What's Your Goliath?

Most of us, whether we've ever been to church or read The Bible, are familiar with the story of David and Goliath. You know--young boy, big giant, a little courage, some faith, and one small rock with a huge God behind it. Giant Falls, boy wins.

The other night I was up far later than my family, and I was restless and decided to turn on the television for a bit. As I checked the guide for shows, I found a show called cancer stories. I thought I'd just check it out for a minute before heading to bed. An hour later as the show ended and I sat alone in the dark, I realized so many things about myself and about this journey I've (we've) been travelling. I have cancer. Sounds stupid to you I'm sure, but I'm just now realizing that fully. The grief that overtook me was completely overwhelming. I was taken back to the day I had my biopsy. And I realized that when they laid me on that table, the doctor and the nurse had probably already labelled me as a "cancer patient". The Pathologist who did the testing on my samples quickly labelled me as a "cancer patient". And when my surgeon called me two days later, he probably held in his hand a folder that his staff had already labelled "cancer patient".

The day I received the call, I was in traffic racing to pick up a check from our insurance company settling the loss of our dautghter's car which had been totalled two weeks earlier. I was anxious to get the check and get it to the bank because we had already made a deal on a new (used) car for her and I had made a promise to her that we'd go pick it up that night. So I got the call, swallowed my reaction for just a bit, and did my duty as a mom. Then I drove to Rick's office and when he greeted me, he knew without my telling him, and his reaction led me to do what comes naturally for me--I stayed strong because I love this man with my whole heart and soul, and I could not stand to see the sadness in his eyes.

And then time just began to race by. Two surgeries. Chemo. Shots. Sickness. Doctors and lab techs poking at me. Days that passed without my knowing. At first when I thought back over these months, I feared that I was up to my old tricks - stuffing the pain and getting throough this on my own strength. It's a character flaw that I'm well-known for. Stiff upper lip. Take responsibility. Don't let the fear in. Don't let the pain be known. Don't let anyone else help. I can fight the giant all by myself and I don't need your rocks, thank you very much. But then in one overwhelming moment of realization, I knew that it wasn't true. I had not fought this giant called cancer alone and I was pretending to. Tossing this particular rock has been a group effort --through the love and faith of my incredible family, by you--my friends. Many of you have been in constant prayer that God would do the heavy lifting and heal me. Heal me emotionally, spiritually, and physically. I have (literally) walked daily through the strength of others. Neighbors, friends, church members, doctors, nurses, strangers, and above all, the same Big God with a small rock who saved the day for David. I thank you and above all I thank God for the gift of faith that has allowed you and me to lean on God and one another.

My Goliath has always been letting. Letting go. Letting others. Letting myself. Letting God. How about you? We all know Goliath and he can come in many forms. Fear. Self-loathing. Ego. Shame. Regret.

This morning as I pray, I am praying for you. Praying that you will come to name your Goliath and come to know that you do not have to fight him alone. There is One in whom you can put your trust. One who goes ahead of you to conquer whatever seems giant to you. And the rest of us, your army of friends, will be here with you on the ground, helping to carry you and strengthen you just as you have carried me.

Grace and Peace.