[Editor’s Note: This is a guest post by Niki Hardy. She has a powerful testimony about finding peace in the midst of your storms in life. Niki’s humility and sincerity touched me in a way that I wanted to get to know her better. Her testimony will remind you about the power vested in God’s promises for you.]
Have you ever had one of those moments that tear your life in two, severing it permanently into categories neatly labeled “before” and “after”? It’s the event you reluctantly use to date old photos, “Oh that was before …”, or to remember how old your kids were at a Great Aunt Betha’s ninetieth birthday tea, “Well, that was after … so the kids must have been at least fourteen and twelve”.
My life-altering event, the one that pulled the ground from under my feet and became the reference point from which I gauge and mark the passage of time, was my diagnosis with rectal cancer in January 2012.
A diagnosis like mine isn’t sexy or dignified, and definitely doesn’t come with a pretty pink bow. Like any earth shattering news, it rips the ground from under your feet, sending you free falling, as the bottom falls out of your world. Having lost my vivacious sister to cancer just six weeks earlier and my adventurous mum eight years before that, the questions spewed out of me.
Is it my turn now?
Is the heat-seeking missile of death locked and loaded on me?
What are you playing at God? You can’t be serious can you?
How on earth are we to tell our kids that just like their Grandma and Auntie Jo Jo, I now has the Big C?
Over the next year I had two rounds of chemo, two surgeries, radiation and lived life with a poop bag (ostomy bag) for six months. You’d think that in the midst of all that, when I had nothing left to offer, no reserves to draw on, and weakness became my middle name, I would learn to be still and let God’s grace and strength fill me.
Unbelievably, my British stiff upper lip and ugly, prideful ego didn’t give into God’s unconditional love and grace without a fight! I was determined to keep calm and carry on all by myself. I’m ashamed to admit that I clung to my dwindling energy and dignity with the stubbornness of a mule, trying to prove to God, the world and myself, that I was strong and capable of handling anything cancer threw at me.
How wrong I was.
Why, oh why, do we find it so difficult to receive God’s love? It’s an unconditional, free gift that has nothing to do with who we are, and everything to do with who God is, and yet I still found it desperately hard to receive. Then one day, after a particularly traumatic appointment with a doctor who had the bedside manner of a dead fish, that left me gasping for air between my heaving sobs, I eventually surrendered.
Or did I give up?
I’m not sure.
Does it matter?
The result was the same. As I crumpled to the ground I admitted my weakness and total dependency on God. I cried out in the darkness of my empty soul and whimpered, “I can’t do it God. I’m weak, oh so weak. I’m so sorry for not admitting it sooner, for trying to be strong and for keeping you away. Help me. Please be my strength.”
He did, and He was.
His power was made perfect in my utter weakness and it rested on me.
Outwardly nothing changed – my cancer didn’t disappear over night and I still had to endure five more months of chemo, but inwardly I was a new person. I had His strength, not mine, which meant I could endure and persevere with a peace that wasn’t manufactured or airbrushed.
I’d like to say that now, four years on and cancer free, I live life daily surrendered to Him. His power oozing from every pore, my stubbornness and pride no longer running the show, but that wouldn’t be true. Life as a rectal cancer survivor isn’t without it’s challenges and complications (normally involving bathrooms, Immodium and vast quantities of embarrassment), and I have a nasty tendency towards slipping into the comfort of my old survival mode.
In those moments, when I feel my stiff upper lip tensing, ready to spring into action, I remember and recite God’s promises to myself.
He is faithful. (Psalm 33:4)
He will never leave me. (Heb 13:5)
He will give me peace. (Phil 4:6)
He will comfort me. (Isaiah 49:13)
He will love me forever. (Psalm 136:1)
They are balm to my soul and the courage I need to let go (again) of all I’m burdened with and trust Him. Reciting God’s promises frees us to be weak.
And that’s when He is strong.
Maybe your world has been rocked by a similar diagnosis or your life has entered stormy waters after a relationship breakdown, and your pride (or whatever else is persuading you to prove your strength to the world) is rising up to take charge. If that resonates, can I invite you to recite these promises? They remind us that because of who He is, our weakness is not a scary place – it is where He is strong and His power is made perfect.
Niki Hardy is a Brit in the USA, a cancer survivor and pastor’s wife, a fresh air junkie, tea drinker and dog lover. Following the death of her mum and her sister to cancer, Niki was diagnosed with rectal cancer. It didn’t come with a pretty pink bow, but she found humor and grace in the midst of it all. Niki has ridden the rollercoaster of life and knows what it is to grieve deeply, laugh uncontrollably and sprint to the bathroom in heels. Her candid, humorous storytelling helps us connect with God, refuel, learn to laugh when all we want to do is scream and be equipped to cling to The Rock when our world is rocked. You can find her over on her blog, MyStoryMyGod www.mystorymygod.com.
These promises have been so powerful in Niki’s walk with God that she has made them into cute little cards that can be printed off and kept close by. She would love to share them with you and you can find them and download them for free on www.mystorymygod.com.