Not Knowing What to Expect

I’ll never forget the day when my mother was diagnosed with Stage 4 ovarian cancer. I remember sitting with her during her first visit with the oncologist as we anxiously waited to learn about the treatment options that were available to her. She was hoping to avoid chemotherapy, but the advanced state of her illness made that a pipe dream. Sure enough, the doctor confirmed our worst fears: that aggressive chemotherapy was the only option and that my mom had a long, difficult road ahead of her. 

However, to comfort and assure us, the oncologist added: “The worst side effect of chemotherapy is not knowing what to expect.” Easy for him to say. As far as I knew, he had never been diagnosed with cancer. He was never hooked up to a machine for three grueling hours, twice a week. Though he had treated and walked with many patients before, he never suffered the awful symptoms himself – fatigue, hair loss, nausea, constant pins and needles, outrageous medical bills… What did he know?!

But to my surprise, after a few weeks into her treatment, my mom came to affirm the doctor’s words. Oh, to be sure, the journey was not pleasant. For a year, she endured a lot of pain and discomfort. Chemo permanently altered her body and her life. Those days were full of so much suffering, so much grief, and so, so many tears. Even still, getting used to the therapy – the routine, the sensations, the adjustments – made it all a little more bearable for my mom. Unburdened by her imagined fears of the unknown – some of which materialized and others that did not – she eventually felt free to focus on the real hope of healing. I believe that it was this change in perspective gave her the strength to keep fighting through the pain, until eventually that same doctor gave us the wonderful news that my mom’s cancer was in remission.

There is a cancer in the Body of Christ. The sins of white supremacy and racial inequality have metastasized to the point that the life of the Presbyterian Church is in grave jeopardy. We have long been aware of the diagnosis, and the treatment options before us appear incredibly daunting. The only treatment for this systemic disease is a wholesale reconsideration and reorientation of everything that makes us who we are. There is a long, hard road ahead of us, and the extent of our illness means that the cure will inevitably touch our hearts, our bodies, and even our budgets. The work of repair is inherently uncomfortable and costly. It will involve some pain and produce many tears.

And yet, I believe that the worst side effect is simply not knowing what to expect. When faced with the unknown, our imagined fears can make the road seem impossible. But when we take the first steps toward healing, as painful as they might be, each subsequent step becomes more familiar. While we should not delude ourselves into thinking it will ever be “easy,” we can find encouragement in the prospect that the process can be manageable. Healing is possible insofar as we step out in faith, which always requires us to relegate our fears.