The last couple of years have been the hardest of my life. Night sweats, cognitive fog, muscle atrophy, pain, exhaustion, and sleeplessness stretch endlessly, leaving me drained and painfully aware of how fragile my body has become. These symptoms are the result of the medications I have been taking and continue to take, a reminder that my strength is slipping away.
You see, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 2017. Immediately, I began to understand in a new way what it means to live in a fallen body. I had always known that Scripture describes our bodies as “temporary tents” (2 Corinthians 5:1), but until mine began to fail, I didn’t grasp how fragile those tents really are. I thought the surgery would take care of everything and that I could move on with life. But when the cancer came back aggressively in 2023 as a Gleason-9, I was shaken. It wasn’t just the physical pain, it was the realization that I wasn’t in control, not even of my own body.
I remember lying awake and wondering why God would allow this. I wasn’t angry, I was just confused. I had served Him, trusted Him, and tried to live faithfully. Yet here I was, brought to a place of complete dependence.
Over time, I began to see that faith is not proven in comfort; it’s proven in suffering. When life is easy, faith doesn’t have to reach very far. But when your body is failing and your prayers seem unanswered, that’s when faith either collapses or deepens. God used this season to expose things in me that I didn’t even know were there. That included pride, impatience, and self-reliance. I had to learn that His strength really is made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).
What I once thought was punishment, I’ve come to see as preparation. God was refining me, shaping my heart, and teaching me compassion for others who suffer. There’s a kind of empathy that only comes from walking through the valley yourself. And there’s a kind of peace that only comes when you finally stop fighting for control and rest in the hands that hold you.
I still don’t know why I’ve had to walk this path, but I no longer need to. I know now that even if my body fails, my spirit belongs to the Lord. He’s near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18) and faithful to complete the work He began in me (Philippians 1:6). My Redeemer lives (Job 19:25), and because of that, I can face whatever tomorrow brings; healing, hardship, or heaven with peace.
Father, You are good even when life is hard. When our strength fails and our understanding falls short, help us to trust that You are still working all things for Your glory and our good. Teach us to see suffering not as punishment but as Your loving hand refining our hearts. When fear and weariness rise up, remind us that Your grace is sufficient and Your presence is near. Strengthen our faith so that, whether in healing or in hardship, we may glorify You with steadfast hearts. In Jesus’ name, Amen.