Years ago, our pastor introduced us to the concept of a Chrismon tree, a Christmas tree with ornaments containing the names of Christ. Ultimately, Donn and I picked our favorite names of Christ and had someone paint them on round, gold ornaments.
Now each year, every member of our family chooses an ornament with the name of Christ of their choice and places it on our small, flat-wall Christmas tree. Generally, we start with the youngest member of the family, progressing to the eldest. This means I’m one of the last to choose.
One of my favorite names of Christ, which I usually choose, is “Truth,” as Jesus said, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” However, this year when my turn came, Truth had already been chosen. I sorted through the remaining ornaments until the one that said “Rock” caught my eye. It brought back a memory.
Some weeks ago, I was called into a crisis situation. As I spoke to the couple involved, I stated that Jesus is the Rock, and He is the only one qualified for that position. In this crisis, she couldn’t be his Rock, and he couldn’t be hers. Only Jesus.
I picked up the ornament ornately lettered “Rock,” placed it on the tree, and wondered if there was a reason this was the ornament I’d chosen. No one in our family except Donn knew that I was scheduled to have two needle biopsies on January third. (Initially, the biopsies had been scheduled for December 21, but I had rescheduled, not wanting anything to ruin yet another Christmas for our family.)
Once again I marveled at the peace that had permeated my heart soon after I’d been told on the 8th of December I might need to come back because the technician who had been doing my ultrasounds for years had concerns about the results.
I was no stranger to these situations, having had needle biopsies at least twice more than twenty years earlier and having had repeat mammograms more often than that during that same time period. And every time I had been a basket case, my imagination running wild, playing on all my deepest fears.
The eighth of December was no exception as I got into my car and the usual scenario began, with new additions because of all that we’d been through over the past two years. Then with determination, I said, “No, I’m not going there this time. I will not do what I’ve done in the past.” I shut down my imagination and every time a thought tried to infiltrate my mind, I calmly turned away.
As I hung the Rock ornament on the tree on December 23, I could honestly say that since making that decision, I hadn’t worried and I hadn’t been afraid. When I woke up each morning, I didn’t wake up to a cloud of doom hanging over me. I had simply been living my regular life. Philippians 4:6-7 was my reality, Be anxious in nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God and God’s peace which passes all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. I had been experiencing Jesus as my Rock.
My only concern was telling our family who have already been through so much. I would have chosen not to tell them at all until I had the biopsy results, but years earlier, Donn’s mother had done that. Our daughter, Angi’s response had been, “Mom, don’t you EVER do that to us!” So I waited to have the biopsies until after Christmas and didn’t tell our girls until the night before. When that group text was sent, I felt as though a heavy load had been lifted from my chest.
As I waited for the biopsies to be done, and then waited for the results, I wondered if my peace would hold if the news was bad. Would my Rock still keep me steady? I believed that it would. I had become accustomed to living in peace without fear, and I saw no reason to give in to it no matter what the results of the biopsies.
When my nurse navigator called to tell me it was cancer, my ROCK held me steady even before I heard the good news that it was slow-growing and wasn’t in the lymph nodes. I ended my group text passing along the news to our girls saying, “I choose faith over fear, and I hope you all will too.”
I am still in awe of God’s peace that prevails, but I wondered why I am able to maintain this peace when I’d been a basket case each time I’d faced this foe twenty years ago. Then I remembered a message I’d heard in Meadville Park twenty years earlier from a petite, red head named Marie. That message had resulted in me beginning every day with this prayer for the past twenty years, “Fill me with your Spirit and enable me to bring my entire spirit, soul and body under the reign of your Spirit.”
As I lived out that message twenty years ago, I developed a handout for my counseling clients called Strategies for Spirit-Controlled Living. Step #3 is “Remember that we have a choice about how we are going to respond to situations that confront us….We want to believe that we don’t have a choice about how we will respond when upsetting things happen, but by God’s grace we can choose to remain calm if we realize that we do not have to allow our emotions to control us.” Praise God it’s true.
By God’s grace, II Corinthians 10:4 has also become a reality. Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought in obedience of Christ.”
I’m so thankful that God gave me twenty years to practice what I’d learned before retesting me on the subject I’d failed miserably so many times. Someone once said, “With God, we never fail a course, we just get to keep taking it over and over until we pass.” Praise God that when Jesus is our Rock, He holds us steady come what may.
Father, help me choose every day to be controlled by your Spirit rather than by my emotions and my fears. Help me cling to the Rock that is higher than I. (Psalm 61:1) Amen.