A Way Through It

Tags

hope, perseverance

Hope is not a way around,
it’s a way through.
  Nancy Keen
“Childhood Leukemia”

Countless times I have prayed that God would take this disease away from my grandchild. I know He is completely capable of miraculously removing it TODAY, but I also know that more often than not, He chooses instead to grant extra grace and strength — so that we can walk through it to the other side.

Hope in Jesus is the way through difficulty, not around it.

It came to me as I lay in bed praying one night, that this brief earthly life is my only opportunity to shine for Jesus in a mortal body — a body filled with frailty, fear, and sometimes disease. Once I pass into eternity, I will walk by sight and the faith once needed to obey without seeing Him face to face will no longer be required.

Walking through the struggles of this mortal life with hope fueled by faith is a glory-filled activity. It bears testimony to my trust in Him, a trust that holds firm no matter how hard I am buffeted by earthly storms. This kind of faith, the faith of a mortal being, bears what Paul once called, a “weight of glory”.

But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that His life may also be revealed in our mortal body.

Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:7-11, 16-18

I link arms with you, the “Unseen Army” of prayer warriors. I know there will be many more difficult days ahead as we fight this cancer with our little one. There is no other way but through it, refusing to relinquish our hope to any and every faith-bashing adversary. God is merciful. He has not left us alone or defenseless. The battle belongs to the Lord, and the victory is His to procure. (2 Chronicles 20:15)  He is our unfailing hope and the One who provides a way through it.

Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.
              Romans 12:12

Songs in the Night

Oh let us rejoice in the Lord, evermore,
When darts of tempter are flying,
For Satan still dreads, as he oft did of yore,
Our singing much more than our sighing.
     Streams in the Desert
     February 14 entry

From day one our little girl has been a light sleeper. She sleeps deeper now that she is almost four, but it’s not unusual to hear her little voice come across the baby monitor in the middle of the night. When confined to her room, she sings to herself by the hour. Even in the night, often her sweet voice can be heard singing a little song — anything from “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” to the “ABC song”. These are her songs in the night.

Charles Spurgeon once wrote, “Any man can sing in the day.  It is easy to sing when we can read the notes by daylight; but he is the skillful singer who can sing when there is not a ray of light by which to read. Songs in the night come only from God; they are not in the power of man.”

We learn from the book of Acts that Paul and Silas sang at midnight after they had been beaten and chained to a jail cell (Acts 16:25). Singing from inside a prison at midnight seems like an odd activity unless you recognize that the songs came from God, were offered up to God, gave a powerful witness to God, and preceded a miraculous deliverance by God. Only God can give songs in the night.

We too are learning to sing in the shadowy hours when the path ahead is hard to see. Sometimes we forget the words or stumble with the melody, but our praises still rise to God at midnight while we await our deliverance from cancer and its treatments. He is teaching us that singing is a much better way to pass the time than sighing. After all, soon morning will come! He hears and has been answering our prayers. When our voices are heard over His heavenly monitor in the middle of the night, I’m sure He must smile and incline His ear a little closer. Songs in the night are indeed the sweetest of all.

Living Like a Child

Tags

faith, leukemia, worry

Do not worry about tomorrow,
for tomorrow will care for itself.
Each day has enough trouble of its own.
   Matthew 6:34

Every good day, every good week that our little cancer patient enjoys is a gift right now. I delight to see my grandchild scampering about again, perhaps not at full speed, but with much more agility than she had during those first intense months of chemotherapy. When a storm cloud descends on your family, precious interludes of parting skies and sunlight peeking through bring so much encouragement. We’ve enjoyed many peaceful days of play during this sun-filled summer. Yet we can see on the radar that more squalls are always on the horizon, and sometimes it’s hard not to worry about what may be headed our way. My granddaughter’s chemo will be increased again during this maintenance phase of treatment. Fall and winter approach with their heightened levels of germs and illness. Fighting cancer is by definition an unpredictable affair.

Everyone naturally becomes anxious when difficulty is headed their way. My own thoughts stray too quickly to the future and its uncertainty. Corrie ten Boom once wrote,

“Worrying is carrying tomorrow’s load with today’s strength — carrying two days at once. It is moving into tomorrow ahead of time. Worrying doesn’t empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength.”

