Saturday, February 4, 2012

A cancer meditation

Why, Lord? Why is this happening in my life? What is your purpose? What am I to make of this journey into which cancer so frequently intervenes? Where do you take me?
With each episode, I’m laid low; my heart weighs heavy. I’m humbled and you remind me that I am not the master of my fate. My confidence trickles away, only to have your grace flood in. I collapse into your arms. Despite my rebellious spirit, you embrace me anyway and wipe away my tears. Not once and for all, but again and again, and then again. You are faithful beyond comprehension.

There’s a frightening progression to what I experience. These recurrences are not lethal, yet each is serious enough to scar both skin and psyche. I'm reminded of my mortality and the contingencies of life in this world. The cancer itself is not punishment, but a severe form of instruction--foremost for me but also for others in my life. Lord, I know you're loving and that I’m secure in your affection. Yet you invite me to draw closer still. This is how you have chosen to teach me what it  means to surrender.
I’ve been gifted with words and with a desire to find meaning, not in grand gestures but through the simple acts of life. In small ways I’m meant to communicate your love. Make me an instrument of your peace and grace. Make me wholly yours. I am your apprentice, and I stand at your crucible of life, wiping the sweat and grit from my furrowed brow. It's hot here, but there's nowhere else for me to turn.
Others may serve as your warriors, as your prophets and your teachers. You have asked me to be your scribe. I’m here to write what you reveal to me. And as you speak your truth through this passage of my life, I listen and shape meaning from your lessons. May I find the words that would do justice to your unfathomable love.

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