“Cancer.”
It’s one of the most frightening words I can think of. “Mummy, vampire, alien, monster”—these words used to seem scary to me, but they don’t even come close anymore.
Last week, our phone rang. A close family member has cancer. A mom with four little girls. That’s scary. Since that phone call, I’ve been thinking about another scary word: “Trust.” Trust can be a scary exercise.
Trusting a pilot is scary. “Take me 30,000 feet up and get me back down safely.” If he makes one bad choice, 150 people could die. Trusting a doctor is scary. “Give me just the right amount of medicine.” If she gives you too much, you could die.
Trusting God is scary sometimes too. Seriously. Think about these verses:
“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5,6; NIV)
Those words came to my mind when I was on the phone. I wanted to say, “God is in control! Trust in the Lord!” I didn’t. It seemed like a crazy thing to say.
I think most people—whether they would say it out loud or not—would say, “If God is in control, why does a mom with four kids get cancer?” I’m sure a lot of people would say, “I was trusting in the Lord, and here I am with cancer—explain that.”
This is why trusting God is scary sometimes. God doesn’t promise us that if we trust Him He will fix everything the way we want it. He asks us to trust Him—no matter what. He asks us to trust His goodness. He asks us to trust His sovereignty. God doesn’t promise us the ending we think is best. He asks us to trust that He knows what is best.
That’s scary, because sometimes the very best thing—from God’s perspective—includes cancer. Sometimes it includes war. Sickness. Death.
Ask Mary and Martha what it was like to trust Jesus to take care of Lazarus. Watching Lazarus suffer through his sickness. Watching their brother die. Watching the stone rolled in front of his grave. They were trusting Jesus, weren’t they? They sent word to Him and asked Him to come quickly. One day went by. Another. They scanned the horizon in vain even on the day of the funeral.
They were dumbfounded that Jesus didn’t show up and heal Lazarus. The disciples were confused that Jesus didn’t hurry to the bedside of their friend. Everyone thought—no, everyone knew—Jesus was making a mistake.
That’s the same way we think. “God, why are you allowing this? Why don’t you do something?” Secretly—deep down, we’re sure God is making a mistake. He’s distracted. Unconcerned maybe. But we don’t see the end. That’s why we can’t “lean on our own understanding.” Our eyes are so weak. Our understanding is so limited. We can’t see the whole picture.
Remember what Jesus said about Lazarus’ sickness?
“This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.” (John 11:4; NIV)
Jesus saw the ending! No one else did. No one else could. Only Jesus saw the end of the story and knew Lazarus would rise from the dead. He could see where the path was leading. He “made the path straight.”
It’s as though Jesus—through the pen of John—looks down through time and asks us, “Do you trust Me? Do you trust that whenever I allow a war to take place, God will be glorified somehow? Do you trust that whenever I allow a child to die, something eternally good will come of it? Do you trust that whenever a mother gets cancer, everything will work out for the best?”
That’s real trust. That’s also real scary. But He alone can see where the path goes. He alone can see the end. He alone is worthy of our trust.