How can I stay anchored in today when anxious thoughts of tomorrow press in?

As a professional worrier, I’m still learning how to live in today’s joy and not tomorrow’s sorrow. For me, trust and faith must hold hands tightly in order to procure any measure of peace in my soul. I can trust God easier with tomorrow’s troubles if I remind myself of how He is taking care of today’s — and thank Him for it.

Turning over my anxious thoughts in prayer AND LEAVING THEM THERE requires faith muscles that are strengthened by reading His Word. I see how He has been faithful to His children all through history, and I know He promises the same faithfulness to me. I must think about tomorrow as He has directed, saying, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that” (James 4:15) instead of trying to figure out solutions in advance of tomorrow’s problems. As I TRUST Him by FAITH, the clouds of worry part and the light of His PEACE can shine through.

My little granddaughter has been teaching me some things about living without worry. She’s perfected the art of seizing the day for play without concerns for tomorrow. Jesus understood this childlike outlook when He said we must become like little children in order to enter the Kingdom of God. Children are naturally very trusting of those who care for them. They rest peacefully because they know mother and father are watching, guarding and protecting. Loving parents will provide for every need at the proper time and will be present with them in every difficulty. My Heavenly Father promises to provide and care for me in just the same way. I am His beloved child. He wants to fill that anxious place of uncertainty with trust in His all-sufficiency. He wants me to remember how to live like a child.

I’m told that one of the reasons children make better cancer patients than adults is that they are happy living in the moment. As long as they feel good today, they quickly move on from yesterday’s pain. Their limited sense of time makes it easy to leave tomorrow’s concerns right where they are, in the future. For our little cancer patient, worrying about tomorrow is a non-issue. Children know how to focus on the here and now, joyfully celebrating today for all the wonders it can hold. I want to live a more like a child. Perhaps it’s time for a second childhood, holding the hand of my good and loving Father.

 

Beautifully Broken

Tags

faith, hope

But He said to me,
“My grace is sufficient for you,
for My power is made perfect in weakness.”
Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weakness,
so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.
                  2 Corinthians 12:9

Anna and Kristoff, two of my granddaughter’s small Frozen toy figurines, recently required medical attention. Anna’s head hung by a thread and Kristoff’s forearm was completely severed. A trip to Nana’s superglue repair shop successfully reattached the missing body parts and so far, everyone is back to normal playtime. How wonderful it would be if our real life broken parts were so easily remedied.

As parents and grandparents, our heart’s desire is to see our children grow up happy and healthy. We strive to stay on the straight and narrow happiness road, avoiding detours into life threatening illness, sadness, pain, heartache, rejection and personal failure. A perfect childhood is our goal, but real life isn’t one big happy road trip for any of us. Ultimately someone will end up in the ditch with a serious problem, requiring a major repair to get them back on the road. My precious granddaughter is finding this out at an early age.

Sometimes the wreckage is so severe, a repair job appears impossible. Sometimes a head gets glued back on, but not as straight as it once stood. Thankfully, God delights in mending broken pieces. His superglue makes an even stronger figurine than the original, but don’t bank on it being returned to its former “perfect” state. He has a way of using scar tissue for His glory. Broken things are often beautifully broken, just so that they can be used for a special purpose. The Scriptures are rich with stories of broken things, restored and changed by His hand of grace.

God uses for His glory those people and things which are most perfectly broken. The sacrifices He accepts are broken and contrite hearts. It was the breaking down of Jacob’s natural strength at Peniel that got him where God could clothe him with spiritual power. It was breaking the surface of the rock at Horeb, by the stroke of Moses’ rod, that let out the cool waters to thirsty people.

It was when the three hundred elect soldiers under Gideon broke their pitchers, a type of breaking themselves, that the hidden lights shone forth to the consternation of their adversaries. It was when the poor widow broke the seal of the little pot of oil, and poured it forth, that God multiplied it to pay her debts and supply means of support.

It was when Esther risked her life and broke through the rigid etiquette of a heathen court, that she obtained favor to rescue her people from death. It was when Jesus took the five loaves and broke them, that the bread was multiplied in the very act of breaking, sufficient to feed five thousand. It was when Mary broke her beautiful alabaster box, rendering it henceforth useless, that the pent-up perfume filled the house. It was when Jesus allowed His precious body to be broken to pieces by thorns and nails and spear that His inner life was poured out, like a crystal ocean, for thirsty sinners to drink and live.

