Last year around this time (maybe a few weeks before this time, but the Spring-Resurrection-Easter season) I was finishing up my last couple of cycles of pre-surgery chemo (6 and 7). I was doing a cycle in the chemo-clinic, and we (us cancer-patients) were seated in stations or pods made up of two chairs each. That particular cycle of chemo I was seated next to another lucky cancer patient, we started engaging in the normal banter; “what are you in for . . . how about you? etc.” Through our discussion I found out that his name was Jay, Jay was in his early fifties, he was surrounded by his wife and three beautiful daughters (all probably college age, 20′s). I asked Jay what kind of cancer he had, and what his prognosis was. Jay had just recently been diagnosed with lung cancer, he wasn’t a smoker, he just “happened” to come down with lung cancer; and it was metatastic (he had tumors in his lungs, his liver, and somewhere else). As he told me that he was terminal, I looked over at his daughters, and they were all trying to hold back their tears; trying to keep encouraging/strong smiles on their faces for their dad (I almost started to cry when I saw his daughters starting to cry). Jay had resigned himself to the fact that he was going to die from this grotesque disease; they were just doing the chemo to extend his life (which to be honest, chemo is a terrible way to extend your life . . . I had seen Jay’s reactions to the chemo previous to the chemo he was receiving during our discussion, and he had seizures, often, from the chemo). The thing that came out through our discussion that was the most encouraging (because usually this was not the case with so many others I talked to in the chemo-clinic), was to find out that Jay and his family were believers in Jesus; they were born again, on fire Christians. As we continued to talk I had the chance to tell him about my cancer, and that by God’s grace my cancer was still self-contained; Jay praised the Lord with me and my wife when he found out my prognosis was still potentially good. Our discussion turned to our testimonies, and how we got saved. We then went on to talk about Easter, since that was the next holiday that we were approaching at that point, I remember Jay saying (through his teary eyes) that “resurrection day should be our favorite holiday now!”; his daughters really started to cry at that point! He said that this most likely was going to be his last Easter that he would celebrate on this earth, and that by next Easter he would most likely be celebrating it in the presence of the Lord. What really struck me about what he was saying, was that he was using the first person plural; referring to himself and me, that really hit home with me at that moment!

I don’t know what happened with Jay, I never saw him again after that (I had surgery a few weeks later); statistically his words to me then were prophetic, and he is in the presence of the Lord this Easter, celebrating the resurrection with sight, not faith. What a profound thing! I will never forget Jay around Easter times, most likely for the rest of my life. He was so right, the resurrection should be our favorite holiday; whether we have cancer or not, the resurrection is our hope! Without the resurrection as Paul said: “we are of all men the most to be pitied!”