“This cancer makes me feel human and vulnerable.
I’m a mere human being who fears death.” In Korean-
accented English, Hannah Nai expressed a similar
sentiment to Paul Kalanithi in his book When Breath
Becomes Air: Coming face to face with your own
mortality, changes both nothing and everything.
Before she was diagnosed with breast cancer, she
knew that someday she would die. She just didn’t know
when. After the diagnosis, she knew that someday, she
would die. But now she knew it acutely. Cancer had
pushed the eternal perspective to the forefront of her
mind, but it didn’t always eliminate the tangible fear
of death.
and grace is with me everyday, at every moment, and
that’s an absolute wonder.”
The illness scripted Hannah into an almost
predetermined process – scans, chemo, radiation,
remission, and a possible relapse. But in the midst
of uncontrollable outcomes, and the questions that
ensued, “Is God teaching me something? Did I do
something wrong?” Hannah made the choice to trust
the Lord. “This trust isn’t based on how much I know
about myself or the situation. It’s dependent on the
maturity of my relationship with Him – knowing that
He is a good and omniscient God. My usually calm and
composed disposition caved in to angst and anxiety.
But in that place, I experience His responses to me –
His graciousness as He covers me, His generosity as
He loves me, and His patience as He waits. This has
allowed me to see a greater dimension of God and
the depth of His love for me. He’s my security.”
Together with her Singaporean husband, Edmund
Nai, Hannah had plans to sojourn to the YWAM base
in Worcester, South Africa. With the full intention of
experiencing another culture, they were also looking
forward to a break from ministry in YWAM Singapore.
But the unfavourable outcome of a medical check-up
derailed their endeavours. Confronted by a diagnosis
that constricts the reality of how long have I got left
into a tight windpipe that barely allows you to breathe,
Hannah found an underlying honesty that is simple:
The lessons cloaked in fear are the invaluable ones,
and cancer had taught Hannah more about life and
herself, than it did about death. “My brokenness
became apparent. I had been heavily involved in
ministry and it was my desire to serve God whole-
heartedly. But instead of leaning in and relying on Him,
the emphasis was on my own strength. Unknowingly, I
had used my ministry as a platform to prove my worth.
I thought I was serving God, but I was actually serving
myself. The realisation broke me, and I cried. I was so
conscious about what others thought of me, but how
God sees me is far more precious than the eyes of
any man. This journey is really a lesson in humility and
trusting completely in the Lord.”
LIFE IS NOT ABOUT AVOIDING
SUFFERING BUT CREATING MEANING.
And inevitably, the question that distils life’s meaning
arises: What matters most to me?
Edmund, without a doubt, is her favourite person, and
you can safely assume that she’s never felt as close
to another human being as she did with him during
her struggle. Only in his presence could her tears
and unpredictable emotions freely flow, and it was
the dreadful possibility of leaving him behind that
gnawed at her stomach. But aside from who (on earth)
matters most, it was her personal growth, God and
her relationship with Him that were of unwavering
importance.
As Hannah battled through the story lines of hope
and disappointments, endurance and faith, she
came out intact – she even got to keep her breasts.
Her doctors had prepared her for the possibility that
post-tumour-removal surgery, she might lose her left
nipple, and be confronted with a sunken right breast.
But she gleefully shared, “When I woke, I was ecstatic
to discover that I wasn’t only alive, but my breasts were
whole. God had considered every detail of my desires,
even when it was least expected and not expressly
asked for.” Her Father’s unfailing provision always
extended beyond her mere needs, and met her heart’s
desires, warranting the belief that she could completely
entrust herself into His faithful embrace.
She shared, “Pain and suffering in itself is very
negative. But when we experience pain, it means that
we’re still alive. That’s good… My understanding of a
miracle used to be limited to ‘instantaneous healing’
but now, every breath I take is a miracle. At any
moment, my existence may be a breath away from
being my last, but God has exercised mercy. His mercy
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