I can’t imagine more polar emotions than the ones you experience while waiting to find out if you’re going to die. On one hand, you really, really don’t want to die. Your entire being strains against the thought, like when you’re underwater trying to come up for air and you keep bumping your head against a floating dock. Where’s the surface? Bump. Where’s the surface? Bump. WHERE’S THE SURFACE?

But as much as you hate the idea of death, you find yourself feeling better than usual about your outlook on life. Suddenly the things that matter little do indeed matter little—and the things that matter most do indeed matter most.

Later this morning I’m going in for “further testing.” It’s probably nothing, I was told at my last visit. And this reassures me; until I realize that “probably nothing” really doesn’t mean anything if it turns out to be something.

So until I hear someone say, “It’s benign,” it’s very difficult for me to reenter that place where my mind is calm. I haven’t been myself the past few days; it’s hard to act natural around the girls when I haven’t told them how worried I am. Honestly, the one thing I cannot handle is the thought of sitting in the living room with Cindy this evening and telling the girls that Daddy has cancer. I simply cannot handle that right now. If it comes to that, Jesus Christ is going to have to handle it for me. Seeing my children hurting is at the very top of the things I hate.

Ha! I’m reminded of a list the girls once playfully made about the places they especially hated going. It went like this:

1. Home Depot/Lowe’s: where they have to stand in a very boring aisle of very boring materials
2. The Men’s Wearhouse: where they have to stand among very boring clothes and shoes
3. The oil change place: where they have to sit in a very boring waiting area with scattered newspapers and a TV that perpetually seems to play The People’s Court. We finally solved the problem by heading down the street to Salsarita’s Cantina for burritos, chips, and salsa. One of our favorite memories is running through a heavy rain from the oil change place to Salsarita’s laughing our heads off. Three years later, our youngest daughter, Summer, still talks about it.

I love these girls so much and want nothing more than to watch them grow up—alongside Cindy, the love of my life. That’s why my own list of things I would most hate goes like this:

1. Family members dying
2. Me dying

Yet, even as I reflect on this list, I realize how earth-centered it is. It’s all about life now. Is this really and truly what I ought to dread most—the loss of life on earth? I find my answer by realizing what God most dreads—not the loss of earthly life but the loss of eternal life. The things God most hates are:

1. Anyone losing eternal life
2. His Son dying

If I’m really a believer, then my list should at least go like this, shouldn’t it?

1. Family members losing eternal life
2. Me losing eternal life
3. Anyone else losing eternal life
4. Family members dying
5. Me dying

Even with its lingering selfishness, this list still isn’t easy for me to digest. My flesh screams out against it. Though I may believe (and even teach) that one person’s earthly death can result in another’s eternal life, I don’t want to be that person. Not now—with my girls so young. I don’t want to sit down in the living room tonight. Again, if it comes to that, Jesus Christ is going to have to handle it for me.

“He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness’ ” (2 Cor. 12:9).

Postscript: It was benign.