Wendy Doesn’t Have Cancer Today

We’ve been sitting on something for a while now, and we didn’t say anything until we knew. Wendy has tissue growth, and it’s a serious kind. It’s a tissue that spreads the way veins run through a good ribeye. It weaves through surrounding tissue, which makes it hard to detect and even harder to track.

If it grows in a certain direction, if it grows into cancer, it doesn’t stay put. It goes after vital organs. It’s lethal.

So no, we didn’t announce it. We waited. Today she got her MRI results back. Not a standard MRI, this one is specifically designed to detect this type of growth. Built for it. And the results came back clear.

Wendy doesn’t have cancer. Not today.

And there’s something real in that, the not knowing. There’s actual power in having to depend on God because you genuinely don’t have another option.

Here’s the thing, Wendy and I are in the same boat, more or less. My leukemia could come back. I seem to be susceptible to cancer. Wendy has tissue that has to be watched, because what it is today could become something serious tomorrow.

We both live under monitoring. Scans, checkups, the whole thing.

So we’ll monitor it, with God, with medicine, and with prayer. That’s just where we live.

But honestly? That’s where we all live. That’s where you live.

The Apostle James puts it plainly: “Today or tomorrow we will go to some city. We will stay there a year, do business, and make money. But you do not know what will happen tomorrow. Your life is like a mist. You can see it for a short time, but then it goes away.” So you should say, “If the Lord wants, we will live and do this or that.” (James 4:13-15 NCV)

If the Lord is willing. We try to control so many things and we are simply not in control. That’s the most honest thing any of us can say. Control is life’s biggest illusion.

Moses lifted that staff not knowing if the sea would move. The manna was enough for one day, and tomorrow required trusting God all over again. Noah built a ship on dry ground. Daniel walked into that lion’s den not knowing if he’d walk out. The furnace was real. The lions were real. What was more real was his God.

And Jesus, even Jesus, prayed, take this from me. But said “here I am.”

Hope is never lost. How could it be? Faith means being sure of the things we hope for and knowing that something is real even if we do not see it. That’s Hebrews 11:1.

And that’s exactly where Wendy and I plant our feet, on things we can’t see yet, but are absolutely sure of. We don’t need to see the next scan to know

God is already there.

This is where we live. All of us. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

LORD, You already knew what that MRI would say before the machine ever turned on. We didn’t. And we won’t pretend the waiting was easy, because it wasn’t. But You were in the waiting too.

Thank You. For the results. For the doctors who know what to look for. For the technology built for exactly this. For the fact that today, Wendy doesn’t have cancer.

Faith is being sure of what we hope for. Knowing something is real even when we can’t see it. That’s not something we talked ourselves into, that’s what You’ve built in us through every hard thing we’ve already walked through together.

We’ll keep watching. We’ll keep showing up for the scans. And we’ll keep trusting You with what we can’t control, which, if we’re honest, is really everything.

If the Lord is willing, we will live. And if we live, we will trust You with whatever comes next.

A thousand thanks wouldn’t scratch the surface. But it’s what we’ve got, and we mean every one of them. IJNIP amen ♥️