Travis’s colleague pulled him aside at work, “Travis, you are not yourself. You are not smiling. What is the problem?”
It was after Travis told her about the disappointing results of the PET scan (that not only did the lung spots light up for cancer, but also a spot on his liver and a lymph node lit up) that she spoke truth. She said, “You are living for good news. You cannot live only for that. My father had a heart attack and was given six months to live. He lived 25 more years. But my mother died unexpectedly only three years after his diagnosis. We do not know what God will do. We must live our life only trusting Him.”
She continued, “Maybe it is like your life is this plate. Things keep adding up on the plate. God wants you to give Him your plate, but you keep wanting to keep control of the plate and to manage all the things on it. God will take your plate. Just give it to Him.”
And now that is what Travis says to God, to himself, to me, each time he thinks about the fact that the cancer is back: “God, I give you my plate.”
That plate-relinquishing prayer happens every, oh, 30 seconds as we wrestle through this news. That wrestling is even in how I pray: Am I praying out of fear or praying out of faith? Am I truly trusting that God is good when all I feel like is that poor little plastic mole in “Whac-a-mole”? Hope.Smash.Hope.Smash.
So, we welcome you to join us in praying with faith that God is still writing miracles into this story. And that God would open our eyes and hearts to experience those miracles. We pray with faith for the miracle of complete healing. Even with a third diagnosis of cancer, with God, complete healing is possible.