It is when a beautiful grain of corn is broken up in the earth by DEATH, that its inner heart sprouts forth and bears hundreds of other grains. And thus, on and on, through history, and all biography, and all vegetation, and all spiritual life, God must have BROKEN THINGS.

Those who are broken in wealth, and broken in self-will, and broken in their ambitions, and broken in their beautiful ideals, and broken in worldly reputation, and broken in their affections, and broken ofttimes in health; those who are despised and seem utterly forlorn and helpless, the Holy Spirit is seizing upon, and using for God’s glory.

          Streams in the Desert
          October 15 entry

We are in good company when we find ourselves in a ditch with a broken axle. Jesus himself was once broken for a divine purpose — our salvation (1 Corinthians 11:24-25). I know He is a Master at divinely using broken things. My prayer for our little one is not that she will be untouched by leukemia when her treatment is finally over.  My prayer is that she will be made even more beautiful in the Master’s hands as He uses every broken piece for His glory.

A Good Moment

Tags

giving thanks, hope, leukemia

This is the day the Lord has made.  Let us rejoice and be glad in it!
Psalm 118:24

I chatted with one of my heroes at church on Sunday regarding what makes her so irrepressibly cheerful at 92. She looks and acts like 70, which is a good reason to be cheerful, but I also know she has faced her share of heartaches over the course of a lifetime. She told me that through the hard times, God was always teaching her new and precious lessons about life and about Himself. She values these truths so much. They far outweigh the suffering that won them. She expressed great trust in God’s sovereignty over her circumstances and said that she has also seen how God is a Great Healer. This dear lady bubbles over with confidence in her Lord and looks forward to the day when she will be with Him. If I should live to be 92, oh how I pray that I will someday be just like her.

I want to be teachable through my own current circumstances, walking away with those same kinds of invaluable lessons learned through adversity. Stopping to consider the truth lessons I’m learning is an important part of the journey. I can say that one of the first things I’ve learned is to treasure a good moment — a sunny morning at the park or a laughter-filled day at the zoo. Although thoughts of my granddaughter’s leukemia are never far away, our family has been so blessed to enjoy many happy moments together that we no longer take for granted.

Thank you, Lord, for giving us good moments in the midst of hard ones. They give us renewed strength, joy and reassurance that You are near. Thank You for using hard times to show us Your faithfulness in a deeper way.

I’m no longer a distant observer as I watch others walk through adversity because I’ve drunk from that same well. I’ve searched for stories of others who have faced childhood leukemia to remind myself that there will be an “afterward” ending for us as well. The thoughts shared below, I thought, beautifully capture one aspect of the leukemia road.

“Sometimes, when I look back at that time, I feel as though everything that is wrong with the world and everything that is right is somehow distilled in one small child’s battle to live. We learned so very much about people and about life.

Surely people who haven’t experienced a crisis of this magnitude would believe that we would want to put that time behind us and forget as much of it as possible. But the fact is, we grew a little through our pain, like it or not. We see through new eyes. Not all of it is good or happy, but it is profound.

I treasure good friends like never before. I view life as much more fragile and precious than I used to.  I think of myself as a tougher person than I was, but I cry more easily now. And sure, I still yell at my kids and eagerly await each September when they will be out of my hair for a few hours each day. But I hold them with more tenderness when they hop off the school bus into my arms. And I like to think that some of the people around us, who saw how suddenly and drastically a family’s life can change, hold their children a little dearer as well.”
     Kathy Tucker, CURE Childhood Cancer Newletter,
from Childhood Leukemia, by Nancy Keene, page 13

Our Heavenly Father wastes nothing that touches our lives. The good and the ill are equally sent to shape and mold us into His image. God has made this day. We receive it with open hands as He has fashioned it — and we are thankful for the good moments in it.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
the Father of mercies and God of all comfort,
who comforts us in all our affliction
so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction
with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.
          2 Corinthians 1:3-4

 

Setting Aside Sadness

Tags

childhood leukemia, dealing with sorrow, hope

When the Lord saw her,
His heart went out to her
and He said, “Don’t cry.”
       Luke 7:13

As many times as I have read the New Testament, I identify so much more now with the men and women who bring their sick children to Jesus. I imagine myself among them, carrying my beautiful grandchild in my arms only to fall at His feet in tears of desperation:
     Please heal her! You are the only One who can help!

