Five days ago, I sat in a hospital waiting room (with dear friends and family) while my bride endured a brutal five hour procedure to remove cancer from her body. The surgeons were phenomenal, and the whole thing went beautifully. Lymph nodes were confirmed to be clear of cancer; the tissue surrounding the mass was confirmed to be clear of cancer; and the mass was successfully and completely removed. We couldn’t have asked for a better outcome (besides the surgeons discovering that the mass had just disappeared!).
The road to recovery began immediately … first with managing pain, physical trauma, reaction to anesthesia, etc. The morning after, we moved into simply sitting up and eventually standing. It is amazing how we can be so fragile and resilient at the same time.
In the five days since surgery, Kimberly has progressed at a staggering rate! She is still plagued by waves of pain, limited mobility in her left arm, fatigue, and a “pet” drain tube we hope will run away soon; but there are moments throughout the day when someone who didn’t know her would never guess she’d been through what she’s been through. I’m truly inspired by her courage and grace.
In hindsight, I’ve come to appreciate the truth of a very familiar, yet profound couple of verses in the book of Philippians (4:6-7) like never before … “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
From what I understand, the word anxious has the idea of being “torn apart” in its origins. It is to be undone by fear of what might be (usually of the worst-case-scenario variety). Paul tells us to resist anxiety and to voice our requests to the One who can intervene in our circumstances. What strikes me is that Paul doesn’t tell us that God will simply do what we ask. Instead, Paul assures us that the peace of God will “guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” To be honest, it is tempting to think that having what I want is better than a refuge for my heart … how shortsighted I can be.
I’ve typically thought of peace as this tranquil experience I have when all is well. It is quiet, relaxed, gentle. But Paul speaks of peace as a guard, a sentinel intently watching over my heart and mind; ready at a moment’s notice to repel distress and despair.
I hear most people speak of a peace that “surpasses understanding”, as if that is the remarkable thing about peace. But Paul’s emphasis (and what I’ve discovered in recent days) is the radical assurance this peace has tenaciously secured in my heart and mind. Kimberly and I have thanked God for who He is and what He has already done on our behalf. We’ve asked Him to bring healing through any means He wishes. And we’ve relinquished our future to His loving care. As a result, our hearts have been steadfast (often surprising us in terms of the extent of our assurance).
Kimberly and I have believed all along that the outcome of this leg of our journey is uncertain. In other words, we couldn’t assume that we would get all of the circumstances we might choose for ourselves. But we’ve felt profound assurance of God’s presence and power, enabling us to endure with thanksgiving all that we encounter.
We do attribute much of this to the persistent prayers offered by our community of faith on our behalf. We will never be able to adequately express our gratitude for the loving support we have received. But we remain overwhelmed by God’s lovingkindness toward us through the care of his people.
Grace upon grace
