The timing of Resurrection Sunday and the focus on our risen Lord was so perfect for me. In a few minutes I’ll post Easter pictures, but first, Friday:
Friday I underwent a small procedure we planned to avoid. Because the ultrasound diagnosis was clear on my tumor’s malignancy, puncturing the enclosed mass of cancer cells for biopsy was unnecessary. Every medical professional involved admitted that they would glean no new or helpful information from biopsy. It was solely to satisfy insurance which refused to accept the ultrasound diagnosis alone. Desiring to be a good steward of my health, I fought hard for a way around it–to no avail. Ultimately I faced the fact that to proceed toward surgery, biopsy was inevitable.
To say that I don’t accept bureaucracy and red tape well is a gross understatement. I may look docile, but I’m also assertive and determined–even rebelliously independent. I was raised to think for myself, with an unspoken motto of “always question authority.” I was miffed (ok, furious might be the more honest word choice) that I’d have to have this useless, and potentially damaging procedure. I was firmly polite on the outside about all of it, but I felt wronged.
On Friday afternoon I lay on the exam table in a hospital gown, while a technician prepared me for my procedure. I was cheery and chatty, and my blood pressure still characteristically low, but inwardly, resentment brewed. I was about to get a stab that might dislodge diseased cells and could infect my healthy flesh. I wanted to scream, “This is wrong!” Suddenly though, it hit me–it was Friday–two days before Easter–Good Friday! Suddenly, my own pettiness was placed in perspective! I opted into this as a bartering tool that insurance might pay for other procedures for my own benefit; Christ was stabbed (and worse) for me, with no benefit to himself. I was concerned about cancerous cells infecting healthy tissue; but Christ took our cancerous sin upon His holy and pure spirit! How arrogantly ironic–that I should fume about an unjust stab on this day of all days.
The radiologist’s needle went in, once, then twice, guided by ultrasound and extracting samples of the infected tissue, and I bled–the nurse was surprised at the amount–but somehow, it seemed more trivial to me now–on Good Friday.
As I changed my bandages over the next few days, my heart returned to God’s sovereignty. How easily I become focused on the temporal and lose sight of eternity. God is sovereign over the insurance companies, the medical maze, and every cell in my body, and He lovingly reminds me to focus on the eternal. We serve a risen savor! Christ has conquered death! I don’t know his plans for me on this cancer journey, but I can trust Him. My prayer remains that He will be glorified in each step of the process.
