A Ray of Light

“All the cunning of the devil is exercised in trying to tear us away from the word.”  ― Martin Luther

Christmas is a magical time that fills me with a childlike wonder and heartfelt gratitude for the goodness I see in the world. I love the sweet, minty smell of a fresh cut Spruce tree as it thaws in its base, the mesmerizing crackle of a fire as it burns low in the fireplace, and the soft embrace of a warm blanket as I sit in my favorite chair reading a good book and sipping hot chocolate that’s just a bit too hot. I love Christmas carols, the jingling of bells at all of the store entrances by the Salvation Army, and pretty much any Christmas decoration ever created.

Christmas reminds me that people are inherently decent, that I serve a loving and tremendously powerful God, and that my blessings abound. I have celebrated Christmas 34 times in my life, but this year will be the most important and blessed one to date, because I get to celebrate it with Hazel. As I sat looking out the window of Hazel’s H12 hospital room in April, I couldn’t be sure that Hazel would see her 2017 Christmas. I sat in that room filled with fear; I was afraid of the pain yet to come, afraid of the struggles I knew we were to face, but most of all I was afraid of the unknowns…so many unknowns. My head in my hands, I spent much of those first few days praying, throwing myself at the feet of the Lord because I had no idea what else to do.

I wish I could say that I prayed like a man of God in those early hours, but I didn’t. I didn’t pray for wisdom or for strength. I didn’t pray that I would know what to do when it came time to make tough treatment decisions. I didn’t pray for bravery or steadfastness in the face of adversity. I did not pray as a leader. I prayed like a broken soul. I lamented, I begged, I sobbed, I screamed. All dignity and pride was lost as I tried to understand why this burden was to be laid upon my family. I prayed until my head hit the pillow at night and began praying as soon as I woke in the morning. For the first time in my life, I prayed so much that I never knew when one prayer ended and the next began. During this time, I learned what it meant to “pray without ceasing.”

Prayer has a way of connecting us to the spiritual realm, acting as a meditative conduit that lays our heart bare and refocuses our soul to communicate with God. True prayer is more than simply saying some words that sound like a good, single-sided conversation. Prayer is an intricate dance that allows us to know God like we know ourselves. Prayer is a communion of trust and understanding that leads to a relationship so strong that only one of us has to say anything. If you pray hard and often enough, you stop listening for the answers you want to hear and begin feeling the presence of those God has provided.

Battling cancer has had a dramatic effect on my faith and the faith of my family. Our life may look different now than it did a year ago, but I believe this is exactly where we were meant to be; where we NEED to be. Our journey has taught my children the meaning of benevolence, opened their hearts to unconditional love, and given them a remarkable sense of compassion. It has taught them to rely on their Creator and cultivated in them a deep set faith that cannot be shaken. This journey has done more for them in a single year than I could have hoped to do in a lifetime. Our journey has allowed them to witness Christ at work on earth, to feel His hand in their lives, and through their experiences, to see the face of God.  

But the spiritual realm is not mutually exclusive to good. The path my family treads has brought us closer to God, but in doing so we also drew more attention from the Devil. Over the course of the past year, my family has withstood much heartache, incredible pain, and some very dark emotions, and while I can say we have seen Christ at work this year, I am as confident saying that we have also become intimately acquainted with Lucifer. I have seen him face-to-face, felt his lurking presence in my home, saw him standing over my daughter’s bed, and fought with him openly in public. I have stared directly into his dark, colorless eyes, standing my ground when every fiber of my being told me to run. I have heard his footsteps behind me, felt his breath on my neck as he whispered doubts into my ear, and glimpsed his shadowy figure in the long, cold hospital corridors that have become my daily surroundings.

Satan is a cowardly but cunning adversary, using the experiences of our lives to weaken our faith. His desire is to destroy my family and rip my faith from me using the threats of death and loss of my child. He has waged war on my heart and my armor is worn and damaged, showing signs of the repeated attacks of a strong aggressor. Our journey has been filled with such intense emotion that I feel totally used up, eroded to a shell of a person, totally beaten and diminished. I emerged from the first month standing on unsteady, wobbly legs; still reeling from the devastating news of a cancer diagnosis, yet emboldened by the initial positive results of treatment. As treatment continued, a sweeping darkness has shrouded my family like an approaching thunderstorm, the ugly cracks of lightning a sign of the foreboding danger housed within. The darkness is always on our horizon and is so immense that it threatens to swallow us up at any moment.

Light peeks through that darkness though, rays of hope burning through the murky evil that surrounds us. This Christmas is one of those bright rays. I can’t wait to watch Hazel’s face light up with joy as she opens presents, plays with cousins, sings carols, and enjoys everything about the holiday season for yet another year. She is such a wonderful blessing to all of us, and I am so privileged to be part of her life.

As 2017 draws to a tumultuous close, I look back on our year with sadness, but no regret. I am proud of what my family has become and what Hazel has accomplished. We have withstood many trials that have hardened our resolve and built a testament of faith on which we can forever rely. This experience has taught us many of Satan’s tricks, but also shown us the immeasurable grace of our heavenly Father. Finally, in 2017 we learned that even if we are weak, kneeling allows us to bear incredible burdens.

Merry Christmas from The Millers, and have a blessed 2018!

"I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe." – Ephesians 1:18-19