“This is what the Lord says: ‘Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool. Where is the house you will build for me? Where will my resting place be? Has not my hand made all these things, and so they came into being?’ declares the Lord. ‘These are the ones I look on with favor: those who are humble and contrite [wounded] in spirit, and who tremble at my word’” (Isaiah 66:1-2 NIV).

What can cancer build in you? We know the narrative about how cancer destroys your cells, your tissue, your organs. We know the story that cancer can destroy your routine, your relationships, your family, your self-esteem. But what can cancer build in you? Can cancer build anything good in you? Is that even possible?

“Let your roots grow down into Him, and let your lives be built on Him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness” (Colossians 2:7 NLT).

A few years ago, I set a goal of running a half marathon. Although I had been active for most of my life, I never really saw myself as a “runner.” I didn’t think I had the endurance to be able to withstand the thirteen (point one!) miles of torture activity. However, I was looking for something new to try and was willing to give it a shot. So, I began to train.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him” (Psalm 34:8 NIV).

Have you ever been to one of those fancy restaurants with a dessert tray covered with gooey, yummy, irresistible desserts? It is hard to look at that tray and not think, "That sure does look good." But usually I am practical and say, "No thanks."

“Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes” (Ephesians 6:11 NIV).

The cancer experience is often described as a battle. He battles cancer. She fights the disease. We celebrate warriors. I do not love the war imagery, but it works. When cancer attacks you and those you love, the battle is on. ‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

“Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes” (James 4:14 NIV). You may have spent your life trying to get ahead, or at least to keep up. You may have been climbing the ladder of success. Now that cancer has shown up, you are not sure if the ladder is even leaned against the right wall! Worse, you may not have as much time left as you thought. The book of James is referred to as “the gospel of good works.” It is addressed to Christians. Many of them were extremely poor, even though they lived in a culture full of wealthy people. Some of these poor Christians coveted the luxurious lives of the rich and gave them preferential treatment (see James 2). The impoverished Christians boasted about their plans to become rich: “Today—at the latest, tomorrow—we’re off to such and such a city for the year. We’re going to start a business and make a lot of money” (James 4:13 MSG). James rebukes them. “Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that” (James 4:14-15 NIV).

“If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body” (Philippians 1:22-24 NIV). The apostle Paul was not afraid of life or death! Either way, he wanted to magnify Christ in his body. No wonder he had joy! Paul wrote today’s verse while sitting in prison. Paul confessed that he was facing a difficult dilemma. To remain alive was necessary for the believers' benefit in Philippi, but to depart and be with Christ was far better. Paul understood that Christ would have him remain in order to further the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Paul understood he was chosen … chosen to endure the struggles of this life. A few years ago, I had the privilege to know a wonderful member of my church who fought a heroic battle with cancer. For her funeral meditation, I wrote these words: “A few days ago [the member] and I were alone. I mentioned her suffering, and she said something that left me speechless. She said, ‘I was chosen.’”

“Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then is there no healing for the wound of my people?” (Jeremiah 8:22 NIV) Opportunities for physical healing surround those facing cancer: top-rated oncologists, world-renowned cancer centers, and many options for treatment. With so much attention on physical healing, we may miss the most important healing—our spiritual healing. In the Old Testament, Gilead was the name of the mountainous region east of the Jordan River. Gilead was known for its skillful physicians and a healing balm, an ointment made from the gum of a tree particular to that area. Many believed this balm had miraculous powers to heal the body. Tragically, and ironically, God’s people living in and around these mountains of medicine were deeply sick. Not just physically sick, but sin-sick. They refused to follow God’s commands and worshipped other gods. Jeremiah warned the people. Their lives had already been reduced to rubble. A powerful foreign army would soon invade and destroy their land. Many would be killed or exiled. Jeremiah lamented and wept over their sin and dreadful fate. He held up the balm as a reminder of God’s steadfast love, forgiveness, and healing. God alone is the Great Physician and provides the medicine needed.

“Cast your cares on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken” (Psalm 55:22 NIV). My husband’s doctor sent him for an x-ray of his abdomen following a routine exam. The doctor felt something firm and large on my husband’s right side. He thought perhaps his spleen was enlarged and an x-ray would give him a better idea of what was going on. The x-ray showed a growth that completely engulfed the kidney beyond recognition. Even my medically untrained eye could see we had a big problem. I was afraid: afraid for my husband; afraid for myself, the kids, my mother-in-law. Oh, my goodness, how do we tell his mother? What does this mean and what do we do? Who can help us? So many questions quickly crowded my mind. I was overwhelmed. I looked at my husband and could see he was in shock and appeared overwhelmed, too.

“He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3 ESV). My high school sweetheart and I were drawn together by the shared experience of losing a parent at an early age. It is difficult to explain to another what a specific grief feels like unless they have suffered a similar loss. There is an immediate bond that forms between people who have a shared pain. People who have heard the words, “you have cancer” have an emotional connection with others who have heard those life-altering words. The type of cancer may be different, but the spiritual shift that takes place after hearing those unwanted words affects the cancer patient in ways only they can understand. Yet even with this connection, can anyone really understand your personal struggle with cancer?

“The evil one comes and snatches away what was sown in their heart” (Matthew 13:19 NIV). I remember my granddad’s face was twisted and pained. It was like some invisible fist had punched him in the head—and in the heart—and in the stomach … all at the same time. He was a strong man, but he looked crushed and weak. I remember a waiting room, an examination room with big windows, and doctors and nurses moving around me. I was being diagnosed with cancer. At three-and-a-half years old, I did not understand. But I did see that something had stolen my granddad’s strength, and that worried me.

“The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children” (Romans 8:16 NIV). Cancer can lead to an identity crisis. If you cannot continue in your profession, fulfill your family role, and engage in your activities, who are you? After my cancer diagnosis, possibly losing my job terrified me. I had been a pastor for twenty years. If I wasn’t that, what would I be? What would be my purpose? Where would I belong? Who would affirm me? Where would I find friends? Who would provide security? Everything depended upon my work. I feared losing my job more than dying!