Picture our little redhead, all bundled in her life vest on the back of a ski boat watching her daddy floating in the water beside her. “Come on in,” he calls to her, ‘I’ll hold you.” She knew it was a very deep lake, and the lake water was very black, and she knew she wasn’t a strong swimmer, and she was fearful.
She inched over the side and sat on the ledge, and Brian’s hands reached for her to draw her into the water with him. She pushed his hands away, “No, Daddy.”
He looked at her, “Do you trust your daddy?”
She stared right back, “Sort of.”
That dear girl. Bri knew there was nothing for her to fear. Not only was she wearing a life jacket, but she would have been in his strong arms. She couldn’t get beyond the depth and darkness of the water or her own inability to swim.
Oh, friends, I am so like my little girl!
I look around and see the darkness and the depths of pain and fear. I have had so many nightmares in my life, and this cancer monster has sucked so much life from me. It is easy to live in fear, to wonder if tomorrow they will find another tumor or worse.
Fear paralyzes me into forgetting who is waiting to hold me in the depths.
The day I can say I have been breast cancer free for five years!
The five year mark is huge, friends, HUGE! My risk of recurrence has lessened even more… 89% of women who reach the five year mark do not have recurrence.
We are thrilled to have reached this mark, and I love that it follows on the heels of such good news with my genetic testing.
Y’all, fear still tries to squeeze the joy from this celebration. Satan is working overtime to rob even this from me.
My timid heart says, “So what’s five years? I’ve had thyroid and colon, too. What are the odds? The odds are not in my favor.”
I picture God smiling and asking, “Ang, do you trust your daddy?”
And unflinchingly, I say, “Sort of.”
The thing is, He’s trustworthy, and I long to trust him with a vehemence that says, “You, Lord, are the Maker of Heaven and Earth. To whom else can I go? Who else could I trust?”
No, the odds aren’t in my favor
God is in my favor.
And whether or not I have a recurrence, He is still holding me. He is still working for me. He is fully worthy of my trust.
And this… this is the picture that comes to mind, the heart of faith I long to own:
He remembered being in a garden at dusk. The sky was purple and the lamps had been lit, and Peter was small. His father picked him up and tossed him high and then caught him over and over again. Peter’s mother was there, too…
“Don’t drop him,” said Peter’s mother to his father. “Don’t you dare drop him.” She was laughing.
“I will not,” said his father. “I could not…”
Again and again, Peter’s father threw him up in the air. Again and again, Peter felt himself suspended in nothingness for a moment, just a moment, and then he was pulled back, returned to the sweetness of the earth and the warmth of his father’s waiting arms.
(~from The Magician’s Elephant, by Kate DiCamillo)
Is He trustworthy?
Will He fail me?
He will not.
He could not.
Think about it.
He could not.
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