Please Don’t Let It Hurt Too Much: Faith Reflections from a Cancer Oven (#2)
[A note from our Managing Editor: Tim Shorey, pastor and author, is one of our Gospel-Centered Discipleship staff writers. Tim is also currently battling stage 4 prostate cancer. On Facebook he’s writing about his journey. We’re including some of his posts in a series on our website called “The Potter’s Clay: Faith Reflections from a Cancer Oven.” To preserve the feel of a daily journal rather than a published work, we have chosen not to submit these reflections to a rigorous editing process.]
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Please Don’t Let It Hurt Too Much
From June 22, 2022
I had an email awaiting when pain woke me up at 4:30 this morning. The sender expressed appreciation for my recent reflections, but also a weary longing that his own cancer battle be over.
I’m beginning to feel that weariness, and I’m just getting started. As my cancer days start morphing into cancer weeks and months, the cumulative effect of day-in, day-out sickness starts punishing the body and playing on the mind. You don’t feel well, you hurt, and then you start to feel how cancer is different.
It’s different than a head cold, stomach virus, or case of chicken pox. Every other sickness I’ve ever had has gone away on its own (or with minimal time and effort). Cancer doesn’t. Without aggressive measures that can sometimes hurt as much as, or more than, the disease, cancer goes on and gets worse. This makes me ache for those who’ve made weary in the battle for many long months!
Please Lord, Not too Much. As for me, we’re still figuring out our healing strategy—dependent on the Lord’s sovereign, almighty, and loving will. But in thinking over this yesterday, the thought “Please don’t let it hurt too much” popped into my head. More a prayer, I guess, than a mere thought. But yeah, I don’t want any of this to hurt too much.
This reminded me (with a smile) of our then five-year-old son during a tornado-like storm in our Jersey home. It was a wild few minutes during which trees went down, things shook violently, and a panic-stricken boy kept saying, “We’re going to die. We’re going to die.”
Although we couldn’t guarantee him that we would not die, we could (and did) reassure him with the good news that Jesus would protect us, and that if we trusted Jesus as our Savior, we didn’t need to be afraid of dying. Turns out that our effort at comfort was miss-aimed. That got clear when he replied, “I’m not afraid of dying; I’m just afraid it’s going to hurt.”
I know the feeling. It’s not that I think I’m going to die anytime real soon. It’s just that unless God chooses to heal me in an instant of omnipotent healing, it’s likely to hurt. And I just don’t want it to hurt too much.
Two Things I Know about Life. The first is that it will always hurt. I’m afraid that that’s part of the Genesis 3 curse. Everything good comes with a hurt tag attached. Women, do you want to have a baby? It’s going to hurt (Gen. 3:16). Guys, do you want to till the ground to yield a harvest? You’re going to have to labor, sweat, and feel the painful thorn (Gen. 3:17–19). Everything worth anything costs something. Even our growth in patient endurance and proven character happens only on the other side of tribulation and hardship (Rom. 5:4–5; James 1:2–4).
If your life isn’t hurting in real ways, give it a few more minutes. Be assured that God disciplines those he loves, training us for life and godliness through the school of pain (Heb. 12:5–11). Just like my healing may well come only through pain, our holiness almost certainly will, too. It’s not going to feel good.
The other life-truth to which I must cling is that it will never hurt too much. Life will always hurt, but never too much. This is the truth which my soul needs to hear and believe this morning—because these last couple of days have felt like almost-too-much. I need to know that God does not afflict from a cruel heart, like a sadist (Lam. 3:31–33). He afflicts in wise and needed measure, like the best of all doctors. He permits the pain that holiness or healing requires, but not one whisper more. It will hurt as needed, but never too much.
My Father knows the pain-threshold he’s given me. And he will not try me more than his enabling grace in me can bear. As Paul puts it, “No temptation [trial] has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted [tried] beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it” (1 Cor. 10:13).
Not trying to preach, but it helps me to know that the Greek word translated “temptation” sometimes means “trial” (as in James 1:2–4), and in this context likely means both. God will not allow us to be tried [or tempted] beyond our God-given ability. In other words, while it’s going to hurt, it will never hurt too much.
This is not wishful thinking, but rock-solid divine promise, “As your days [i.e., days of struggle, bondage, and affliction], so shall your strength be . . . the eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms” (Deut. 33:25–27). As each day requires strength, God will give it.
This is where I need to be and stay, today. I need to believe God’s promise. The life he has planned for me may well hurt a lot. But he will never let it hurt too much.
And the same goes for every single one of his kids, no matter who you are.
* You can read all of the posts in this series here.
Tim Shorey is married to Gayline, his wife of 44 years, and has six grown children and 13 grandchildren. In his 41st year of pastoral ministry, he helps lead Risen Hope Church, in Delaware County, Pennsylvania. Among his books are Respect the Image: Reflecting Human Worth in How We Listen and Talk; 30/30 Hindsight: 30 Reflections on a 30-Year Headache; and his recently released, award-winning An ABC Prayer to Jesus: Praise for Hearts Both Young and Old. To find out more, visit timothyshorey.com.