One of the scariest things in the early days of my diagnosis is that the pathology was unclear. Best case scenario, the cancer was contained. Worst case scenario, it had spread beyond what they could imagine. This fear was heightened by the fact that all the normal tests that catch cervical cancer failed to detect mine. I was diagnosed long after they usually diagnose women. And that terrified every medical professional I saw.
My doctor said that cancer doesn’t play by the rules. What she meant is that cancer might say one thing on a pathology report, but sometimes it hides. Sometimes it stays dormant, waiting for the right moment to wreak havoc on the healthy cells that are left. Even one tiny undetectable cancer cell can spread so pervasively that it leaves no hope of survival. You have to get it all. No margin. No error. It doesn’t play by the rules because it has one mission—to kill. So when they couldn’t get clarity from the pathology report, they (and we) were understandably freaked out.
As I’ve spent the last eleven months reflecting on my diagnosis, I’ve been struck by how sin is so much like cancer. Sin doesn’t play by the rules either. Sin hides, lurking behind our excuses and complacency. Sin spreads like wildfire, like cancer, if you leave any small part of it. This is why Jesus says “cut it off” (Matt. 5:29). Leave any amount of sin behind and you’re in trouble. It will multiply faster than you can root it out. And the next thing you know, you’re headlong into rebellion—destroyed by the cancer of your own desires.
Sin, like cancer, has one mission—leave no survivors. It feeds on leftover tissue that assumes it is harmless. It grows when we let our guard down. It wants to take over every healthy part of us until what’s left is a shell of a person. Like cancer, sin leaves us utterly recognizable to those who love us.
Fighting sin, like fighting cancer, takes a radical approach. Pieces of you have to be removed. You will be destroyed in order to be rebuilt—healthy and whole. It will hurt for a time, but will lead to abundant life.
When we fail to see the threat, we’re most vulnerable. If we fail to fight to the final removal, we will pay the price later. But I wonder if we fail to fight sin like we fight cancer because we don’t always see what it can do to us. If we truly saw the end result of our sin, wouldn’t we fight with everything in us? Wouldn’t we take such radical steps towards healing?
Cancer doesn’t play by the rules, but neither does sin. We miss that to our peril, but when we see it and take steps to destroy it, we are on the path towards life.