This single short verse in Luke tells us so much about the love of Jesus and how He embraces those lamenting for their children. He was surrounded by crowds, but His eyes were fixed on this particular woman. His heart was deeply moved with compassion for her sorrow. His unswerving steps took Him directly into her path.

“Surely He took up our pain and bore our suffering.” (Isaiah 53:4)

In the first weeks and months of my granddaughter’s treatment, our sole focus was providing for her care. As she moves into a less intense stage of treatment, I’ve had more time to reflect on what is happening and to be overcome by the emotions that come along with it. Sometimes I am surprised by the waves of sadness that wash over me, brought on by the simplest things — like holiday decorations in the supermarket. I’m sad for what my grandchild must endure, but I’m also sad for our family and how our lives have been upended by leukemia. For the next two years, all plans must be held lightly because the minute she spikes a fever, she may be hospitalized for days or weeks at a time. We live not knowing if she will be well enough to go on an outing, or how she will be feeling at Christmas or whether she’ll be in the hospital on her birthday. She must remain a quick drive’s distance from the hospital for many months because it is so common for leukemia patients to be readmitted when they contract a simple cold or flu. No more visits to Nana’s house for a long while. No coming to discover little surprises I’ve procured or to play with my cat or to see my Christmas tree. Simple things like that add sadness upon the cloud of sorrow we already have over our little one.

Scripture tells us that there is a time to mourn and weep. Sorrow is a valid emotion and should be expressed. Our Lord wept and mourned when bad things happened. Undoubtedly, we will be dealing with periodic bursts of sorrow in the months and years ahead, but we need not live there perpetually. A time comes when it’s best to embrace His words, “Don’t cry.” We are in the hands of a Healer. He is at work and we have great hope. Jesus is stronger than leukemia. At those times when my countenance threatens to fall, I go to my “antidotes for sadness” list. It’s a battle I wage on a personal front, but I do my best to lay hold of these things that keep me hopeful.

Notes to Self:

• avoid getting overtired
• avoid neglecting times of prayer, worship and Bible study
• avoid looking too far ahead
• avoid dwelling on and imagining all the bad things that can happen
• avoid sentimentality over routines and family traditions that must be adapted or abandoned
• remember to continually give thanks to God for all He has done and is still doing
• remember to serve others with gladness
• remember to enjoy what I have today with my grandchild and my family
• remember to talk to family and friends when I feel discouraged or can’t focus on what is good
• remember to take care of my physical self with good food and frequent walks
• remember His many great and precious promises to us
• remember He will never, ever leave us or forsake us for one moment on this journey
• remember how very much He loves our family and is on our side

Why are you in despair, O my soul?
And why are you disturbed within me?
Hope in God,
For I shall again praise Him,
He is the help of my countenance and my God.
              Psalm 43:5

 

An Endless Supply of Heavenly Resources

Tags

leukemia, praising God in affliction

He giveth more grace as our burdens grow greater.
He sendeth more strength as our labors increase.
To added afflictions He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied trials He multiplies peace.
When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ‘ere the day half done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources,
Our Father’s full giving is only begun.
Fear not that thy need shall exceed His provision,
Our God ever yearns His resources to share;
Lean hard on the arm everlasting, availing;
The Father both thee and thy load will upbear.
His love has no limits, His grace has no measure,
His power no boundary known unto men;
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus,
He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again.
             Annie Johnson Flint

God, in His infinite mercy, never stops supplying us with all we need. In the midst of a two and a half year chemo marathon, our need for added strength, hope, and encouragement is never-ceasing. The road ahead looks so long and full of shadows. He’s always reminding us,

Trust Me, I know every shadow. 

We try to avoid dwelling on thoughts of next week or the week after that. We try to stop wondering if our girl is headed for another tough stretch . . . but it’s hard for frail humans to keep holding God’s hand on a walk of faith. It’s hard to keep eyes off of the wind and waves.

We plan. We investigate. We worry. So many times, when our faith begins to wane and our brows begin to furrow, He sends us just what we need — a friend’s encouragement, a timely placed Scripture, a song on the radio. He always knows our need and how best to meet it — even when it’s a result of our own lack of faith. Even then, manna rains down from heaven.

