The only “C” word that matters is Christ

They do not fear bad news; they confidently trust the Lord to care for them. (Psalm 112:7) 

Life is a book in volumes three – 
The past, the present, and the yet-to-be. 
The past is written and laid away, 
The present we’re writing every day, 
And the last and best of volumes three 
Is locked from sight – God keeps the key. 

– Author unknown

As a self-proclaimed optimist, I work hard to always see the good in everything– even when things are at their worst. Sometimes, I can do so easily. At other times, maintaining that mindset takes a bit more conscious effort – and a whole lot of prayer.   

If you follow my blog at all, you know that God brought me my soulmate, David, in culmination of a lifetime of surrender to my Savior. Despite my fears and trepidation, I heeded my heavenly Father’s call and traveled to FL to help Samaritan’s Purse with disaster relief, post-Hurricane Ian. While serving – in a completely unexpected act of grace and provision from my Heavenly Father – God revealed His plans to provide me with a godly husband.   

David holds my heart. He is the blood that flows through my veins, and I can’t imagine life without him. David is my life’s greatest gift and an incomparable blessing from God.   

One month and one day after we were married, David had an MRI scan of his prostate at his doctor’s recommendation. Eight days later, the results showed a high probability of cancer. It would take nearly four weeks before we could see a urologist to fully interpret the findings.   

In the interim, my head was filled with a gamut of emotions. A sense of surreality is what hit me first. There’s no way this could be happening, I thought. I waited my whole life to find David. I couldn’t lose him now.   

“This is a love story,” I told him. “And it’s not going to be a tragedy.”   

The reality is that David lost his mother to cancer. She was only 52. My grandmother also died in her early 50s from the same disease that claimed my grandfather.   

And yet, we also have good stories in both of our families. My mother is a cancer survivor – as is one of David’s older brothers, who battled a rare form of leukemia through an experimental treatment that saw him cancer-free within a few weeks of treatment. Despite another bout of lung cancer, he remains healthy today.   

Still, of all the C-words one might want to hear and celebrate in a marriage, cancer is not one of them – neither are calamity, chaos, or cruelty.   

But what about courage, compassion, and cheerfulness? Aren’t those all words David and I celebrate every day? Hasn’t God given us an abundance of blessings? Aren’t our cups already overflowing with joy, laughter, and love, love, love? Indisputably!   

We will be strong, no matter what. I know that without reservation. We will fight this thing with every ounce of our combined strength – and God’s.   

And so we’ve surrounded ourselves with prayer.  

David and I are both warriors. We’ve lived through personal battles that might have broken others. It’s true that we still bear the scars of those wars – but only so we can share with others how God brought us through the valleys with His mighty hand.   

So it is with this battle. “God is using this to further strengthen our testimonies,” I told David.   

“I have more work to do for Him,” David agreed.

We will not let this challenge defeat us. From the first day we heard the news about David’s health, we’ve earnestly prayed that God would heal David’s body from the inside out. We know in our hearts that He is.   

Our God made the universe (Genesis 1:1-2:3). He parted the Red Sea so the Israelites could walk through on dry land (Exodus 13:17-14:31). He brought dry bones back to life (Ezekiel 37:1-14). And He brought two formerly forsaken people together – destined for one another since birth – through a disaster relief ministry and a forgotten lunch (The David and Sara Saga, parts 1-3). There is no way that our story is anywhere near being over.   

God affirmed our faith two weeks ago when we met with David’s urologist. At the doctor’s request, we scheduled a biopsy for mid-July to confirm what we already know in our hearts: the Great Physician is completely healing David. That is our earnest prayer, and we believe it with all our hearts. David’s doctor also believes we caught whatever this is early. He said his concern level was “low,” which only made us raise our hands and cry, “Yay, God,” as we walked away from the doctor’s office.   

As I initially wrote that statement affirming my faith while sitting on our porch, the skies cleared, and the sun came out from behind where David sat lounging across from me, illuminating his frame. After a week of grey skies and three solid days of cold, rainy conditions, the sun’s presence was profound. I could only smile as I snapped David’s photo. A minute earlier, the skies were overcast. A few moments later, they began blazing with light and promise.

So it is with God’s presence in our lives. There is no fear, no challenge, no prognosis too big for our Heavenly Father to overcome. We speak conquest over this challenge. Our combined service for our Savior has only just begun.

And so, I confidently proclaim that the only “C” word that ever matters is Christ. This battle – like all the others we’ve ever faced – belongs to the Lord. And in Him, we will always have eternal victory.