I guess, it was only when I couldn’t hold back my tears that day that I realized how greatly I was affected by this. Before then, I was calm and rational and at peace. “It’s going to be okay,” I reasoned. “You’re going to be okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of, everything will be okay.”
I was so calm it was almost unnatural for me to be so.
But what was there that I could do besides trust God for the best? From the beginning, I knew this would come between us, that someday somehow, this would make itself an issue and we would either win, or lose.
They said your liver wasn’t all right because of the elevated liver markers from your blood tests, and we both expected the worst. Even though we hoped for the best. Could it be cirrhosis, a tragic and fatal hardening of the liver which greatly shortens one lifespan? Was it rejection of the transplant? Could it be an insidious lesion of some sort, peeking it’s sneering leering head at us? The C-word was always at the back of our heads.
Why God, why? I would ask. You’re unfair, aren’t you? But I had no right to question or challenge Him. The fact of the matter is, I should be glad He’s unfair. Because if He was fair, then you should have died twenty years ago with that cancer inside of you; you should’ve perhaps lived for another 5 or 10 years at maximum like all the other transplant survivors who were recorded in research papers and case studies etc.
The reason why you’re alive is because He’s not fair but just; He’s not fair but gracious; He’s not fair but amazingly sovereign with a plan none of us could fathom.
So I’m glad He’s not fair.
But why now God? Why now? I asked.
Our hearts had been heavy for a long time. After all, I had already known this since the days of my final exams. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, since that fateful day we met. After we parted and you left for Canada, God had opened a way for you to return here to work as a missionary. It was as if things were meant to be. You always joked how God answers prayers, and we should be careful of what we pray for.
Then, this happened, and everything was, in your words, “up in the air”. If your health wasn’t cleared, there was no way the missions agency was going to accept you here. So when the time came you said there was something wrong, that the doctors wanted to do a ultrasound and a biopsy, I almost felt relieved that this waiting hell was over. Finally, we would know.
A biopsy. It’s the gold standard test for finding out what really is wrong with one’s liver. It involves putting a needle through one’s skin into one’s liver to extract a piece of tissue for lab tests, to determine the nature of the liver, the degree of damage. An ultrasound helps one to visualize any cancer spots or abnormal growths.
For some reason, I was calm about it. I had a strange peace, that even in the midst of the storm, you’d be okay. Somehow, we’d be okay and things would work itself out.
But your liver enzymes were going up and no one knew what was happening. It first happened last year, just before your trip to Cambodia and to see me; the second time was the day before my final exams; and the third was this time, when you were already in the midst of selling and giving up your life there to be here.
Last Thursday was your biopsy and I said everything was going to be all right. All this while after I returned from Africa, I said everything was going to be all right. I wasn’t scared, and that you needn’t be too. I had a vision, I had a dream, I had bible verses… none of which I told you about but which I was sure of.
Things would be okay.
There was time. Things were happening slowly. Your medical appointments were being scheduled and you were going about life and your service to your community faithfully.
Then that day came. Your biopsy was done.
And suddenly, I came undone because I realized that there was nothing between us and the truth anymore. It was just pure waiting time.
Why are you so unfair, God? Why does this have to happen? Are you not hearing our prayers? Why are you so unfair?
Then I remembered a book I had read last week, about God being unfair but just, because He stands for justice. If He were fair, truly fair, many of us would deserve punishment and repercussions for our foibles and failings. If He were truly fair in judgement, I should be gone by now. You should be gone by now. But He’s not fair.
He is gracious. And that is why I still have life today, and a hope for the future. This is why you are still here, even though you “should” have died 20 years ago when you were 10. This is why we met, even though we really shouldn’t have.
This is why it’s a beautiful relief, that God isn’t fair, but He is just.
We were both in the same boat, trying to fix our eyes on hope and trust and faith, and yet, suffering from paroxysmal bouts of anxiety and just, plain fear.
After the tears, I read a message a friend had sent me. “Everything is in God’s hands. Look for the rainbow which comes after the rain.”
Rainbows. We were standing under one that day, did you know? I didn’t tell you but we were. I didn’t tell you because my heart was still hardened at the time.
Shortly after I returned from Africa and shared with a friend about our predicament, he shared a revelation he had with me. “Wai Jia, are you kai xin?”
In Mandarin, kai xin means happy. Literally, it means ‘open heart’.
Why does that matter, I asked. “It means everything,” he replied.
“Did you know that in mandarin, the word ‘happy’ is represented by a chinese symbol that represents the meaning‘open’? One day, God revealed to me that very often, our prayers aren’t answered because like a pair of hands clenched in prayer, we’re so busy praying and asking that our hearts are no longer ‘open’ and hence, no longer ‘kai xin’.”
He clenched his hands tightly together to illustrate his point. 
“But look what happens when one opens one’s heart to pray…
… then one becomes poised… to receive God’s blessings.”
It was then that it struck me, that it was so important to carry joy within us, even as we earnestly pray. If I wanted my prayers heard, then I would have to open my heart to you, instead of keeping it closed, too.
So I did. I prayed. My friends prayed. And we were determined to praise God and continue to love and trust Him even if the worst happened.
Nonetheless, even though we kept reassuring each other, I think we were both scared.
Yet we knew in our hearts, that only then, would we truly know if it was God’s will or not for us to be in the same picture. Because we couldn’t live further from each other. And there have been so many obstacles in between our two points. If your test results don’t bode well, you won’t be able to come.
And you and I will stand ten thousand miles apart, literally.
You see, in medicine, everything means something. High cardiac enzymes mean a heart attack; high white cell counts mean an infection- and ignoring any of these markers could spell trouble. Surely your high liver markers meant something.
The day before your results came out, I went for a slow jog outside. Unexpectedly, it started to pour and runners and cyclists everywhere scurried for shelter. It was pouring so hard that I was the only one running home. I didn’t try to duck the pelting rain as it drenched me, through and through. Somehow, triathlon had taught me, us, that there is a purpose in affliction, and there is hope even in darkness. But in the storm, it can really seem like there is no way out, as if there is no possibility to be kai xin.
The day after your biopsy, I was so distracted.
Then, your results came out.
They were clear.
No cancer. No cirrhosis. Just a clean, bewildering panel of results.
I learnt, that whatever God started, He would bring to completion. I learnt, that everything in medicine and science can make complete sense, but faith, hope and love are the trump cards that cannot be explained. I learnt, that I cannot see the future with my bare eyes, but like a man whose confidence in God is so wild he acts like he has never been defeated, we can choose to close our eyes and walk right off the cliff with the assurance that we would fly instead of fall, and He will show us, that with a heart open to Him and filled with joy, He will not disappoint.
It was a friend who texted me to encourage me the day before, “Everything is in God’s hands. Look for the rainbow which comes after the rain.”
I’m looking. I’m looking with my heart and my palms wide open. Do you see the rainbow, too?
what a beautiful post!