The Victory Of The Cross
Nearly two years into this second cancer journey, I am thrilled to say that the end is now in sight. Just over two weeks ago, I went into the operating theatre for my second mastectomy and recovering remarkably well.
Last time I went through this process I nearly died as the result of rare internal haemorrhage but this time the surgery and the recovery has been gloriously uneventful. Praise the Lord. And this week, I received a call from my surgeon to say that the histology show that there were no remaining cancer cells. God has ‘reached down from high and taken hold of me; he drew me out from deep water. . . He brought me out into a spacious place’ (Ps. 18:16-24). Hallelujah.
I cannot stop thanking the Lord and the staff who cared for me. Both my oncologist and surgeon have been at pains to point out that they cannot guarantee that the cancer will never return but this cannot detract from the joy that wells up in my heart when I wake each morning. I feel as if I have once gain been given a new lease of life.
People often talk about battling against cancer but, on this journey, I was laid low so many times by the treatments that the fight was beaten out of me. Instead, I felt that God was asking me to pray like Charles de Foucald, ‘Father, I abandon myself in to your hands; do with me what you will. Whatever you may do, I thank you. I am ready for all; I accept all.’ And to trust in the knowledge that while we may be weak, that any battle we may face has already been won by Christ on the cross.
I have long been fascinated by Celtic Christianity and for these early Christians the cross was seen to hold immense power and was a symbol of Christ’s victory over evil; Christus Victus, who ‘having disarmed the powers and authorities . . . made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross’ (Col. 2:15). In the tradition of the ancient hero sagas, Christ was seen by the Celts as the ultimate conquering warrior or Dryhtnes and the cross is imagined as the scene of the ultimate battle. As such, the image of the cross itself, was seen as having power over evil and was often invoked in prayer as a weapon to be used in spiritual warfare and for protection.
Now I don’t believe that cancer is the work of the devil, but I do believe that evil exists and can invade our thoughts, undermining our relationship with God who is good, replacing faith with fear. For that reason, the cross has been a constant companion for me on this journey, in my heart . . . and in my hand.
As I went through scans, chemotherapy, radiotherapy and nerve-racking results meetings, I have held on to the small wooden cross pictured above. This Bethlehem olive wood cross was given to me nine years ago at the beginning of my first cancer journey and has absorbed so much radiation that I am surprised it doesn’t glow green in the dark. The feel of this cross in my hand has been the last thing I was conscious of as I went under the anaesthetic for surgery and the first thing I asked for when I awoke in the recovery room.
It's the cross that has helped to drive out fear, and sustained me as I passed through the valley of the shadow of death, and I know that even if this journey had ended differently, this in itself would still have been a great victory.
By the grace of God, however, I have survived, and as I move forward I will always try to remember that my life is not something that I have battled from the jaws of death, but a gift to be lived out in the recognition of the victory of the cross.
Kate Nicholas is a preacher, Christian author, broadcaster and consultant. Her best-selling memoir Sea Changed is an account of her unconventional journey of faith and previous healing from advanced cancer.
Her latest book is Soul’s Scribe – a guide to understanding and sharing your soul story.
Subscribe to Kate’s blog Faith Life and Cancer to follow her healing journey