Not Oma, God! From Surrender To Serenity

It’s fair to say that life has beat me up a bit, emotionally speaking. Infertility. Autism. Ostracism. Isolation. I’ve endured far more than three “ism’s,” actually. Way more. I’ve managed to weather it all, sometimes with more grace and dignity and sometimes with much less. I am willing to handle the isms. It’s the oma’s I’m not really ready for. Yep, I’m not ready to face the cancer of a loved one. So I’m standing at the crossroads facing this new giant. My posture? I’m prostrate. Though a bit indignant, I’m thoroughly resigned. But. Well, just but. Not Oma, God. From Surrender to Serenity…I press on, not knowing what’s next.

Let me say straight up that the cancer isn’t mine. It’s my husband’s. He was recently diagnosed with melanoma. The good news?  It’s zero stage. And all his margins are clear at this time. No chemo or radiation are currently warranted. Some small battle scars now add brawny character to his face after a recent outpatient surgery. And he’ll have to have a few more basal carcinomas removed. But a grisly centipede scar now graces the small of his back.

It’s his visual reminder that none of us are invincible.

That’s been a far more bitter pill to swallow for him than for me for all kinds of reasons. I already knew he wasn’t invincible, but he’s still grappling with that agonizing reality of mortality. To some degree, his head is securely nestled in the sand, ostrich style. We are trying to come to grips with it all in the ways in which we each will need.

I confess his “oma” thrust me into a major pity party, even though I know it could be much worse. Yet in the pit I sit. Because our biggest problem is still always our biggest problem.

I don’t come off very well in this, my true confession. But I’ll share my heart and offer it up it anyway.

Not Cancer Too, God

It’s so embarrassing when we, well when I, look shortcomings in the mirror and realize what keeps me from growing and progressing stares right back at me. My attitude of entitlement is always the primary barrier between me and greater growth. Somehow, I felt like I had already endured my share of hardship. And frankly, I believed a reprieve was in order. A summer of leisure, free from major cares and worries, was what I previously envisioned. Instead, I have a new giant looming over my summer of imagined margin. This cancer giant has not encroached my territory since it took my mother home five years ago at the age of 83.

Cancer has a surreal quality to it. It’s a problem that swirls in the peripheral of those who’ve never battled it in their families or worse yet first hand. That’s too bad about so and so, we say to ourselves. Oh, we might actually feel bad. But it’s still an exterior concern. An outer ring that is safely removed from the tender bullseye of our lives.

Until it isn’t.

And now the target of my immediate family has a cancer ring in it. Because it already had an infertility ring, an autism ring, a few rejection rings, and other assorted disastrous rings, I felt like I should be, well, done. All my trials and tribulations were supposed to be on the other side of my mountain. And perhaps the cruelest irony lies in the fact that after two years of sometimes agonizing work on our marriage, my husband and I had at last arrived at a sweet spot.

So much closer, finally.

So unified in purpose, being of the same mind and having the same love of Christ,  just as God intended.

And so, just when it felt like we were lying down in sweet green pastures, a fresh hell crept in. It managed to spoil the pastoral peace I felt so entitled to permanently entrench myself in. (I don’t include my husband in this entitlement scenario because it doesn’t apply. He’s more of a warrior and an overcomer once he finally confronts his adversaries and obstacles.) In sharp contrast, I’m sometimes more of a “lay down on the railroad tracks” kind of person. So here I am, motoring along in my ministry. How can I possibly help others when I am laden with these kinds of problems? I wracked my weary brain for an answer.

Little Beefs with God

As I ruminated, my little beef with God began to grow some pretty significant steam. Why him? Why now? Don’t you see, Lord, this is really going to throw a wrench in the work you commissioned me to do. And that is where the rubber met the road.  I realized that navigating the wrenches is the real work. And writing about managing the obstacle course and sharing tips and strategies with others is, at the end of the day, the true focus of my ministry. I can’t authentically enlighten others from a position of comfort. I help equip others by authentically sharing the struggle. Even, and sometimes especially, in that messy, occasionally unraveling middle.

In ruminating over this somewhat frustrating epiphany, I found a surprising reservoir of strength under my storm-saturated feet. I was reminded of the juxtaposition of Jesus’ baptism and His temptation in the wilderness. In Mark 2:11 Jesus hears the beautiful words of His Father, “You are my beloved Son, with you I am well pleased.” Such lovely words of affirmation, and we are told the Spirit descended on Him like a dove. In verse 12 we read that “the Spirit drove Him out of the wilderness.”

The baptism happened in an instant but the deprivation of the wilderness experience lasted 40 agonizing days. Yet there is no record of Jesus saying “why me?” There’s no record of Him saying it when He’s rejected at the synagogue. The Roman officials, after they had Him flogged, heard no complaint from His mouth. His Father in heaven heard no laments or why questions, either. Yet I am finding that why questions are more prevalent in my own life than I ever realized. Whether I struggle for forty hours, forty days or forty years, I’m not the one calling the shots. God is.

The Job Example

Smack dab in the middle of my latest pity party I dove into Job. Desperately seeking wisdom and knowledge, I poured over this chapter in the Bible for clues. What was the catalyst that prompted Job’s exit from his agonizing troubles? We don’t read of Job actually hearing from God until chapter 38 of this book. His travails and his “why” questions pepper this part of the text. While Job’s sphere of influence automatically wonder about some unexplained guilt regarding these travesties as divine punishment, Job simply wants an answer. Instead, God changed the subject. He reminds Job of his omniscience. Job later admits he has “uttered what he did not understand, things too wonderful for me which I did not know.” Job goes on to say “I despise myself and repent in dust and ashes.”

Aha Moment

For years, I did not fully understand what Job was repenting of. I guess I just chalked it up to an overall laundry list of broken commandments. But then it hit me – Job’s real repentance involves his failure to fully trust God despite his dire circumstances, without question. If we obey God and even unconsciously assume we will lead a rose garden life, our worship is more transactional than transformative. God wants our adoration as well as our total obedience based on His will for our lives. He can handle our objections but we are in no position to badger Him with our whys.

It wasn’t until after the repenting and after Job interceded in prayer for his friends that Job experienced his miraculous restoration. I don’t believe that it is a coincidence that it occurred until after Job did something for others. It’s very true that God is glorified when we take the focus off ourselves and our troubles. Even while on the cross, Jesus interceded not only for his family and friends but also for His enemies. “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do,” He says as His excruciating ordeal begins.

Faced with these truths and verses, I’m back on the ground, prostrate, ready for whatever God is going to dish out with this new oma. I will pray for the courage to face it all. I will remain authentic with my feelings about it in prayer. After all, it’s not going to be a walk in the park. But I will toss the whys aside, weeding them out of my garden before they take over the crop God wants to grow out of it.

I’m not going to pretend or mask my feelings about it all.

But I will lean into the Philippians 14 verse in the Bible that will get me through it. “I can do all things through Christ Jesus who strengthens me.” And I vow to share my struggles with authenticity, courage, and confidence. As I move forward, I’m hoping and praying God can use me to strengthen others traipsing through trenches they never saw coming, either. I covet your prayers that He gives me the courage to move forward in His supernatural strength. Because I’m going to need it.

Join Christian encourager/blogger/author Cindy LaFavre Yorks as she sojourns alongside you in your faith walk. Partner with her as she shares her travel tips for navigating life’s most challenging detours. Through personal storytelling and Bible application, Cindy cheers you on as you raise your white flag and deepen your trust in Him to develop an unshakeable faith to help you go the distance.