By Michele Cushatt
What do I have in common with a divorced, single mother who remarried, discovered she had cancer, and then decided after their own children were raise to start over again by fostering three little ones?
By the events that happened in her life - nothing.
But the God she serves in her life? I do too. And her struggles with faith are my struggles too. I broke into tears many times in the first two chapters of this book but the words that hit the hardest to home, that stuck with me and I reread and reread are these:
"But what if? What if I'm not okay? What if the worst-case scenario happens?"
Last time I'd checked, Troy wasn't God. He couldn't make promises about life and death. He couldn't control the outcomes. I slung a little snark and waited to see what he'd do with it.
Then, sitting together on our bed, he spoke the words that finally broke fear's chokehold on me: "If you really believe what you say you believe, Michele, then it's only going to get better for you from here."
Whoa. I didn't expect that.
I didn't expect to be reminded of the faith I'd claimed since childhood. To be challenged to either believe it and live it, or let it go.
If I really believe....
Did I believe what I claimed? For years I'd professed a solid and sure faith, to my husband and children, neighbors and friends, and in the venues and on platforms in front of hundreds of strangers. I talked about God as if he were real and powerful and interested in his children. And I talked about heaven as my ultimate vacation destination. But somehow I'd let cancer turn God into Santa Claus, a childish fantasy and a work of fiction. I still believed in him. I just didn't believe him. I didn't count on him to be the powerful, rescuing, interested God in the middle of my crisis. Mine was a belief that looked good on paper, but didn't work itself out in reality.