"We're not on that step yet."

     I can still hear our neurosurgeon saying those words. They were words we come back to again and again (and he had to repeat them a few times). We were in the hospital, surgery was still 2-3 days away. But we were looking months and months ahead, trying to plan treatment, trying to decide whether or not to sell my car, trying to figure out what, if anything, I would be able to do this summer, trying to figure out whether or not I would be able to continue working for a few more months, asking what kind of life expectancy we were looking at. And again, the surgeon's wisdom reasserted - "We're not on that step yet. Those are steps 18, 19, and 20. We're still on step 2 right now." To which I wanted to ask, "On which step can we start freaking out?"
     You see, we were already freaking out. I'm sure there's an actual medical term for that low level panic in the face of a frightening future. The psychological term would perhaps be anxiety. The Biblical term is, quite simply, fear. We fear the future, we fear pain. We fear uncertainty. We fear evil. Evil is a general term sometimes, referring to unpleasant and bad things that don't belong in the perfect world as God designed it, not just the morally deficient, sinful things. Floods are evil. Cancer is evil. Traffic accidents are evil. When the Psalmist, in the valley of the shadow of death, says he will fear no evil (Psalm 23:4), he's not just confident in the power of God over sin, but also of the love of God that removes the fear (though not always the presence) of the things that threaten us.  We fear no evil because he is with us.
     We had a hundred and one questions with no answers. The impotency you feel in the face of a medical situation like that makes you want to start taking action in the realms of life that you are still able to control. We can't do anything about the tumor, but what can we do to feel like we're actually making progress? Can we do something about the evil we fear?
     The surgeon's point was - there are a lot of things we didn't know for sure at that time, including what type of tumor we were facing (a critical bit of information we STILL don't have, almost 4 weeks later). And after the surgery, we needed time to see how my body responded (very well, it turns out, an answer to many prayers) and how I healed (very quickly, thanks be to God) and whether or not I regained my lost functions (which I have, fully). And then once we could determine the type of tumor, we had to figure out where and how to treat (still working on that). And then we needed to see how my body responded to the treatment and whether or not the tumor would respond to the treatment.
     We were trying to make plans for steps 18-20 while we were still on step 2 - surgery. And thinking ahead to steps 18-20 was scary and overwhelming. But there was no wisdom in going there before we needed to.
     As I write this, it's one month after I checked into the ER.  We're a few steps further in the process now, but we still need to follow the same advice. Some days, April and I find ourselves jumping ahead and getting a little panicky over the choices still to be made and the unknown variables to be considered, and then we pause and remind ourselves - we're not on that step yet. "Sufficient for the [step] is its own trouble" (Matthew 6:34). After all, it is daily bread for which we are to pray, daily manna that is provided in the wilderness.
     This is where I am forced to confront my own lack of trust in the God who says, "I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me, declaring the end from the beginning and from ancient times things not yet done, saying, ‘My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish all my purpose’" (Isaiah 46:9-10). If I truly believe this about God, and if I truly believe he declares the end from the begining and that each of my days was written in his book before even one of them came to be (Psalm 139:16), then it doesn't matter which step I am on right now. He is here with me at step four. Step twelve will not surprise him. He will still be there at step seventeen. And he is there waiting for me at step twenty.
     Is there any point at which freaking out makes sense? Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death (a phrase that takes on much deeper meaning for me these days, for death casts a long shadow), I will not freak out, for God is with me. A God of matchless power, unsearchable wisdom, and boundless love is with me at every step. No, it's not time to freak out. Not while he is with me.