Not Today, Satan: When Fear Strikes

It’s almost predictable. You take a bold step of faith; you live out loud for Him… and the enemy comes knocking. Not so much when you’re weak and crawling (though he’s always lingering), but when you’re strong, full of joy and standing tall, praising God, and sharing His goodness with others.

Just a couple days ago, I shared a testimony of what God has been doing in our lives and His fingerprints on our story; His provision, His faithfulness, the people He has surrounded us with. And almost immediately, the weight of struggle hit like a sledgehammer: Anger, frustration, disappointment, betrayal. The very opposite of what I had just been proclaiming!

When I sat down and worked it out with a trusted friend, really dug to the root of my anger, I realized what it really was: fear. A threat whispering that what had been so graciously provided could be ripped away.

Let me be clear, my last post A New Chapter: The Fingerprints on Our Story was never about a house or a farm. These things are wonderful blessings and we’re so grateful. We look forward to moving in just a couple weeks and starting that new chapter. But the heart of our joy is in what God has provided through people. The neighbours who have welcomed us, the friends who walk with us, the employers who have provided not just a job, but a lifestyle, and the church family that has surrounded us. That’s the real gift. So that’s what the enemy has tried to threaten.

Here’s the truth: “Fear is a liar.” Always has been, always will be. It whispers worst-case scenarios, steals our peace, tells us that we’re not safe and could lose it all. Fear is one of the enemy’s sharpest weapons and one of the weapons that is wielded against me most frequently, in a surprising number of forms. Fear is designed to make us question God’s promises and to pry us away from trust in God and from each other.  

As it turns out, this year's Vacation Bible School theme wasn’t just for kids. There was something there for me too: When we wonder, when we feel alone or powerless, when we need hope, when we need help, we can “Trust Jesus.” 

https://www.lifeway.com/en/shop/vacation-bible-school

Right now, there is a very real, very worldly threat pressing in on us. I don’t know the way through it yet or what to do; I don’t have all the answers. But I know this:

“The Lord is on my side; I will not fear. What can man do to me?”
Psalm 118:6

So, we'll fight.

We stand shoulder to shoulder with the body of Christ, anchored in His promises, wearing the full armour of Christ. I’ll keep living out the testimony that He has written into our lives, even when fear tries to knock the wind out of me.

And don’t let fear have the final word in your story either. Whatever you’re facing, whether its financial strain, health battles, broken relationships, an unknown future, whatever it is, call fear what it is: a liar. Then call on the One who never fails.

“Be strong and courageous.
Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, 
for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” 
Joshua 1:9

Fear will roar, but it will not, cannot win. God has the final word; the victory is His.

“The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.” Romans 16:20

 Amen.

A candid day in the life of a cancer survivor, on a bad day...

Perhaps I should provide a trigger warning. If you're a cancer survivor, you're probably accustomed to these feelings, or perhaps were, once upon a time. Trigger warning all the same. 

I forced myself awake this morning. I was having a dream, one that on the surface seemed quite nice. A couple lovely ladies from my church were over playing with my son, helping him get his coat on. But there was an air of sadness about. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror of my dream, sitting in a wheelchair, scarf wrapped on my head, oxygen tubes in my nose, skin pale and grey. Dear Husband by my side. 

I force myself awake because I know I cannot go there. I cannot bear the thought of others getting my son ready for church because I am not capable of doing it myself, because the cancer is back, and I am too ill. However, I know it’s already too late. The seed has been planted and is bound to grow before I can extinguish it.

I cry, quietly at first, but then needing the arms of my husband, for him to tell me it will be ok, even while I argue with him that we do not know that. He tells me that if it ever were to happen, we would fight it, hard, together. And we would, but I do not want to. The last thing I want is for my son to have a sick mom, or no mom at all. I know the statistics are not in my favour if there were a recurrence. 

Dear Husband leaves for work because he must. He’ll check in numerous times though.

Now I really cry; I sob, and I worry myself till I’m physically sick. I think of all the things that could be wrong. Casual meanderings, the push and pull, the fight between rational and not, fear and Peace….

“That new lump I found in my breast last week. The doctor checked it right away and believes it to not be characteristic of cancer. He could be wrong. We’ll wait for the referral of the ultrasound and mammogram to be sure. Hopefully they call soon. Hopefully it's nothing. If I worry just the right amount everything will be fine. But if I acknowledge that everything could be fine, then it probably won’t be. Well, that’s just silly. Oh God, please don’t let it be cancer. Maybe it’s not in my breast at all, but somewhere else. Maybe both breast and somewhere else. Maybe multiple places. That sore rib I always have, it could be bone metastasis. But I had that checked out two or three years ago, that wasn’t it. If it was cancer, it would have spread by now. Well, perhaps it has. Sore back, that’s indicative of some kinds of cancer. And you do have a chronic cough. Yes, but I also am 42 and constantly am lifting a toddler, and I’ve had that cough for years, long before my last MRI, long before cancer. Sore shoulder, that’s new. But Dr. Google says it’s probably because I sleep on that side and am compressing a nerve. Google also says that rotator cuff metastasis is extremely rare. Rare, but not impossible. I should get it checked. I’m tired. Fatigue is a sign of cancer. But I stay up too late, get up too early, and spend precious hours of rest worrying instead of sleeping. It’s a vicious cycle. Plus, I do have a busy toddler. Lord, please don’t let it be cancer. I can’t bear the thought of my son not having his mom. I’ll be fine. My mom is fine and she had the same cancer as me and it’s been 20-something years. Yeah, but I also have dad’s genes and he definitely was not fine. Lord, let me be fine. What is that lump?” 

And repeat, like a broken record that can’t be shut off.

But now the baby is awake, so I wash my face, brush my teeth and push forward. Truth be told, I’m glad he’s up. I need to hug him as if my life depended on it. Perhaps it kind of does.

Not every day is like this. Some days can even go by without hardly a thought of cancer at all. Bad days are few and far between now, but they still happen, even nearly 5 years later.

5 years. That’s supposed to be the magic number when my odds of recurrence drop to almost nothing. Almost. We’re so close. Even though I know the number is arbitrary and statistics aren’t a perfect science. I'm hoping at 5 years the bad days stop all-together.

"Lord, please, don’t let the cancer come back" is my mantra. Others pray for peace for me. Not me. I pray and boldly ask for the cancer to stay away. Right or wrong. Peace is great, and I need that too, but more than that I desire to stay healthy. I pray for health, and the strength to be able to sing it is well with my soul, to be able to accept whatever comes my way. I haven’t reached that level of grace.  

The day is just half done. The morning activities helped to push these thoughts to the background, but they linger. In an effort to bury them, I write them down while the baby naps. I’ve not really tried this before, but they say writing is supposed to be cathartic. Maybe there could also be a benefit to being raw and real, to letting others know what is really on my heart, instead of simply saying “I’m fine,” or sharing just a snippet of what I’m thinking. Maybe there's benefit to putting it out there for other survivors, just to say, "you're not alone." 

So there it is…..

And it actually kind of did help.

If you are a cancer survivor, do you have terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days? How do you cope?