When our little cancer warrior is having a rough day, when her small body is weak, our arms support her — just like His arms are supporting us.  We are so grateful for days of rest in between days of tummy aches and unexpected setbacks. We never know what is coming next, but God does. We are learning to lean on the support He gives and be content with that gift for now. We walk by faith, not by sight, knowing that
He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again!

For the eyes of the Lord
move to and fro throughout the earth
that He may strongly support
those whose heart is completely His.
            2 Chronicles 16:9

Are You Willing?

Tags

faith, leukemia

“The cup which my Father hath given Me, shall I not drink it?”
              John 18:11

To have the bright aspirations of a young life forever blasted;
to bear a daily burden never congenial and to see no relief;
to be pinched by poverty when you only desire a competency for the good and comfort of loved ones;
to be fettered by some incurable physical disability;
to be stripped bare of loved ones until you stand alone to meet the shocks of life
— to be able to say in such a school of discipline,
“The cup which my Father has given me, shall I not drink it?”
— this is faith at its highest and spiritual success at the crowning point.

Great faith is exhibited not so much in ability to do as to suffer.
Dr. Charles Parkhurst

Every person who has something tragic touch their lives ultimately wrestles with the heart-rending question, “Why did you let this happen to me, Lord?” From our earthly vantage point, there seldom comes a satisfactory answer. Sometimes we see glimpses of the fruit that suffering bears. Sometimes not.

For those who know and believe in God’s loving character, we lay the “Why?” question down on His altar and leave it there with the words
“I TRUST YOU”
scrolled across the top.

In turn, God has a question for me:
“If you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I could use this thing to accomplish My purposes, if you knew for certain that this thing would bring Me glory, would you be willing to endure it? If I were to tell you it WOULD bring Me glory in ways only I can see, would you be willing to pick up this cross and embrace it, or would you walk away from it?”  

My heart responds,
“I will embrace whatever you bring to me, Lord.
I trust You that much.
Bringing You glory is my life’s aim.”
My flesh responds otherwise.

I  am grateful that God doesn’t ask me to make these choices for myself. More often than not, He chooses the hard thing that impacts my world. I only have to choose how to respond.

My heart would want to walk through fire to accomplish His purposes and bring glory to His name, but the human in me would say,
“. . . but not my granddaughter, Lord. That’s off limits.”

Praise God that He lets me be human, and that He reserves the responsibility of being God for Himself.

The Legacy of Barnabas Horton

Tags

Barnabas Horton, childhood leukemia, faith, hope

 

Barnabas Horton’s Headstone

HERE LIES MY BODY TOMBED IN DUST
‘Til Christ shall come to raise it with the just;
My soul ascended to the throne of God,
Where with sweet Jesus now I make abode:
Then hasten after me, my dearest wife
To be partaker of this blessed life;
And you, dear children, all follow the Lord,
Hear and obey His public sacred word;
And in your houses call upon His name,
For oft I have advised you to the same:
Then God will bless you with your children all,
And to this blessed place He will you call.”

“He being dead, yet speaketh.”    Hebrews 11:4

I’ve been researching my family tree lately, weaving back through generation after generation of individuals who lived their lives and returned to dust. The above epitaph was written by my 9th great-grandfather, Barnabas Horton. He was born July 13th, 1600 in Mouseley, England and emigrated to the area now known as Long Island, New York. The historical record speaks of his prominence in the community and his good character. He became known as “Barnabas, the Old Puritan”.

Barnabas was described as a “big, strong, ruddy-faced, genial man who was a baker by trade but could turn his hand to anything, and often did.” Before he died, he wrote the above inscription and asked that it be engraved on a tombstone he brought with him from England. He guarded and kept this stone for 40 years just for this purpose. It seems he wanted the world to know that a spiritual legacy mattered greatly to a man who once lived, a man named Barnabas Horton.

As I’ve searched through records and reflected on the names of my ancestors (most of whom have left little trace of themselves), I realize that Barnabas understood something critically important. In a matter of a few short years, we all will leave this mortal life and spend eternity somewhere else. Barnabas’s final message was a plea to his family that they would choose wisely and join him in heaven. As I travel the latter half of my own life’s journey, it’s a matter that weighs on my heart as well.

