Cancer, The Gift

Stay Steady, Hunker Down, Be Anchored

1 Corinthians 15:58 ("be steadfast, immovable"), Isaiah 26:3 ("perfect peace" for steadfast minds), and Psalm 16:8 ("I will not be shaken")

I woke up from a peaceful sleep.

The first thing that popped into my head was the word “Steady.”

As many of you know, I had cancer back in 2010.

Every year, I am supposed to go back for a blood test to see if the cancer is back.

I put off the test for the past two years.

It wasn’t planned; I just didn’t make it a priority.

I had a visit with my urologist yesterday, and he suggested I get that taken care of, so I did.

As any cancer survivor will tell you, “the test” is usually accompanied by a distant feeling of doom.

Late in the afternoon, I was looking for the number to call for my results, when my phone rang; it was the nurse at the clinic.

My heart sank for an instant.

She said, “The Doctor said your PSA is fine.”

I said:” What’s fine, what’s the number?”

Fine is different for me.

People always told me, when they discovered I had cancer, that I’d be fine.

But my definition of fine and theirs changed when the doctor said on the phone, “Rick, it’s cancer.”

As she told me, a calm fell over my soul.

Another year under my belt.

It is amazing how much cancer has impacted my life, in good ways and not so great.

Let’s focus on the good.

Cancer humbles you.

It makes you realize life on this earth has an expiration date.

Everyone knows they are going to die, but a cancer survivor understands death is real.

We stared death in the face and won, for now.

Cancer also forces you to reevaluate your life.

Every time I take “The Test.” Reality slaps me in the face.

Life is not forever, at least not on this earth.

People ask me, “How is it that I seem unafraid of hateful liars, people who misrepresent me, and those who threaten me?”

When you live for years in the shadow of cancer, what people say about Rick Dancer means little.

Their threats mean little.

I survived cancer, what can they do to me that’s worse?

Besides, I have a God who will decide when I take my last breath, not my enemies.

My career was and still is that of an anchor.

My life is not about being moored to a dock, safe from the storms life throws my way.

My calling is to be out in the rough ocean, anchored, not to what culture tells me is good, but to a God who still has a plan for me.

Here’s to another year, cancer-free.