The Ugly Truth About Cancer.

Cancer is on my mind today. Cancer is so ugly, so mysterious. So powerful and all-encompassing in its ability to send individuals and families into a reeling, buzzing confusion. It steals a lot of joy from a lot of people in a lot of different stages of life. I have a very cherished colleague, Professor Ron Meyers, who was diagnosed with cancer 2 weeks ago; last week, he had surgery to remove part of his pancreas and totally reconstruct his digestive system. In less than 2 weeks' time, he went from the everyday of teaching courses and family life to a post-surgical operating bed. The bed where he is now fighting for his life.

Ron is one of those people who is so selfless and genuine. This man would give you anything--I mean ANYTHING--that he has to meet a need. I had him as a professor in my first year of college over 15 years ago, and I have been honored to work with him for nearly 10 years now as fellow university professors. Ron is a true servant of Christ, a true servant-leader. So kind and loving. So, so committed to others. So willing to pour and pour and pour himself into the lives of young people as he partners with them in learning. Ron just became a grandfather for the first time a few months ago. His youngest daughter, a student of mine, is getting married in a few short months. And now this is the reality of his life. Cancer.

Yesterday, while we were all celebrating the day with ones we love and enjoying treats and gifts and festivities, he was writhing in pain as doctors and nurses tried to get his pain under control. His family was sitting at his bedside, undoubtedly still in shock at what is now their reality. Ron was also told that while his lymph nodes are clear for the time being, the cancer has spread to parts of his stomach and to his liver. After he recovers from surgery, he is facing a long battle that will include chemotherapy, radiation, and who know what other types of treatment. And the odds that these will be effective in eradicating the cancer--short of a miracle--are very slim. It makes me sad. It makes me angry. I've cried for Ron, and for his wife and daughter, and for that precious little grandson whom he has only begun to get to know. It makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs "Why God? It's not fair."

The statistics for this type of cancer are not pretty. Less than 5% of people diagnosed with this type of cancer survive 5 years past their time of diagnosis. Ugly. Stark. And very sobering.

But, Ron is one of those people whose faith surpasses even the ugliest of diseases. While I am sure that Ron is scared and confused and has moments of anger, I also know without a doubt that he is continuing to place his trust and confidence in Christ. That he is continuing to worship and glorify his creator. That he is impacting those around him in powerful ways. That he is praying for and, even more important, expecting--EXPECTING--a miracle. That he will accept the road to which God is calling him.

So many are praying that God will work a miracle in Ron's life and body. That Ron will be completely healed, that he will return to our campus next semester, and that others will stand in awe at the miracle they witness in Ron. I am praying fervently that this is God's will. Ron and his family would greatly appreciate it if anyone reading this would join the fight by praying, praying, and praying.

It has caused me to ask myself the question, "What if it were me?" Would I have enough faith to be willing to accept God's will, WHATEVER THE PRICE? Would I cast my cares completely upon Him? Would I seek to use the experience to grow spiritually and reach others for Him? Would I be willing to embrace possible death, if that's what He had planned for me? I would like to think that like Ron, I would keep this faith-centered perspective, though I don't think we can really know until we are faced with such a situation. Today, I am praising God for a healthy body and for one more day with my husband and kids. For truly, we never know what the next day, even the next moment, will bring. We think we know, we think we will always have "in a minute" or "tomorrow." But the truth of the matter is WE....JUST....DON'T....KNOW.

But we do know that God is faithful. He will see Ron and his family through this, whatever the outcome. He has promised that we never walk alone, whether through cancer or whatever circumstance is ours. And we know that one day, we will live with God in a place that has no cancer, no pain, no tears, and no injustice. Only God in all of His glory, with us reigning at this throne. I don't know if I will ever have to deal with myself or one of my close family members having a serious life-threatening experience with cancer. But I do know that deep valleys will come for each of us. And, thankfully, I also know that God promises that His mercies are new every morning, yes, EVERY MORNING. Even in a deep, deep valley, people like Ron can teach us new perspectives on what it means to trust, and to call upon the Lord, and to wait on Him, and to carry on for His purpose, and to be faithful to Christ's cause. Thanks, Ron. I am honored to join with you in this fight.