FREEDOM?

FIVE YEARS AGO, almost to the day, I was diagnosed with this pesky cancer I drag around with me. July fifteen of that same year after unsuccessful surgery, even my optimistic oncologist was only willing to venture that I might have three months left. Everyone else gave me a month at best.

FOR THAT REASON, each successive July I have had trouble keeping my spunky equilibrium. I should be rejoicing, but instead I find myself in a rare funk, flirting with despair. I find myself looking at my TO DO list as though it might be too long. I find myself thinking that by shortening it, I might be able to alleviate my discomfort and let myself be swept into the hereafter.

PAIN, POOR SCAN REPORTS, or feeling worn out lead me toward the temptation of giving up—like that’s the way to win this game. Right.

WHY AM I WRITING ABOUT THIS? Because I’d be less than honest if I were to tell you I didn’t have dark moments. And while I may lie to myself at times, you deserve better. After all, if I can’t share my bottom-of-the-barrel moments with you, what gives me the right to share my shining moments of faith with you?

THE DAYS SINCE I RETURNED from my once-in-a-lifetime trip to the Holy Land have not been filled with the best of times. Pain from the jiggling I took on the turbulent flight home has not abated, the MRI scan I had on the Monday I returned shows tumor enlargement, and the doctor failed to call in a refill of the prescription I need for pain before the holiday began.

SO, HOW DOES THIS LITANY OF COMPLAINTS relate to “Freedom?” Well, it’s about truth-telling. I’m not pretending everything is wonderful when it’s not. In John 8:32b, Christ said, “and the truth will make you free.” He was talking about understanding the truth of who He was. A very big truth. But the truth is powerful in even smaller doses. Like being honest.

IF I REMEMBER TO BE KIND, being honest will free me from the burden of taking care of those who are capable of standing on their own two feet—or, perhaps even better, falling to their own two knees. But, I have a responsibility. Those who care about me and who have to stand by watching the battle I’m waging deserve my kindness. This is not the time for a drama-queen performance. This is a time to remember that while I may be stumbling right now, while I may be reacting to a date on the calendar, tomorrow all this, even if it is true, may not be as important as it seems now.

TOMORROW I MAY BETTER SEE THE LIGHT of Christ that brightens my path. I may thank God for the challenges He sends my way—even if I don’t understand why. Or like them very much. I may better understand that what I’m enduring just now is nothing more than yet another false low in the cancer journey I was sent out on five years ago.

I DO KNOW ONE THING. If I have to walk this path, I’m glad you’re with me.

You’re blessed. Be a blessing!