Part 2
Know, Love, Trust, Obey. If you have not read Part 1, please take a moment to start there.
My Second Surrender
It’s New Year’s Day, and I am alone. The house is empty and quiet. It feels big without someone else in it. This is the first time in months that I am alone. There is still so much I can’t do for myself. I can’t lift my pots and pans to cook some comfort food. I can’t hold my hairdryer above my head to style my hair. I can’t turn my car’s steering wheel without severe pain. I can’t walk my dog. I can’t crawl into bed. I can’t sleep without pillows under my back and on my sides… I haven’t cried in almost a week.
The blinds are drawn, the Christmas tree is dark; the only light is from my dining room skylight windows. I stand in the living room looking around my empty house. Everything is so still. This is what I wanted: to be alone. The emptiness is suffocating. I can feel the tidal wave of anxiety building in the background of my mind.
In one week, I will start chemotherapy. I know this is the right thing to do, but the fear of the unknown is churning in the pit of my stomach. A PICC line dangling out of my arm for four months makes me gag—another foreign object installed in my body. Panic constricts tighter around my stomach. What if it catches on something and it gets ripped out?! The room starts to spin at the possibility.
Do I want coffee? Am I hungry? Not really… I should eat. I go into the kitchen, trying to calm myself with busyness. My anxious brain retakes control. I am completely helpless! What if I can’t live by myself during Chemo? What if I can’t work during Chemo? What if I lose my mind and forget I don’t want to do Radiation because of “Chemo-brain”? There’s too much unknown! I’m going to Google it.
I set the coffee pot to brew and get out my computer. I type in the drug name. The first site that appears is the pharmaceutical company’s website, which provides all the necessary disclaimers and general information about the drug’s inner workings. Blah, Blah, Blah… Inhibits microtubule structures… Blah, Blah, Blah… drug commonly used for Breast Cancer… Blah, Blah, Blah… could cause nausea, vomiting, low platelet count, rash, and in rare instances, toxicity leading to death. Hmm, nothing new there. I scroll down to a forum where people are sharing their experiences. The first post has in all capital letters, “MY TEETH FELL OUT BECAUSE OF ‘TREATMENT”.
“Are you kidding me?!” I say out loud to my big empty house.
The hair on my arms and the back of my neck stands up from the chill, or maybe it’s from the idea of losing my teeth! Surely, this person was undoubtedly a very rare case, and this is not a typical occurrence. I read the next entry.
“I took this ‘treatment’ to save my life, and I survived cancer, but I never got my hair back. I am not sure which is worse.”
Never got their hair back?! I can’t look away and continue to devour similarly disturbing tales. Finally, I stumbled across a blog written by a woman living in Great Britain. The tone of her blog is just frustration. This ‘treatment’ had apparently left her with permanent neuropathy in her feet, causing her to fall frequently. She also had some neuropathy in her hands. Permanent loss of feeling in her hands and feet?
In a near-panic, I set the computer down and stand up. I want to run, far and fast, away from all of this. I can’t! I can’t handle this. I am just now getting used to feeling my bones on the inside of my skin and accepting the popping sound of the plastic expanders as the fluid moves within them. I am learning to be okay with the inner tube of complete numbness from armpit to chest. I am adapting to the rippled look of my breasts when I see myself naked. I cannot swallow this pill. I cannot permanently lose my teeth, hair, or sense of touch! I’m going to be sick.
The self-protective numbness that covered me when the facts eluded me cracks, and a flood of pure fear pours out. The emotion is raw and ugly. I crumple under the weight of it. Sinking to the ground, my body lets out a sound of agony that fills the emptiness surrounding me just minutes before. My torso aches from the full-on breakdown I am experiencing. Every piece of me is finally letting go, feeling the fear, anger, and loss. Every piece of me thrashes against this careless disease.
“God, I cannot do this! You picked the wrong girl! I need you to stop this! Right now, God! Why have you allowed this suffering? I need you to take this, it’s too much, and I cannot!” I cry out to the Lord.
Balled up on the ground, I let the moment happen, unconsciously rocking to calm the storm that rages in my body. In the midst of it all, I hear, “You are mine”. Calm wraps around my body. I hear it again, “You are mine”. Picking myself off the ground, I go to my bible. Opening it to Psalms 23, I pray the words through hiccupped sobs. I hear, “I know every hair on your head. You are mine,” as I pray. So, I turn to Matthew 10:26-31 and pray the verses out loud as well.
The remnant gasps are starting to subside. “God, I am worth more than the sparrows, and You give them shelter and food. I don’t know what you have planned for me, but I know that I choose you. You are bigger than all things, Lord, and you are in all things. Carry me through this because I cannot stand under the weight of it. Lord, even if you do not heal the cancer in my body, I know that I am yours and that you will be with me. And that is enough. Lord, help me to know that that is enough.” Calm settles over me, and only a few involuntary shuddering gasps remain.
Common Misconception
Let’s talk about some lies that many of us believe about surrendering our lives to Christ and being a Christian. Maybe you have wrestled with some of these.
- “You won’t struggle with the things you struggled with after surrendering your life to Jesus.”
- “If you were truly saved, you would bear fruit; where’s your fruit?”
- “You cannot share your struggles because you will cause others to stumble and reject God.”
