There's a box on my piano.
It's an old, wooden cheese box.
(Appropriate decor for someone who lives in the dairy state, right?)
It's old.
The cracks on the top have separated over the years, and the wood has splintered off in places.
I don't know how a person used it back in the day.
I don't know who made it or where it came from.
(I don't even remember where I bought it!)
It's a mystery to me.
It's symbolic really, this "mystery box", 'cause it's where I put all the mysteries in my life:
the tough questions,
the unfulfilled longings,
the inexplicable tragedies,
the gnawings that threaten to derail my faith,
and the baffling "out-of-the-blue" "where'd that come from" gifts God has lavished on my life (you know, the one's that leave you saying, "But I don't deserve this!")
Today, I added these words to my mystery box:
I Have Cancer. And God Is Good.
They are not my words.
These words are the title of a blog entry I read last Thursday.
They are mysterious words (beyond my understanding).
They are sobering words,
But they are true words (every one of them).
These seven little words speak volumes.
They speak candidness.
They speak determination.
They speak experience.
They speak courage.
They speak trust.
They speak of the absolute lavishing kind of love God pours out on us in the worst of circumstances.
They are the words of my friend Sara who just found out she has lung cancer.
Please, go read her words.
They are vulnerable.
Thay are raw.
And they are drenched in His goodness!
You can read Sara's story here and you can go here to follow as all her drippings of grace spill over onto us.
And please, if you've experienced God's goodness in your life, join me in praying that Sara and her family will know it in every moment of this battle.
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