Sometimes life backhand smacks you in the face (literally) and completely knocks you windless.  Lying dumbfounded, you need to remind yourself just to breathe.  And you fight to muster up the necessary strength to face each day before you with courage, hope, and purpose.

Day after day after day, we stand astonished by the outrageously hard things of life.  So many are dealing with debilitating and chronic illnesses.  There is much too much loss to bear.  A friend’s son, barely old enough to drive, had a freak accident that left him in a coma for a few weeks until death took him.  We mourn with the family, but they face the empty vacuum of life without their precious son.   A young couple spends their days and nights in PICU as their child undergoes repeated brain surgeries. Continual accounts of injustice and abuse and attack leave us numb and helpless.  Just recently, my daughter witnessed a head-on collision and stopped to help.  The driver, a young man of twenty-six, died in her arms.   And wars and rumors of wars remain a constant in today’s world.

Though we know God to be sovereign over our lives and this sin soaked world, does it not leave us internally questioning, “What next?”  What’s the next internal implode we’ll be forced to face?  How will we handle the next attack of sin and brokenness in our lives or the lives of our loved ones?  And how can we adequately prepare for the faith to navigate it well?

I’m no stranger to the debilitating diagnosis of cancer.  I’ve heard it several times.  The beginnings of endometrial cancer after decades of infertility.  How ironic and seemingly unjust that was to wrap my brain around.  Pre-cancerous colon polyps, the only family member to inherit this genetic link from my grandfather.  And now, after getting braces to improve my joint and overbite issues (and appearance), I receive a diagnosis of basal skin cancer right above my mouth.  The recommended Moh’s surgery thankfully removed the cancer, but left me with a large, deep crater in my face.  Reconstructive surgery required the removal of a significant amount of additional facial tissue and skin (5.4 X 3.1 cm in total).  I am now left with two massive scars on my face – one through my lip and one to my jaw.  Introducing Frankenstein!

In each of my brushes with cancer, the disease could be removed, something I am extremely grateful for.  Each time I have wrestled with God how this could possibly be His good plan for me.  Time does press on, and life gains new vulnerability and normalcy.  Faith strengthens as I realize the nearness and faithfulness of God through it all.  The fear and reality of cancer ultimately begins to fade.  But not so this time.  Every time I look in the mirror, I will see Scar Face looking back.  I will wear the marks of cancer invading my body yet again and marring my appearance.  I have no assurance the feelings of vulnerability or the brevity of life will pass.

Perhaps this is a good thing.  I will be continually reminded of the good hand of God in sparing me this disease several times over.  I will remember that I am ultimately not in control of this shell of a body.  Though I am vigilant with a natural diet (paleo, no caffeine, very little sugar or alcohol), regular exercise, and taking grade A supplements (even natural sun screen), the reality is that nothing is guaranteed.  We never know what effects of sin loom around the next corner.

But we are not meant to live in dread.  Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 5: 4-5 that our bodies are an earthly tent that will eventually be destroyed, yet, we have the promise of a heavenly house in heaven, built for us by God.  Our bodies and this earthly home are but a temporary existence.  And our heavenly home promises to be sooooo much better.  Its absolute best feature is that we will live in the actual physical presence of Almighty Triune God.  His presence will be our ultimate place of complete contentment, passionate fulfillment, and unspeakable joy! – the very satisfaction we’ve continually sought for on earth but could never fully know.

“Now the dwelling of God is with men, and He will live with them….God Himself with be with them and be their God” (Revelations 21:3).  Wow!  He Himself will wipe away every tear from our eyes (:4) – all the pain and loss and anxiety and shame and grief and, and, and…  He will wipe away all the hard and hurting things. And it will mark the end of all the effects of sin on us.  “There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old (earthly) order of things has passed away” (Revelations 21:4). What a glorious, eternal hope and promise!

But what about now?  How do we press on amid the ‘death, mourning, crying and pain?’ Whatever circumstance of suffering, disease, pain or loss we find ourselves in, we must remember we are not alone.  Yes, “While we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened” (2 Corinthians 5: 4).  Our struggles are hard and real.  We long for earthly wholeness and for heavenly oneness with God.  But Paul assures us that God “….has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come” (:5).  What a glorious promise for the here and now!  Yes, we set our sights on the perfect wholeness of heaven.  But, we have already been given a deposit of the coming eternal glories, in the Holy Spirit who lives within us.  Almighty God lives within us now!  He guides, teaches, comforts, and helps.  What a blessing to acknowledge Him with us, desiring to attend to our every need and care.  In Him, we can find strength to face every day, now and forward into eternity.

During the surgery process, I was treated with local anesthesia (my face injected with around thirty shots of numbing fluid).  The most gruesome part of surgery was hearing the doctor cut away my flesh with a scissor.  Horrors!  I comforted myself with praying a favorite portion of Scripture: “God, you are my refuge and strength, an ever present help in trouble; therefore, I will not fear.  Help me be still and know that You are God” (Psalm 46).  He quieted my racing heart.  Before bandaging my incisions, they called my husband into the room.  I asked to see the wound.  Frank suggested that perhaps I should wait.  I knew it was bad, but I had to see.  Somehow, I was prepared for it.  It is not easy to face hard things, but we do not face them alone.  God Himself is our ever present help.  His strength under girds us and carries us in every and all circumstances.

I have faced different seasons of loss and tragedy in my life, much greater than skin cancer.  I expect, dear reader, that you have too.  Somehow, when a new hardship occurs, it seems to resurrect the pain and loss of former struggles.  It creates another internal imploding, but all the more weighty and deep when coupled with previous pains.
The trials of life are like a moving train with every boxcar representing a significant struggle.  Over time, you learn to navigate life while pulling your personal load of pain and brokenness.  When a new crisis comes, no matter the size, the additional weight causes the train to careen out of control, boxcars slamming together, resulting in an inevitable derailment.  This is the place of greatest pain, vulnerability, loneliness, and seeming hopelessness.

But this is where God meets us.  He is present with us in the tragedy, the loss, the chronic illness, the suffering, and every single day of grappling with how to navigate it all.  That’s the beauty of His Holy Spirit within us, contending for us, giving us strength and faith for the hard journey.  “For we live by faith, not by sight…therefore, we are always confident”                 (2 Corinthians 5: 7, 6). Confident in ourselves?  Goodness, no!  Confident because we have our resurrected Savior living in us, doing a work of spiritual resurrection in us to renew and grow us through all that happens in life.  His Spirit equips us to live on!

Truth be told, I’m still grappling with yesterday’s facial surgery.  I am still wearing the huge bandage over my swollen face and dread having to reveal and redress the wound.  But I have my hopes set high.  It will be a hard adjustment for me, and probably for anyone who looks upon my scarred face.  But this doesn’t define me.  I am a daughter of Almighty God, a sister to Jesus, my Savior.  I remain His image bearer, scars and all.  This will not keep me from living boldly for His glory and fighting for joy along the way, every moment of this broken and fear filled and fragmented life.  Better days await us.  Through His Spirit’s indwelling and guidance, we can live fully to that glorious end!