Unshaken

“You would never possess a precious, supporting faith were it not for your fiery trials. You are a tree that would never have rooted so well if the wind had not rocked and made you take firm hold on the precious truths of the covenant of grace.” -Spurgeon

Anthony’s cancer is back.

What started in the colon has now metastasized to his liver. This means he is fighting stage 4 cancer. The ominous news no one ever wants to hear. The weight of it all is heavy. 

So he starts chemo again. The day before he turns 53. Happy birthday to you. A gift of poison to make you feel utterly miserable while also hopefully killing everything that is trying to kill you. 

It’s been a lot to process. Many, many people have told me through his cancer journey that they are praying for a miracle. And I welcome all the miracles. 

But I’ve also been thinking a lot about Jesus’ miracles. His purpose in them. I mean sure, they brought a lot of comfort and relief to the people he touched. Healing, wholeness. Hope and promise.

But his ultimate purpose in his miracles was to glorify God. He wanted the blind to see and the lame to walk and his heart delights in the things we delight in like wedding feasts. And a massive fishing haul. And an abundant feast for thousands of people who didn’t pack a lunch. But those were the extra benefits. The icing on the cake. The real beauty of it all is wrapped up in the power and glory of God.

The morning of Anthony’s doctor appointment I read about Mary and Martha anxiously awaiting the arrival of Jesus to come heal their brother. 

He of course did not arrive in time. If only he did. Everything would have been so much better. They had the faith. It was yet another healing they believed he could do. Another body made whole. A family spared from that horrifying plunge into the pit of grief and despair. If only…  

If only he had come there would have been fewer tears. Far less anguish. Less shock and devastating loss.

“Lazarus has died, and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so you may believe.” John 11:15

Glad I wasn’t there. For your sake. So you may believe. 

Sometimes the bigger miracle happens when we don’t get the answered prayer. God can be more glorified when the circumstances truly seem impossible. Not because he will necessarily fix them on this earth, but because eternal redemption is seen so much more clearly. And isn’t that really the whole point anyway… eternity?

We want the Lord to fix the things and take away the distress and sometimes his great pleasure in us is seen by him doing just that. But often, it’s his deep love for us that actually allows the discomfort and doesn’t fix the things because he is far more glorified in the eternal than the temporal.

The purpose of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead was not because he loved him and didn’t want him to die. Or to keep his sisters from the oppression of grief. Because eventually, Lazarus did die again. This was not a permanent fix for an inevitable earthly problem.

The purpose was the glory of God. For him to show he could do immeasurably more than anyone expected. Everyone said “he could have healed him” but when that option was gone, there were no expectations for a grander miracle. 

And then Jesus demonstrates his power is beyond our expectation. It’s greater than our prayers. He’s not fixing one person’s death, he’s showing his power over all of it. Yeah, I could have prevented Lazarus from dying by healing his ailment. But even better, how about I show you that I can defeat death itself. I’m stronger than even that.

When the miracle doesn’t come, it doesn’t mean we didn’t pray hard enough or our faith wasn’t strong enough.

I don’t believe for a second that the reason Mason died was because of lack of faith. And I am also confident that the reason Anthony hasn’t been healed from cancer is in no way correlated to the faith of those interceding for him. I know some fierce prayer warriors. Fierce. Many of them. Amazing fighters to have in my corner. And I’m thankful for every prayer prayed on behalf of my family. I know with certainty that God hears every one of them. And I know with confidence that he answers them in ways we may never see in this life but fit into his perfect plan for eternity. 

This advanced cancer diagnosis, although not welcome, has not shaken my faith. 

My faith did not waver when my little boy left this earth far too soon. Instead, by the grace of God my perspective was honed and clarified. The filthy windows I’d been peering through to understand this world were cleaned. This earthly glass had obstructed much of what is true and deep. And suddenly, my view became clear and crisp. The edges of everything became so precise with such deeper meaning. The colors more vivid. The purpose so much more uncomplicated. 

I’ve learned much on this journey of living in a broken world while having a child in Heaven. Experiencing death bed desperation for my little boy while my prayers begging for his heart to start beating again went unanswered brought much clarity. 

I believe God is often more glorified when he sustains us in a storm than we he rescues us from it.

The depth of the presence of God through my pain and loss is not something I can even put into words. The overwhelming hope that flooded my soul the moment the doctor called time of death is a supernatural gift from a loving God who ultimately was glorified in far deeper ways in our lives than he maybe had been had Mason walked out of that hospital. 

It’s not easy to say this. I still want my little boy back. I would never choose this. The sorrow of grief is suffocating. And my heart still aches for Mason. And yet, the power of a sovereign God and his constant presence through our loss brought redemption in ways I’ll never be able to measure on this earth.

And I’m confident he’ll continue to do this. The world is a broken place. He’s doing more than mending it. He’s redeeming it.

So while we pray for miracles, we also rest in the hope that God will be glorified through this cancer journey. 

Our hope is always and forever in the Healer, not the healing.