Finding my Sufficiency: Rejoicing in Christ in Light of Suffering
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“God had protected our family from any number of things”
One of my greatest joys in life is spending time with my family. I’ve not always recognized this but being one of a family of 12 is a unique privilege. Growing up with such a fantastic, loving, massive group of humans is a blessing that I don’t think I’ll ever wrap my head around. It isn’t easy to squeeze us all in my parents’ humble home in Raytown, MO, but over the years, as my family of 12 has grown to a family of 30, we’ve made due. There is a special comfort I find in being crammed in my parents’ living room, which has never had adequate seating to accommodate the number of humans that occupy it. But what lacks in space is made up for with the plethora of laughter and camaraderie we all feel when my siblings and I gather with our children and spouses under the roof we’ve all called home. Many would enter that scene and be overwhelmed by the collision of loud banter and crying babies, but if you grew up in the Powers family, this is simply the familiar rhythm you fall into when walking through my parents’ front door.
It was not an easy thing to raise and homeschool ten kids and hats off to my parents for running a family business on top of that. But if my mom and dad were faithful in anything, it was instilling in us the knowledge of Christ’s love and the importance of cultivating a right relationship with him. This priceless investment coupled with the “overcrowded” proximity of our upbringing has forged strong bonds between us, and as time goes on, I’ve learned to cherish the uncommon connection we all share. However, it was on Sunday, June 9th last year, that we experienced something that knit us together in a much different way and would change the heartbeat of my family forever.
That morning I got a call from my dad informing me that my mom was in the hospital. After getting checked for what she assumed was a concussion, the scans came back revealing several malignant tumors in her brain. Within the hour, my siblings and I were crammed together in our normal fashion, this time not around my parents’ living room sharing stories and laughs, but around my mother's hospital bed in prayer and tears. All of these years, God had protected our family from any number of things that could have shattered the stability of our upbringing. Growing up in a God-fearing home with two loving parents who had never had any health issues impacted this situation and created a level of fear and uncertainty none of us had ever felt.
“...we might be spending our last months with the person who gave birth to and raised us”
That first week was a whirlwind of bad, worse, and more confusing news than the last. As the professionals on the cancer floor evaluated the data from my mother’s scans, they were continually updating us on their most recent analysis, the implications their findings could have on her health, and of course, the statistical odds of her survival. By the end of the week, we learned that the tumors in her brain were metastasized spots that had spread from her lungs and had also advanced to her ribs and liver. Being diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer isn’t news anyone wants to hear, but despite having no history of smoking, long-term exposure to harsh chemicals or any other health issues her entire life, we now faced the fact that we might be spending our last months with the person who gave birth to and raised us. Along with my father, she was not only the hands and heart that formed my character but the first and most faithful to minister the saving knowledge of the gospel to my heart. The devastation of what it would mean to lose her now was unbearable.
The following weeks were filled with updates on her health and options for treatment moving forward. We had a lot of questions about what the next several months would look like, but we were still waiting on a specific diagnosis before an official game-plan could come into play. The main questions I found myself asking, however, were ones the doctors couldn’t answer: “Lord, why? Why would you let this happen? How can you expect me to trust you with this?”
Three weeks later, I woke up on a Monday to another call, this time about the youngest member of my family: my brother’s sweet daughter, Eden. She was taken to the hospital after bouts of incessant vomiting, the assumption being that she was dehydrated. The nurse took one look at her, grabbed her tiny body, and rushed her to get an emergency MRI. This revealed a baseball-sized, cancerous tumor in her frontal lobe that needed to be removed immediately; otherwise, she would die.
I arrived at the hospital several hours into her surgery, stumbling into a scene that at this point was all-to-familiar: my sweet family, crammed together in a hospital waiting room, dumbfounded that we faced the same horrifying circumstance we had just been thrown into with my mother, but this time with my one-year-old niece. I will not try to express the amount of fear and desperation my brother and sister-in-law felt as they sat and waited for surgery to be over, contemplating losing their daughter forever. Imagining my son in this position was unthinkable. It all felt like a long, surreal dream, and again, a series of questions burned in my mind: “Lord, how can you expect us to trust you with this? What could you possibly be trying to accomplish here?”
“Nothing seemed to matter but the pain my family and I were going through”
I have spent much of my Christian walk doing my best to escape suffering and pain, simply because I was too afraid to endure them. The thought of embracing trial felt so foreign, even after seasons of hardship when I visibly saw the hand of God use pain and loss for my good. I had never understood the frailty of life until these two souls were hanging in the balance. The level of fear and helplessness I felt was unbearable and confusing. My most natural impulse every day was to slip into a place of despair as I waited to hear news of their fate. Nothing seemed to matter but the pain my family and I were going through, to the point where I resented other people’s issues and complaints. From my perspective, there was no other trial that needed such attention and prayer. I craved for others to feel the same desperation I did and to sit with me in that anguish.
As only he could, God met me in that pain. Slowly but surely, he worked on my heart, and rather than give me hope for a different outcome, I resolved to trust him no matter what would happen. As foreign as this level of suffering felt to me, he made it clear that the sorrow I felt was meant to be embraced, not escaped. He reminded me that in Matthew 26 Christ himself had to confront this same obstacle. He, too, had a cup of suffering being handed to him. He didn’t want it and asked for it to be taken away. But in the end, he recognized that the greatest blessing was to be gained in conforming himself to God’s will, despite the extraordinary pain he would have to endure (Matt 26:42).
One year later, I can say for certain that the same God who performed the miracle of Christ’s resurrection worked a miracle in the lives of my mother and niece. Last summer, they both were essentially given death sentences, and we were preparing ourselves to spend our last days with them. Today, against all odds, that couldn’t be farther from the truth, and we now have more reason to rejoice than ever. By God’s grace, not only did Eden’s surgery go perfectly, but she responded amazingly well to treatment, is currently months ahead in her cognitive development, and is at home and well. My mom is in the fortunate 5% of lung cancer patients eligible for a treatment that is extremely effective, non-invasive, and also has very mild side effects. In terms of finances, God provided 100% in each case. Both my mom and niece are doing better than any physician on earth could have hoped, and that is all due to the hands of the Great Physician who has guarded their lives with his mercy.
“He alone is my sufficiency”
It was hard to see what God was doing at the time, as it always is. Looking back, it is obvious to me where and how his hands were working. However, even amid all the answered prayer and victory, there is a piece of that sorrow that remains. Even with all of the progress they’ve made, no one has the power to keep my mom or nieces’ life intact except for the One who created them, cancer or no cancer. The gravity of what my family has gone through this year is still very much present in our hearts, and I don’t expect that pain to subside any time soon. It is difficult to reflect on this past year without shedding tears, but I’m growing to value and lean into that sorrow. There is no other place that I feel so much desire and desperation for my God. He alone is my sufficiency, and I would not trade the suffering in my life for anything else, because what it has produced is priceless: a deeper and more intimate walk with Christ.
Havilah Guenther is a discipler and small group leader in Midtown Baptist Temple’s College and Young Adults ministry. She is on the service coordination team and is a member of Temple Worship.