Do you believe that all sunshine and no rain makes a desert – that an easy life leads to a shallow faith? That complacency slips in quietly? I do. For most of my adult life, I walked my faith wearing fuzzy slippers – no big puddles to dodge; no detour signs; no huge obstacles to overcome.
But one summer day many years ago, I entered uncharted territory. There were no yellow flags warning me to proceed with caution. I had no clue what was coming head on. I was not prepared, and I did not even realize it.
The morning promised a picture-perfect day at our cabin. Burt and I strolled down to the rivers edge anticipating the July 4th parade and picnic. We felt the warm sun, we heard the gurgling water over rocks. A perfect day. Then I felt slight cramping in my lower abdomen and had a slight fever. “Do you want to skip the parade,” Burt asked. “No, it’s not a big deal.”
While standing on the curb cheering the marching band, the cramps and the fever dissipated altogether, but a thread of concern did not. At age 60, I was in excellent health. What could possibly be wrong? But I will call the doctor just to be sure, I told myself.
A short visit with the doctor, a CT scan and an appointment with the oncologist ensued the following week. “There’s a spot in your lower left abdomen,” the oncologist said.
Fear and a sense of unreality crept in and crowded out my fragile peace of mind and my complacency of faith.
“We need to talk about surgery,” the oncologist continued. I now realized my faith in God during the calm seasons of life necessitated a mighty strengthening if it was to sustain me on the battlefield.
Surgery was scheduled and prayers ascended. “Lord Jesus, please speak to me from Your Word according to my needs. I need assurance that You are with me,” I prayed.
Early the next morning. Burt and our three daughters gathered around my transport bed to pray. “Lord, You know Rita by name and You oversee her heart. Please be in charge of her surgery,” Burt prayed. I thanked the girls for their prayers and said goodby. Burt accompanied me and the one pushing my bed into the hallway. The transport nurse stopped to adjust something on the bed. That’s when I noticed an impeccably dressed man standing against the opposite wall. He looked at me tenderly, yet with penetrating eyes. He approached me – never taking he eyes off mine. Then he did a most unusual thing!
He held a small, hand-size wooden cross. “I thought you might like this,” he said, and extended his arm to me.
I took the cross. “Thank you,” I said, perplexed. And the man was gone.
Immediately my prayer asking Jesus to reassure me He would be with me played back in my mind. I held in my hand the tangible expression of Jesus’ assurance that He had not abandoned me.
That was my first real testing of my faith, and the first of four surgeries and radiation for cancer over the next three years. Each time cancer returned, Jesus did something extraordinary and personal on my behalf to assure me He does not ever abandon His children!
I will be among the first to say, “All sunshine and no rain makes a desert, and that an easy life leads to a shallow faith. But I would add, “Trials lead to a strengthening of faith.” And that is a good thing.