It wasn’t just a cancer diagnosis, it was a death sentence. The fall of 2020 was a busy season for our family. We had recently relocated to be closer to Joshua’s work. Then just days before his surprise diagnosis we had what was literally a mountain top experience, Grand Canyon style. The adventure and hope of this new season for our family came crashing down. What we thought was a routine colonoscopy, just a check in the box to confirm his colon was squeaky clean (he was approaching forty, after all), turned out to be a smoking gun—new home, new community, and now a new diagnosis. Joshua sat alone with the doctor as the kids and I waited in the car. Despite the significance of this moment, covid rules kept us apart. A perpetual state of shock lingered over our home as more bad news continued to come in that week. Stage four colorectal cancer. The kind people don’t come back from. The oncologist gave us no expectation that Joshua would survive the year.
The covid craze around us faded into the background. My world suddenly felt hollow; all I could think about was how burdensome it had become to take the next breath. I couldn’t function. “What do we DO?” was the question that played on repeat in my mind. I recalled the many Sunday school lessons from my childhood of God’s people crying out to the Lord in their distress. God hears the cries of His people was the theme that I recalled repeatedly.
In my distress I called upon the Lord; to my God, I cried for help. From his temple, he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears. Ps 18:6
The Great Rescuer, the One who loves His people was present, and we needed only to turn our hearts toward Him. This diagnosis made us want to dig a hole and hide from the world, but Joshua had life assignments as a father and husband that were not yet fulfilled. We did not believe that the Lord was yet calling him home.
So we got on our knees and cried out to the Lord.
It was one of the hardest things I did in that season. My heart was raw and exceptionally vulnerable, yet it was the only thing I had to give. I knew the Lord loved us. I knew that He was good. But I had suddenly lost the security of a future with my love and my children with their father. I felt wounded. But God had been consistent in answering the cries of His people and I knew that my place to fight was on my knees.
So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Isaiah 41:10
We sang, we prayed, but mostly we cried. It was honest and real and it all came from hearts that were struggling but still longing to be surrendered. For several evenings Joshua and I took this position in our living room. Dulled by the reality we were facing but desperate for help, it came.
Have you ever seen the landscape after a fresh snowfall? Almost like a heavy quilt, the snow lays gracefully over nature, designed to tuck into all the corners just right. So powerful its impact yet so gentle in its fall. And just so, peace fell over our home. When and how exactly, I’m not even sure but it was deep and much like an old friend, so very welcomed. It quenched the thirst in us. The fear, the desperation we felt, it was all soothed. Kind of like the rough edges had been worn off the struggle and now we could get up and face what lay ahead of us.
We had cried out to the Lord in our distress and from the abundance of His goodness, He provided. My kids were able to ask their questions, I did my homework to find the right treatment we wanted, and Joshua was able to go back to work. Peace covered us so that we could move forward and address cancer as a family.
It may surprise some to hear how hard it was for me to pray in those early days. If there was ever a time in my life that I would expect to find myself praying, this was it. But in my pain, I couldn’t find the words. I could, however, lay prostrate before the Lord both in my heart and in my life. A position of surrender and acceptance. A position that says Your will, not mine. As we submitted our hopes for our family and plans for the future, that was when the blessing of peace came to our home. Our hearts were now fertile ground. We wrote down many of God’s promises from the Word so that we could depend on them to strengthen us through each passing challenge.
“you will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and (I) will bring you back from captivity..” Jeremiah 29:13-14
We heavily depended on our church family to pray with us and for us in those early days. We also found strength as we received words of encouragement and support. What we wanted was answers to Joshua’s medical needs and reassurance that he was going to be okay. What God provided was the peace we needed to get through the day. Despite the odds, Joshua’s body eventually recovered.
Here are some tips to find encouragement for the dark days:
Search the Bible for God’s promises to His children. Find one that applies to you and hold onto it. Don’t try to fulfill it, that’s not your job. Just believe it.
Learn the different names of God. Find the ones that pertain to your circumstances and begin using those names in your prayers. Ask God to be those names in your life.
Find other believers who know how to pray and are willing to pray for you. Give them specific prayer requests that they can take to the Lord on your behalf.
Aimee Crouch lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband Joshua and their two children. Her family uses their knowledge of holistic health and experience with cancer to minister to others. Follow her on social media at www.instagram.com/naturally.aimee
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