My family and I went to serve with the International Mission Board in Portugal in 2017. Like many of my friends on the mission field, I felt the IMB knew me better than I did following a slew of medical exams, tests, labs and needed vaccinations.
I landed on the field as a healthy mother of three small children and immediately got to work studying language.
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However, just three months in, the daily grind and overwhelming pollution that encompassed our city began to take its toll. I kept having what I was told were “whopping sinus infections” that just needed antibiotics and rest. However, the symptoms would never go away, and they continued to worsen as the weeks drew on.
In a last-ditch effort for help, I went to the clinic I had frequented for many of the previous weeks in hopes of an answer and remedy. This visit was different and would change the course of my life in ways I never imagined.
This time, I saw one of the physicians who worked for the IMB. He did a thorough exam and concluded again that, “everything looked normal on labs,” until he looked down my throat and noticed that my uvula was “slightly deviated to the right.”
‘Still, small voice’
He then said words that I will never forget, words that set the trajectory for the coming months on which I was about to embark.
He said, “A still, small voice is telling me to give you a CT scan.”
At this point, my heart sank, but I agreed it needed to be done. My husband and I got in a taxi and pulled up to one of the many ginormous hospitals in our area. I had the scan done and was waiting in the foyer for the next instructions.
A few minutes later, a man walked up to me and said only these words in English, “You have nasopharyngeal tumor, favorable radiation.”
‘Punched in the gut’
At this point, I felt as if I had been punched in the gut and could not get air. I was 33, a wife, mom of three small children, had always been healthy with no family history, and this man just came and told me I had a tumor.
As my husband and I walked to the taxi, completely stunned, the Lord spoke in a way that might as well been audible.
Keep in mind, I just heard life-shattering news, so I am not thinking about which Bible verse I should think on or even a holy response. I say this to give testimony to Jesus’ words in John 14:25 that He will “send the Helper, the Holy Spirit … who will bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.”
As I sat down in that taxi, these words flooded my mind, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you … they will not overwhelm or overtake you.”
I could not remember where this was in Isaiah, and frankly, had not even been in that portion of Scripture that morning, that week or even month. But His Spirit brought me these words, words to remember, words to cling to. I knew in that moment that I was going to have to pass through — there was not a way around it — but that He would be with me, and that it would not overtake or overwhelm me.
With this, He sent overwhelming peace. I experienced in that moment what my head knew — that He gives peace that surpasses understanding.
Nothing made sense
Two days later, my family and I were and headed to the U.S. I was sitting in an ENT Oncology office the next week, honestly still stunned and in great disbelief of what had happened to my life.
I felt as if my family and I were on a rug that was ripped from our feet and then we were being beaten by it. Nothing made sense. My theology was completely rocked. The God I loved and left everything for had allowed one of my greatest fears to become reality. Hearing that word, “cancer,” stings to the core with an unrelenting anguish.
After quick testing, it was determined I did not have the nasopharyngeal cancer that was previously thought, but rather, I had lymphoma. I had a very rare form of lymphoma that was caused by mononucleosis and the virus mutating in my body. The doctor explained that because it was caused from a virus, once the virus was killed, it would be gone. There was minimal chance of recurrence.
However, the treatment would be brutal, consisting of in-patient admittance with constant drips of the concocted chemotherapy regime needed, along with spinal injections and samplings to make sure the disease would be completely cured. This lasted for six months. I remember lying in the hospital bed, away for the first time from my kids, and just crying out to the Lord in both disbelief and anger.
When I returned home, I was confronted with an erroneous theology that I did not even know was present.
The God I had willingly laid everything on the altar for, the God for whom I had left family, friends, comfort, language and familiarity and had followed to the uttermost part of the earth had failed me. He was not who I thought He was. Rather than kind and good, He looked mean and cruel.
I could not understand what had happened, and I was even more hurt and angry when I was confronted with the fact that He had allowed it! This stung and hurt more than anything physically I went through or encountered.
I remember saying out loud these words, “I left everything to follow You.”
I was Peter. I understood how Peter felt. I understood completely what it meant to be so disappointed, so hurt, so angry, so confused to the very heart of my faith. Inherent in my statement was, “I did my part; You did not do Yours. The least You could have done was protect or shield me.”
This was a crisis of belief. And yet, He was so kind and patient with my accusations and disbelief. He used this trial to not only test my faith, but also to bring to the surface all the dross that surrounded it that I did not know was in me.
And because He is long-suffering and merciful, He allowed this to come to the surface.
Suffering
There was a cancer far more dangerous and life-sucking within me of which I was completely unaware. He wanted to heal me from having an inaccurate view of Him and of biblical suffering.
Of course, I knew there was suffering in this life, but it happened to others. It was not supposed to happen to me while serving on the international mission field. Yet it did. And I can say that He rescued me not only physically, but spiritually.
I learned during this time that He is God. Simple, right? Yet so profound. He is God, I am not. As I truthfully brought Him to where I was, I saw Him literally carry me from lies to truth. From unreality to reality. I learned to bring Him where I was and watch Him make an exchange that only He could do. He took my “ashes, mourning and spirit of fainting” and exchanged it for, “a garland, oil of gladness and a mantle of praise” (Isaiah 61:3).
Reminder of life
He healed me and enabled our family to return to the mission field. Fourteen months after returning to a new place to restart language and our term, COVID-19 hit. We are forced to return to the U.S. where we learned during our initial weeks back that we have been “blacklisted” from our intended country of service.
During this same time, we discovered that the Lord had graciously given us a huge surprise in having a fourth child. This son is a reminder to me of life after much loss and death.
The Lord then reoriented us to a completely different area in which we have served for the past four years.
I am so thankful for the excellent medical care the IMB provides. I’m so grateful for the IMB doctor who encouraged me to get scanned, and more recently, for the Southern Baptist volunteers who treated our youngest son at a regional meeting.
EDITOR’S NOTE — This story was written by Jenna Morehart and originally published by the International Mission Board.
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