I looked at the clock and grew increasingly impatient. I had been sitting at the doctor’s waiting room for almost an hour. I knew horrible Atlanta traffic would follow me all the way home. If I lingered a little longer, I would certainly be late for carline. After what seemed to be another hour, the door finally opened and I heard my name. After checking in with the nurse, I was escorted to the room where the doctor would see me.

Waiting again.

One year. It had been one year since my last visit. As I looked around the same room, I recalled my second yearly check up after cancer and how peaceful I felt. The words from the doctor still rang in my ears: “The chance of the cancer coming back is only 2-3%.”

And so I sat, stats in mind, waiting for the doctor with the same peace and assurance that I had one year ago.

When the door opened and I saw the doctor’s face, all impatience left me. All of a sudden, nothing else mattered.

“The CT Scan showed an area of enhancement where the cancer was removed. We will need to see the actual images, but we probably will need to re-do the scan in another six months. At this point, I cannot confirm that the cancer is not back. And we don’t want to expose you to radiation again so soon.”

Six months?

I felt silly for being impatient while waiting for one hour. I would gladly wait another hour or two. It would be no problem at all. I promise.

But waiting to know if CANCER is back or not? That kind of waiting, I don’t know that I can do.

At least not on my own.

Friday didn’t start well at all. The day after uncertainty is not any better than the day after bad news. I was sad. Discouraged. Confused.

I thought the dreadful walk with the Big C had accomplished its purpose for my life. I thought it was over. And I’m still trusting that it is, don’t get me wrong. But even the prospect of cancer is a scary thing to the strongest of believers.

Don’t judge me. If you haven’t been there, you really don’t know.

I know all the right verses. I know all the right answers. I wrote a book about keeping the faith regardless of our circumstances, and much of my journey with cancer is highlighted there.

I KNOW how I’m supposed to respond.

But when you are given bad news… or you are told you have to wait to (possibly) hear bad news, all that knowledge is worth nothing… Unless you invite God to bridge the gap… and fill the void with His supernatural peace. And that’s what He did last Friday, as I stepped into the closet below the stairs, aka our War Room.

I was going through the storm, in search of the Eye of the Hurricane – the one I wrote about on last week’s AJC column and blog post. Does God have a sense of humor or what?

There, in the closet, as I quieted my mind and poured out my heart to the Father, He rescued my soul from defeat.

He took me to my favorite verse in the Bible (I sometimes wish I had picked a different one!) and reminded me:

“Yet those who wait for the Lord will gain new strength; they will mount up with  wings like eagles, they will run and not get tired, they will walk and not become weary.” Isaiah 40:31

And then He whispered: “Read on...”

As I sat there, in the eye of the hurricane, Isaiah’s words encouraged me once again. The 41^st chapter had been marked, highlighted, and stained with tears in past journeys. I remembered those circumstances when God promised to deliver me… and I marked it down… claimed it as Truth… and experienced it done:

“‘Do not fear, for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.’ Isaiah 41:10

Yes, Soul. You’ve been there… countless times… tested and proven. Again and again.

“I will open rivers on the bare heights And springs in the midst of the valleys; I will make the wilderness a pool of water And the dry land fountains of water.” Isaiah 41:18

Yes, Lord, you have. And still, you do.

Even today.

As.I.Wait.

In God’s waiting room, there is certainly room for impatience and fear. But what I have learned is that those two joy-stealers only come IN… IF I let them.

Because I can certainly choose to stuff my anxieties with all the cookies in the house… (and believe me, I have before!)

And I can certainly choose to feed my fears with mindless thoughts and fleshly activities…

Or… I can remember His deliverance and guidance in the past… And choose to see that God’s waiting room has a purpose.

It’s supposed to be a quiet place, and yet, a place where life doesn’t stop. A place of Reflection, Prayer, Faith and Rest, but also a place where I keep doing what God has called me to do… A place where I keep flying until He helps me SOAR.

Therefore today, as much as I don’t like to, I choose to wait.

Not upon the call from the doctor…

Or from a good test result…

But I wait upon my God, allowing Him to mold me in the process, once again… trusting that, just as He did in the past, He will deliver me, strengthen me, and work everything together for my good… and His Glory . 

One.More.Time.

It is well with my soul, Father.

I CAN wait upon YOU.

Because YOU designed me to SOAR. And Soar I have.

 Therefore… Soar I will.
“God is a safe place to hide,   ready to help when we need him. We stand fearless at the cliff-edge of doom, courageous in seastorm and earthquake, Before the rush and roar of oceans, the tremors that shift mountains. Jacob-wrestling God fights for us, God-of-Angel-Armies protects us.” Psalm 46:1-3 (The Message)

I’m joining JOINING JENNIFER DUKES LEE Community of God’s Story Tellers in #TellHisStory

The post The Big C – In God’s Waiting Room appeared first on Soaring With Him Ministries.

Pictures of hurricanes have always fascinated me. Whirlwinds of such monstrous proportions that they can be seen from outer space, with a peaceful, small place in the middle. The eye of the hurricane. Measuring about 12-30 miles in diameter, the eye of a hurricane is the point about which the rest of the storm rotates and where the lowest surface pressures are found. Skies are often clear and winds are relatively light there. It’s the calmest section of the storm. Right in the midst of such turmoil and destruction, there lays a place of rest, peace, beauty even.

I thought about the eye of the hurricane as I lay down in the center of a CT scanner yesterday. As I looked up at the huge circle around me, I couldn’t help but feel a bit of unrest as the dye started flowing into my veins. The substance always gives me an uncomfortable flush and speeds my heart up a bit. As I breathed in and out, slowly, I thought about the results, and whether I will have the joy of celebrating another year cancer-free. Right there, in the center of the CT scanner ring, as I said a prayer of thanksgiving for whatever lot God allows, my heartbeat slowed down and I found myself smiling. Peaceful rest. Blessed assurance. The eye of the storm.

When hurricane hunters fly out on a mission to measure the pressure within the eye of a hurricane, they know that they’ll face terrible elements on their way. Regardless, they fly on, determined to withstand whatever threat there may be, keeping their focus on their destination: the place where the storm can be measured with precision, and stillness surrounds the plane.

Likewise, when it comes to life’s storms, if indeed we believe that God is in control and that he doesn’t allow anything in our lives without a purpose, instead of allowing our minds to wander to places of hopelessness and despair, we should press on through the storms, determined to find a place of stillness before God. As 19th century evangelist Hannah Whitall Smith once said: “Nothing so greatly hinders the work of God’s unseen spiritual forces, upon which our success in everything truly depends, as the spirit of unrest and anxiety. There is tremendous power in stillness.”

The eye of the storm is a familiar place to me. A peace that words cannot describe, men cannot explain, and every external assurance can never provide. It’s a peace that doesn’t depend on a good outcome. It’s supernatural peace. God’s peace. And it’s completely attainable, if only we deliberately seek God’s face, affirming our belief that he loves us and works all things together for our good and his glory. It’s praying instead of despairing. It’s spending time in his word. It’s remembering his goodness and grace to us through the years. Only then can we truly find the peace in the midst of life’s storms: The eye of the hurricane.

Patricia Holbrook is a Christian author and national conference speaker. Her first book, “Twelve Inches: Bridging
the Gap Between What You Know About God and How You Feel,” is now available on Kindle, and paperback at Barnes and Nobles, Amazon and other retailers. Visit her blog to read her devotionals at www.soaringwithhim.com or email her atpholbrook@soaringwithhim.com .

The post Finding Peace in the Midst of the Storms – Atlanta Journal Constitution Column appeared first on Soaring With Him Ministries.