The Voice in the Chaos
One of the more interesting moments in scripture for me is Genesis chapter 1. While many would like to argue about the time God needed to create the world, others want to argue creation vs. evolution. To me, the most interesting aspect is found in verses 6-7 when God separates the vault between the waters. The Hebrew word for water in this verse is mayim. It is a word that many believe is derived from mem or chaos.
If this is true, then God is speaking into the chaos of the moment. In those early days of creation there was no order. There is only chaos, and the chaos is swirling. All sense of order, structure, and understanding seems to be lost in the chaos of the moment. It is a time when life doesn’t exist. Life has yet to take shape or form.
If you’ve ever lived with a serious physical struggle (cancer or a stroke) or even a significant life issue (loss of a job or divorce), then you know that in those moments the chaos is swirling. While the world seemed to stop when the word cancer was pronounced over my life, there was chaos with all sorts of questions, concerns, and anxieties that started to swirl in my mind.
For instance…
1) How will we pay for this?
2) How serious is this diagnosis?
3) Is the long-term outlook good?
4) If I don’t survive this, will Katie and the boys be ok?
5) How sick am I going to be?
6) Can I keep doing my job?
Those were just a few of the questions that I started to ask myself amid the chaos. I’m sure Katie had a whole host of different questions. No doubt, both of us were a little stressed out and concerned. Yet, what I needed was a well-spoken, well-timed word to bring clarity to the chaos of the moment. I received both of those within days of the diagnosis.
The first came from the oncologist in our first appointment when he assured us both that the long-term prognosis was good. Yes, it was stage 3, but my overall physical shape and health were strong enough that I could fight and win this battle.
The second words of wisdom came from my father-in-law (Dr. Paul, my primary care physician). Just days after my first appointment with the oncologist, Dr. Paul said, “Don’t worry about your body. We will take care of you physically. Focus on your mind. If you don’t take care of your mind, you won’t be the same person walking out of cancer that you were walking in.”
Those two statements brought a calm and reassuring certainty to the chaos of the moment. I would be ok. I would survive, and I could make it through this journey stronger and in the best condition possible.
I just had to control my mind and make a conscious decision to give my best in every situation. I could and would trust the people surrounding me, and I would lean into choosing the best habits for the journey. I could rest in the certainty that the chaos of the moment did not have to overwhelm my family or me. I could be my best, and I would choose the best!