When I began radiation treatment for my cancer, I discovered what it was like to walk through the valley of the shadow of death. As I spent weeks without eating solid food, I began to realize that the physical and emotional trauma coming my way could only be met by taking the hand of the Lord and walking with Him. Even so, being led through the valley of the shadow is frightening. Its uncertainties keep you alert to every changing scenario. I began to cling to every nuance of the doctors' words, shrugs, and grimaces; I experienced the full range of emotions that go with a life-threatening illness. I wept as I saw my utter need to depend on God. The fear of the unknown often gripped me.
A Cancer Survivor

Nothing can cause us to lose heart more quickly than fear. It can render the strongest heart faint and the most courageous soul cowardly. In one devastating swoop it can take away your breath, your peace, and even your hope.

At one time or another, fear stalks every human heart. Its icy fingers touch us all, old or young, rich or poor, black or white, clergy or layperson. It is the first emotion most of us remember. And those who battle cancer rarely escape a chilling encounter with this powerful enemy.

The waves of fear faced by those who battle cancer can be overwhelming, sometimes even debilitating. I know those fears all too well from my own experience with cancer. I have felt the fears that came with my diagnosis of cancer-the fear of uncertainty about what my life would be like after cancer, the fear of painful treatments, the fear of losing my arm. And I discovered that nothing strikes fear into our hearts more than the possibility of death. I couldn't bear the thought of having to leave behind my kids, my wife, my life.

But life goes on despite our fears. So when we feel fear's clammy grip, what can we do? How can we prevent it from causing us to lose heart? The first thing is to face our fears-whatever they might be. A small example from my early baseball career illustrates what I mean.

When I was first called up to the big leagues, my first eight to ten days as a San Diego Padre were a nightmare. I struggled so badly that management was toying with sending me back to Triple-A ball. We were in Los Angeles preparing to play the Dodgers, and Jan came up with our daughter, Tiffany, to stay with me at the hotel. After the first game of that series I returned to our room, obviously upset. But when Jan asked me what was wrong, I replied, "Nothing. I'm fine." Of course, deep down inside I was scared to death. Finally I blurted out, "Jan, I'm scared. I'm afraid. Everyone who comes to the plate is like Babe Ruth. I don't know whether I can pitch at this level."

With that, the dam was broken. By facing my fears and openly admitting them, I was freed to move forward as a baseball player to go out and pitch to the best of my ability. And the worst that could happen? We'd return to Triple-A ball in Hawaii, where all our friends were. Strengthened by that new outlook, I took the mound with confidence and went on to a satisfying major league career.

"But that's just baseball," you might rightly be saying. "What about the biggest fear of all - the fear of death?" I discovered that the same process works there, too. I had to face my fear of dying, admit it, and go from there. And the worst that could happen? I'd take up residence in heaven, where my Savior Jesus is.
Don't get the wrong idea, however. While that conviction finally won out over my fears, it did so only after a long and intense battle. Through that battle I discovered the truth of something C.S. Lewis wrote in A Grief Observed: "You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you." For me, the ultimate question was, did I really believe God's promises? Did I really believe God when he said,

. . . Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name;
you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am the LORD, your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior . . .
"Isaiah 43:1-3

Only after a prolonged and grueling struggle did I at last realize that I really did believe these words. No matter how things turned out, I had the assurance of going to heaven. In that way, my fear of death actually led me into a deeper place with God and I felt His embrace as never before.

If you are fighting that same long, grueling struggle with fear, my heart goes out to you.  At the Outreach of Hope, we hear your painful cires every day.  We know that riding the emotional roller coaster of a serious illness is tough, especially when fear has a stronghold on your heart.  But as an experienced rider on that roller coaster, I can share with you what I learned about God on that ride. It's my personal commentary on Isaiah 43: "Fear not, for I am with you. When your emotions take you on a wild ride, I know it is hard to feel My presence.  But I'm sitting next to you, and I never leave."