- “You should be farther along by now.” (Or: you should know this stuff by now. Or: you should not get tangled up in that anymore.)
- “You are too far gone.” (Or: You can’t come back from that.)
As a Christian who accepts these lies as truth, what is your response to them? Here are some that I have experienced and seen:
- Hiding: you cut people out or carve out a secret section of your life to protect the struggle that won’t stop.
- Try to manufacture fruit; this often means controlling your life or the people in it.
- Protecting your vulnerability and being dishonest about your need/struggle/brokenness/humanity (whatever you want to call it) gives a foothold for pride and self-righteousness.
- You become more rigid and controlling, possibly feeling angry at yourself or others for holding you back/slowing you down.
- Feeling too far gone can lead to a cycle of hopelessness and surrender to the very things that perpetuate that feeling.
Can you identify what is at the root of all these lies and responses to them? You are! If you can’t save yourself, why would you be able to transform yourself sustainably? I think one of the most dangerous misconceptions in Christianity is the idea of one and done. That you hit rock bottom once, that you die to self and surrender your life one time*, that healing is one season, that you have one stagnant testimony that carries you through the rest of your life.
*Please do not misinterpret me. I believe you are sealed with the Spirit the instant you accept Christ as your savior and therefore, cannot lose your salvation. I absolutely believe in the sufficiency of the cross. Jesus died one death, and he bore the wrath for ALL sin: past, present, and future. In no way does he ever have to do that again for either you or me. He can do that because, I believe, the Father can see the whole picture. Therefore, not one drop of Jesus’s blood will be wasted.
The truth about you and me is that we lack that level of holiness and power. We are created creatures, not creators of creatures. We are not God. We cannot save ourselves. We cannot transform ourselves into a holy person.
Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection are just the beginning for the believer. That is salvation, reconciliation. This piece happens one time. Then comes the transformation piece, progressive sanctification. This piece occurs over time for the rest of your life. But take heart, God is with you. The Holy Spirit dwells within you, and you have access to the mind of Christ. And when we die on this earth, we will experience the eternal, holy restoration, being glorified with Christ Jesus.
One Degree of Glory, to the Next
Transformation is a layered process, and sanctification is a progressive one. You have several rock bottoms in your Christian walk. The first step in humility is taken from the bottom of that rock. You are progressively coming to the end of another piece of yourself and submitting to the goodness of the Lord, slowly being transformed into the image of God. I see repentance as several parts. You turn back to the Lord, acknowledging your need honestly. You ask the Lord what He wants you to know about this struggle and what He wants you to do about the battle, then surrender to His guidance (or will). You invite the Lord into the battle because, without being connected to Jesus, we will wither and die. John 15:5. You cannot do it alone, and that is okay. You were never meant to do it alone.
When you hear “rock bottom,” what do you think first? What do you feel first? Shame? Sorrow? Judgment? That is the lie. The Devil is again distorting the beauty of the truth. If you examine what the Bible says about the rock, it is rich in themes of safety, security, love, and provision. I have learned to thank God when I reach rock bottom, because I know I am beginning to embrace the next degree of glory.
While I wish that it could be one and done, another beautiful thing that comes from growing in a relationship with the Lord is an ever-growing testimony. A testimony is nothing more than a recounting of events. Events meant to be shared, for encouragement and fortification of one another, to draw people near, and extend the grace and mercy afforded to you.
On my last chemo day, I met a lady named Amy. After a brief moment of talking with her, it became clear that she was at the beginning of her cancer journey, and she was scared. I sat with her for a while, talking about the must-have things required for getting through chemo well. We exchanged information, and then I put my hand on her arm, looked her in the eyes, and said, “You can do this. I know you can, because I did”. She cried. I have used this part of my testimony to come alongside countless women diagnosed with Breast Cancer over the years. What the world meant for evil, the Lord has used for good, Genesis 50:20.
The wrap-up
Two things I wish someone had told me 20 years ago:
- Repentance is a continual act of surrender for the rest of my life
- Repentance is not all on me. All I have to do is be honest and turn back to him. God transforms.
In Part 1, I said that surrender felt like defeat. Through cancer, surrender felt like survival. Everything was too heavy to carry alone, so I gave God the things that I couldn’t carry. Things like:
- What if I lose all sense of touch
- What if my hair never grows back
- Who could sign up for a lifetime with me after all this
- What if I can’t have kids
- What if this kills me
You may be saying: “I agree, Sarah, I know I need to surrender, but I dont know HOW to surrender.” For nearly 12 years, I have approached surrender from a place of survival: exhausted in my bones, filled with trembling fear, and nowhere else to turn. What if surrender is not defeat, and it is not survival? What if surrender is a consuming calm or peace? What if surrender is safety?
If you saw surrender as an act of curling up in a parent’s arms (or a spouse, or best friend – whomever your safe person is), how would that change your posture towards surrendering? Would you long to be enwrapped by the Lord in every circumstance? Would it make you desperate for the nearness of the Lord’s embrace? When you see the Lord as your safety and a feeling of home, surrender becomes a deep longing freely given.
Father, God in Heaven, thank you for each of these readers. Lord, I ask that you search their hearts and reveal the beliefs that are hindering their surrender. Consume us with your peace and safety, Lord. It is in Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.