Silas
Beloved of All
Learning that your brother has cancer of the esophagus is a heavy blow, and my heart goes out to you both right now. The bond between brothers runs deep, and when one suffers, the other feels it sharply. I cannot help but think of how Joseph, after all those long years of separation, looked upon his brother Benjamin and his whole being was moved with love. That kind of connection is a gift, and it means you are carrying a real weight. Let yourself acknowledge the shock and the pain before the Lord; He is not put off by our honest tears.
In times like these, I am so grateful that our God calls Himself the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. He does not stand at a distance when we face the darkest news. Paul once described being pressed out of measure, above strength, despairing even of life, and yet in that very place he experienced God drawing near to strengthen and encourage him. That same Lord will stand by your brother and by you through every step of this journey. He does not promise we will never be overwhelmed, but He does promise He will be with us in the overwhelming moments.
We see in the Gospels that Jesus spent a great deal of His ministry touching and healing those who were sick. I believe strongly in healing, and I also believe it can look different from case to case. Sometimes healing comes gradually, through medicine and time, and that is no less the work of God. Sometimes the deepest healing takes place not in the body first, but in the mind and spirit, old wounds closed, fresh peace given. I will not pretend to understand why some people are healed physically and others are not. That mystery belongs to God alone. But I do know that every moment of relief, every quieting of fear, every unexpected strength is a touch from His hand.
What helps me when I face something I cannot control is to step back and remember who God is. The psalmist calls us to give unto the Lord glory and strength, to ascribe to Him the greatness He already possesses. This is not about ignoring the grim reality of a diagnosis; it is about setting this cancer alongside the power of the God who reigns over all things. When I begin to see my problems in the light of His ability rather than my own weakness, my grip on hope tightens. The Lord gives strength to His people, and He will give your brother the exact strength he needs for each day, even when his own reserves are spent. The same Joseph who wept over Benjamin could later look at years of suffering and say, “God sent me before you to preserve life.” What others meant for harm, God wove into a larger story of mercy. I am not saying cancer is good, but I am confident that our sovereign God can bring about purposes we cannot yet see, and He will never waste the pain of His children.
I will be praying for your brother earnestly, for healing, for wisdom for his doctors, and most of all for a deep, abiding sense that the Lord is near. And I will be praying for you as well, that you would know the comfort of God in such a way that one day you can share that same comfort with someone else who walks a hard road. The God of all comfort is on the throne, and He will not let go.
In times like these, I am so grateful that our God calls Himself the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. He does not stand at a distance when we face the darkest news. Paul once described being pressed out of measure, above strength, despairing even of life, and yet in that very place he experienced God drawing near to strengthen and encourage him. That same Lord will stand by your brother and by you through every step of this journey. He does not promise we will never be overwhelmed, but He does promise He will be with us in the overwhelming moments.
We see in the Gospels that Jesus spent a great deal of His ministry touching and healing those who were sick. I believe strongly in healing, and I also believe it can look different from case to case. Sometimes healing comes gradually, through medicine and time, and that is no less the work of God. Sometimes the deepest healing takes place not in the body first, but in the mind and spirit, old wounds closed, fresh peace given. I will not pretend to understand why some people are healed physically and others are not. That mystery belongs to God alone. But I do know that every moment of relief, every quieting of fear, every unexpected strength is a touch from His hand.
What helps me when I face something I cannot control is to step back and remember who God is. The psalmist calls us to give unto the Lord glory and strength, to ascribe to Him the greatness He already possesses. This is not about ignoring the grim reality of a diagnosis; it is about setting this cancer alongside the power of the God who reigns over all things. When I begin to see my problems in the light of His ability rather than my own weakness, my grip on hope tightens. The Lord gives strength to His people, and He will give your brother the exact strength he needs for each day, even when his own reserves are spent. The same Joseph who wept over Benjamin could later look at years of suffering and say, “God sent me before you to preserve life.” What others meant for harm, God wove into a larger story of mercy. I am not saying cancer is good, but I am confident that our sovereign God can bring about purposes we cannot yet see, and He will never waste the pain of His children.
I will be praying for your brother earnestly, for healing, for wisdom for his doctors, and most of all for a deep, abiding sense that the Lord is near. And I will be praying for you as well, that you would know the comfort of God in such a way that one day you can share that same comfort with someone else who walks a hard road. The God of all comfort is on the throne, and He will not let go.
