Cancer and comfort.

Right now it feels like everyone has cancer. It's hard to minister to people--or it's hard to know how best to minister to them. 
As a christian, I don't know how to console my non-believing friends. I don't feel comfortable telling them things will be ok because in my heart I know that death that awaits them, or their parents, or their friends will not bring and end to their suffering but suffering beyond compare. I can't tell them that God is sovereign and that God is good because they either don't believe in God or they will not understand how a god who kills their parent or friend or brother or sister is good and loving. 
Cancer has become so common that we toss the word around like it's no big deal. We use it in our household vernacular along with chemotherapy, chemo, radiation, bone marrow transplant, etc. Maybe we are shocked at first, but cancer has been relegated to something small like a cold. Chemo, radiation, and all these other procedures are the equivalent to taking some vitamins or something. Ugh. I want to shake people. Cancer is no small thing. It is an evil monster. It can cause an organ to fail. It can spread to other places. It can eliminate your body's own defenses against cancer itself and other diseases. It is no small thing. So on top of the spiritual side of things, thanks to my UCI education, I don't know how to minister to these people as a future healthcare professional because I see the ailments and diseases these people are suffering from and I know that the prognosis is not good.
I feel helpless and every situation seems hopeless. But, it's because, "I don't believe in God, I believe in science." I have more trust and belief that science is right than I do in God being God. Not that God will necessarily heal these people, but that he is sovereign and he is good and he is God. My non-Christian friends might not be able to take comfort in that, but I can find ultimate comfort there.
On Wednesday, I visited one of my friends from jr. high, high school, and college at UCI Med. Center. He's there because a month ago he was diagnosed with leukemia. He's not a christian so I was trying to ask these probing questions to try and move the conversation toward more spiritual things (I failed...but that is for another time). I asked him something along the lines of how he's been holding up or something and he said, "Pretty good. I mean, I'm not dead." I forget how the conversation went after that...not the way I wanted it to that is for sure...I didn't get to share the gospel. But, while I was driving back I couldn't get over what he said. There he was all confined to a small hospital room for the past month, getting poked and prodded, having to put his dreams of med school on hold, being all immunocompromised, and he still could say it was better than death. What? If a pagan can say this how much more should I be able to?
Ministering to sick, broken, dying people is not easier because we toss God, his sovereignty or the gospel into the mix. It is emotionally and spiritually draining. My heart is still heavy and I am still sad. Emotions don't disappear when God comes on the scene. But there is great comfort in knowing that, "I'm not dead." Being physically alive means that God is not yet done with me. I still have "things to do, places to go, people to see." More than that, spiritually alive means the gospel applies to me. My sins are forgiven, not only am I saved from God's wrath but I am able to find ultimate comfort in him. That's the hope I can share with the dying world, the best way I can minister to my sad, cancer affected friends. I can care for their souls. More than an improbable hope for healing or cure, I can offer them a hope for salvation.


Rock of Ages, cleft for me
Let me hide myself in Thee


Truly my soul finds rest in God; my salvation comes from him. Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.-Psalm 62:1-2