Scars, Sunlight and Fierce Grace

Grief and gratitude showed up in my life at the same time this spring—and I didn’t know what to do with either of them.

This past March and April were heavy months for me emotionally and mentally. In March, I thanked God for my cancer remission. In April, I cried because my mom, who passed away a while back, wasn’t here to see it. I didn’t know how to hold both at the same time. I felt grateful and guilty.  My overwhelming gratitude for my remission from cancer and my continued feelings of the loss of my mother from cancer had collided.  I felt lost and numb yet God met me in that place. In that place, I found that grief and gratitude can abide together.  My sorrow does not negate my gratitude; it draws attention to it.

Solitude with Jesus and spending time asking what he wants me to learn from Him on this part of my journey led me to Psalm 42:11 “Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God”.    

As I was sitting and thinking about the magnitude of my cancer journey this time last year and how I could best show the heart of Jesus through it, the word FIERCE kept coming into my mind.  Not fierce like a battle warrior, but a persistent and steadfast presence, who when life’s challenges hit me in the face I was determined to persevere even with huge roadblocks in my path.  I remember sitting in the chemo chair, exhausted in a way I didn’t know existed, whispering the same two words over and over: “Lord, help me.” There was nothing polished about that prayer. No long explanation. Just need. 

Each day I would cry out to Jesus for help.  My need was mighty and I recognized Jesus for who He is and I trusted His heart. This act of humble obedience in asking God to have mercy on me continued for days as I continued my treatments.  Each day the tests, the chemo, the pain, the fatigue, etc, it all kept getting worse.  My steadfastness remained. The simple prayer, a humble spirit and my faith in the healing hands of Jesus kept me going.

Somewhere in those quiet, desperate prayers, God began to show me something unexpected: this is what being fierce really looks like. I used to think fierce meant pushing through, staying strong, never letting people see you struggle.  But in that season, fierce looked like tears, quiet prayers, and choosing to trust God even when I did not understand His choices.  

When a crisis hits in your life do you default into paralyzing fear, or like me, you are more likely to hide behind a coping mechanism designed to numb the pain or distract you from it? Or are you the person who is set on imposing your own will into the situation?  During these last few months Jesus has shown me how to rise up, be FIERCE and move forward to the other side of my pain toward rejoicing.  Once we embrace God’s will we are more able to get up and keep going.  Christ will never leave us or forsake us.  My prayer is that we can keep our eyes on his faithful character and continue to move forward in his will.  Amen