His and His alone.

At times over the past three weeks, I've felt so awful, I've prayed that God would take me. Then, knowing that the worst is really yet to come, I feel even more resolved. "Father," I've prayed, "I cannot take my own life, but would You protect me from the treatments, the pain, the restlessness, the sleeplessness, the fear? Would You take me now, before it really starts?"

I'm alive. Apparently--there's purpose.

Whatever anything is, it ought to be honest. So I'm giving you the real deal.

About three weeks ago, I found out that at 26, and with no risk factors, I have a cancer that gives me a 50-60% chance of life at the 5-year mark.

Immediately, I knew that I wanted to live this thing for God. Right at this moment, I know that strongly. But in between--I've lived a decade in only days.

I've been angry at God, doubled over in tears in the shower, shouting silently at Him about pain and promises. I've been ecstatic with Him, thanking Him over and again for the opportunity to praise Him in that same pain. I've fallen asleep on the bathroom floor, too nauseous to get to bed. I've cried openly as the nurse tries to find a vein, struggling to tell her that I just found out, I'm just so scared. I've learned that each person I know deals differently, and because each is so precious to me, it's worth it to figure out how to deal together.

I've been hopeless. And today, hope-filled. I've been humbled by the sheer number and force of the prayers storming heaven on my behalf. I've known, somewhere, that this is a powerful testimony if only I can keep faith. And I've felt, just as gently, that He'll keep my faith, as He keeps everything, so that in the end the final testimony is His and His alone.

It's easy to imagine that you love God when the first call comes. The oncologist says, "You have cancer," and you say, "God will give me peace." And then, you're violently throwing up a saltine cracker and a couple sips of ginger ale, thinking, "Jesus, some peace would be great right about nooowwww."

The truth is that if I praise Him, I do it because He rallies within me, and if I show strength, it's really His you're seeing, and if I seem at all courageous, Jesus is working a miracle. But I'll tell you something--if that's what this life of faith is about, if that's the secret to the incredible joy I see in the lives of life-long Christians, if that's what causes them to go out and give extravagantly, and live dangerously, and love courageously--this cancer is worth it.