That’s why I was filled with joy a few weeks ago when my little cancer warrior asked Jesus to come into her life. No greater gift comes to a grandparent than to know their loved one will join them in heaven one day — and when one of those offspring is fighting a deadly illness, the joy and peace that comes from knowing they have already embraced heaven’s eternal hope is unspeakable.

Thank you, Lord, that my granddaughter already has shown a love for You. Thank you for calling her and revealing Yourself to her at such a young age. Thank you that she is so excited to tell everyone she meets that Jesus lives in her heart.

If heaven’s occupants are informed of earthly events, I’m sure Barnabas is doing a heavenly jig over this news. His one desire, a legacy of godly offspring, has once again been fulfilled.
                   “He being dead, yet speaketh”.
I hear your voice, Barnabas, and I echo your heavenly call. May my legacy and my granddaughter’s legacy be a continuation of your own . . . and may that legacy continue through each successive generation until our Lord returns.

The Joy Set Before Us

Tags

faith, leukemia, perseverance

Let us run with endurance
the race that is set before us,
fixing our eyes on Jesus,
the author and perfector of faith
who for the joy set before Him
endured the cross, despising the shame,
and has sat down
at the right hand of the throne of God.
         Hebrews 12:1b-2

Cancer treatments ebb and flow like the tide. By God’s grace, days of interlude come in between chemotherapy infusions, days when the patient sighs with relief to have a few hours without nausea or fatigue. When I watch my granddaughter rebound from a period of chemo misery, my heart overflows with gratitude. Although she still bears evidence of the ravages of chemo, she also smiles, laughs and plays like a healthy 4 year old. Those days remind us that there is life beyond the shadow of cancer.

As I watch her play, something inside of me just wants to cry out,
“Isn’t this good enough? She’s in remission. The detectable leukemia cells are gone. God, do we really have to go back for more chemotherapy, spinal taps, and traumatic clinic visits just when she’s starting to feel a little better?  Hasn’t she been through enough?”

The human part of me is too easily satisfied with what seems “good enough”, especially when aiming for a more complete treatment will most certainly involve suffering.

Humanity should give thanks that God is not a “good enough” sort of God. He always goes for the cure. He won’t settle for a whitewash job on the outside of the cup, but insists that the inside be clean too (Matthew 23:26).

Our sin problem is a lot like an incomplete leukemia cure that way. We would be content to clean up a little gossiping habit here and a little lying problem there. He insists on going for the complete cure. It’s called holiness. Not a trace of sin left in the end. No possibility of it ever coming back. Every last living cell of it obliterated. The road to this cure was so very costly, and it involved great suffering. Just ask Jesus. Yet He was willing to face the crucible of the cross because He knew that without it, the end result would be our death from an uncured sin disease. He wouldn’t settle for that. It just wasn’t good enough. He wanted the cure that would bring life, eternal life.

The minute we accept this gift, His death in place of our own for sin, we are cured of our disease. We are numbered among His “holy ones” before God. As Oswald Chambers puts it in My Utmost for His Highest, the October 6th entry reads:

“The revelation of the Bible is not that Jesus Christ took upon Himself our fleshly sins, but that He took upon Himself the heredity of sin which no man can touch. God made His own Son to be sin that He might make the sinner a saint. All through the Bible it is revealed that Our Lord bore the sin of the world by identification, not by sympathy. He deliberately took upon His own shoulders, and bore in His own Person, the whole massed sin of the human race.”  (see 2 Corinthians 5:21)

Sometimes the road to holiness involves our own suffering as well. While we dwell in mortal flesh, the cure that the Lord obtained is being realized. Sin doesn’t die without a fight. Temptations, setbacks and difficulties cross our path and the Lord uses them to refine us. God’s cure works on us slowly but surely throughout this earthly sojourn we take. The Christian calls this sanctification. My granddaughter calls it chemotherapy.

I wish it weren’t so costly. I wish it weren’t so painful. But I’m so grateful that Jesus tells us that the end result will be worth it all. The sure hope of a cure is the “joy set before us” that helps us endure whatever it takes to get there. I want the cure that brings LIFE for my little one, a life free from cancer. We must press on for the cure.