracle that Dad got this cancer, why shouldn’t we believe that the cure will be just as miraculous? Indeed, I have to believe the odds of curing the cancer have to be better than the odds of contracting it in the first place. This is our hope and prayer.

What’s strange is the calm that has come over me since we got the news. I’m an anxious person by nature, so the peace washing over me comes as a surprise. What is it?

I think it could be three things.

First, I believe that God takes up residence inside us. We Christians call this the “indwelling of the Holy Spirit.” In his letter to the Christians in ancient Philippi, the Apostle Paul wrote: “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Jesus Christ” (Philippians 4.6-7). I believe this “peace of God” is having its effect on me now.

Second, I feel some sense of relief. Upon reflection, I notice that most of my anxiety in life comes from worrying about what could happen to me and the people I love: “What if _________?” or “Could _____ happen?” There is something about “it” actually happening that takes a load off my mind: “Yes, this can happen and is happening.” Instead of churning up fear about how to stave off bad things, my mind is now dealing with how we live through the bad things that are happening to us. The thing about worry is that it is action we take despite ourselves. When the bad things actually comes down on us, we take action for each other and for our own good. Worry bogs us down and makes us heavy. Strangely, bad things that happen to us can lighten our load and make us nimble.

Third, times like these are why we practice our Christian faith. It’s not for the good times when everything comes easy. We believe in the Gospel because we know that times like these are inevitable. The Gospel sets us free to live into hardship rather than try with all our might to avoid it or numb it. We believe the Resurrection is not just a future event, but a present reality (2 Corinthians 4.16-18). The Gospel is a nice concept, but it only gets real and shows its true power in circumstances like these. I believe the Christ is going to show himself over the next few months. This will not end in death, but in life more abundance than anything that came before it.

So if you’re inclined, please be part of the Gospel coming to life through deadly circumstances. Petition God on behalf of my dad and our family. And please let me know if I can do the same for you. There is plenty of God to go around and we need not fear that we’re asking for too much.

Grace and peace.