Posts tagged ‘hope’
Jesus Doesn’t Fix Everything
I was “officially” diagnosed with Lynch Syndrome last week. At first, it didn’t phase me. But as the days went on and I took time to review the paperwork, it began to really sink in.
The implication of living with a known genetic disorder is enlightening yet heavy. It’s good on one hand – aggressive monitoring for me and preventing disease in family members is a plus.
But it’s also hard – loss of a ‘normal’ doctor-free life and a reminder of a journey paved with loss also knocks at my door.
I’ve taken the past week to let it all sink in. Rather than brushing it to the side as if it’s “no big deal” (my pattern in the past), I’ve really tried to be introspective with my feelings.
Especially my faith.
And then today, a sermon came along and stopped me in my tracks when the preacher said:
Jesus Doesn’t Fix Everything – But He Does Help us Through It.
Come to Me All Who Are Weary
I grew up in a Christian community that like it or not – carries unspoken rules on how we handle trials in our lives. It’s part of the gig – which I would never trade. But, there are a few things I would change.
It’s typical for us to respond to trials thinking if we pray hard enough or have enough faith, Jesus will take away our situation and fix everything. As Christians, we put a smile on our face and say we’re trusting God without really letting ourselves grieve.
Rejoicing, encouragement and joy through trial is certainly part of the journey. God meets us in our despair and provides hope – so I’m not saying this doesn’t happen.
All too often though, Christians spit out quick verses like nicotine patches, hoping they’ll take the deep grief away. But ask any smoker – those patches don’t always work. And sometimes, our loss or sorrow is so deep, we need more than a quick devotion or verse to get us through.
Jesus says, “Come who are weary…” not “Come … although you’ve got yourself already pulled together.”
Struggling with Faith in the Midst of Trial
Jesus wasn’t immune to grief or sorrow – in fact he was surrounded by it. So while he might not “fix” everything, he does provide what we need to get through it.
A holy perspective on any trial will change everything.
Today, “Terror in Boston” is scrolling across my television screen. I have friends suffering from marriages falling apart, children getting sick, deep depression taking hold, and checkbooks bouncing.
Lots of tears. Lots of cancer. Lots of pain. Lots of fear.
Trial is something we will all deal with at some point.
If you’re looking for hope or guidance on how to get through trials, I suggest taking an hour and listening to the sermon below. There comes a point when reciting verses and plastering on a cheery smile won’t hold you through some of the darkest days.
And hearing that it’s OK – and how to still have faith in the midst of it – was a game changer for me today. I pray that others will also find this extremely encouraging and helpful.
No, Jesus doesn’t fix everything. But, he loves us and will help get us through.
Trial & Jesus
1 Peter 1:3-9
Mark Driscoll – Mars Hill Church
Listen to the audio here: http://marshill.com/media/trial/trial-and-jesus
Nurse Kim
I thought it was strange when I missed three calls from my oncologist’s office this morning. There were not any messages, but I figured they would call back again. I was right, as I got the call just after lunch.
In the cancer community, a phone call can change everything. Especially when it comes from your oncologist’s office. Sometimes it’s bad news, other times it’s good. Today the call wasn’t anything that I expected.
Val, one of my chemo nurses from many moons ago was on the phone. She wanted to make sure that I knew. Kim, one of my favorite nurses and people who I’ve grown the closest to, was killed in an auto accident last week. She knew that I would want to know.
My stomach dropped.
Kim?
I had just seen her a few weeks ago. We talked for over an hour in her office. She had recently remarried and was showing me photos, a beaming new bride. I talked about the church, my family and my health status. She listened intently, as if my updates about family and life were a bestselling novel to her. She was so proud of me. She made me feel so special.
Kim was the nurse who saw me as more than just a 17-year-old patient who walked into the chemo room with a strange case of colon cancer. Don’t get me wrong, all of my chemo nurses were angels and treated me with the utmost care. But Kim and I had a special bond. She comforted me after I was told I’d lose my hair, and in a way that only she could have pulled off, slipped me wig brochures “just in case.” When I was complaining about being a teenager with cancer and asking what I could get out of it, she did some research and told me about the American Cancer Society’s Young Cancer Survivor’s Scholarship, a program which ended up helping pay over $3000 toward my college. She always told me I looked beautiful, even on the days when I was pale and hardly able to walk. She came to my wedding. She would even sneak little goodies into my bag of chemo brochures. I still have the “hope” basket she gave me near my bed.
I loved Kim. She was a bright spot that I always looked forward to when I returned to the oncology office. She was one of the cheeriest, most positive, loving people I’ve ever met. Even after she had breast cancer herself, she embraced life even more (and looked mighty cute with the surprising red, curly hair that grew back!) Her beaming smile, warm hugs and excited eyes couldn’t help but give all of us who knew her hope for our lives, and for all of us facing cancer.
Kim’s journey ended too soon. I was sad to hear of my friend and the trajedy. I wasn’t expecting to lose someone in this community to an accident rather than an illness. But it must have been her time. I know that one day, we will each have our time. But it doesn’t make it any easier.
Last time we were together, Kim & I talked about how God keeps us here for a reason, and takes us home when we’re we’ve accomplished our purpose. We talked about how to make it through suffering, and how to make the most of things once we are on the other side. Kim’s one of those people who I will forever credit to helping me make it to the other side with my battle with cancer. She gave me hope. She loved me. She inspired me. She made me feel beautiful. She helped me see that living my life and sharing my story is a huge accomplishment. She helped me muster up the courage to see tomorrow.
I think I was part of Kim’s purpose here on earth. I know I wouldn’t be the same without her. She’s helped me become who I am. And while tomorrow won’t have her with us, I’ll forever carry her with me. I will still smile. I will still give hugs. I will still have hope.
Semicolon Stories 