Chemotherapy Prayer Quotes

When we encounter hardship, if God doesn't answer our first prayer-and our first prayer is almost always, "God, please take away the pain"-then we can pray: "Okay then, Lord, please use the pain for your purposes. Put me into ministry with others who need to know your comfort." We can pray, "I wish I had a job, but use me this week in the unemployment line"; "I pray for a relief of my loneliness, but use me to reach out to refugees who may be far lonelier than I"; "I'm praying that you will heal this cancer, but if you don't, please use me this week at my chemotherapy treatment.."7

Our sizable group was scattered among three different tables, and because the restaurant was a bit noisy, the kids’ table didn’t hear Alan lead us in the blessing. So Miss Kay went over to their table and led Mia and her cousins in their own prayer, thanking God for the food and asking Him to watch over Mia the next morning. After she finished, she asked the girls if they wanted to add anything. Mia said that she did. They all bowed their heads while Mia prayed for Mrs. Cathy, a dear friend of ours who was recovering from a recent mastectomy and undergoing chemotherapy for stage two breast cancer. Miss Kay came over to me and Jase with tears in her eyes, recounting what Mia had prayed. “I just assumed she was going to pray for herself, but she prayed for Cathy instead.” When I told Miss Kay that we pray for Cathy each night at bedtime, Kay said, “Well, I guess Mia thought there was no reason that this night should be any different.” She also mentioned that she asked Mia if she was nervous about the next day. “Not really” was Mia’s response. “But what do you feel?” Miss Kay asked her. “Nothing. I just don’t feel anything, really.” I guess I would interpret her response simply as Mia being at peace.

Lots of people die from cancer. Where was their miracle? Did their Facebook friends not pray enough? Why did their chemotherapy not work? Because they didn’t post enough public prayer requests on social media? Why didn’t they get their miracle? Does God think less of their lives than those whose lives he spares?

Lots of people die from cancer. Where was their miracle? Did their Facebook friends not pray enough? Why did their chemotherapy not work? Because they didn’t post enough public prayer requests on social media? Why didn’t they get their miracle? Does God think less of their lives than those whose lives he spares? No. Sometimes cancer is cured… sometimes it isn’t.

Life Expectancy Neither one-second less nor more than that which God has written and fixed the time for death. I am suffering from stage 4 prostate cancer that has spread to the lymph nodes and bones since the medical mistake and even medical crime, as I had explained in that article.[1], [2]. Treatment of hormone therapy and radiotherapy as an expected outcome became ineffective for such level cancer; whereas, another option was the chemotherapy that I refuse since that has terrible and painful side effects than as cancer itself. Now alternative treatment is a Xitnadi tablet along with hormone therapy as Zoladex injection. My survival and life expectancy lies in prayers and God. In Germany and other western countries, modern and incredibly effective treatments stay in practice for longer life expectancy without terrible side effects. In the Netherlands, such technology, the health providers deliberately fail to provide; however, only rich and capable people can afford that. Therefore, I wait for the miracle; it is my source if it happens.

…Who through faith…whose weakness was turned to strength…. —Hebrews 11:33–34 (NIV) I probably shouldn’t have checked my computer one last time after a very tiring day. One click and I was staring in disbelief at an e-mail from our church prayer planning committee leader with more than one hundred prayer requests attached! The petitions had been gathered at our Ash Wednesday service, and no one thought about who was going to pray for them once they were placed on the altar. Although we weren’t an intercessory prayer group (we plan prayer events), our committee was elected! I was even more overwhelmed when I glanced at the list: chemotherapy, job losses, marriages falling apart, the death of young adults, anger issues, serious child behavior problems… I felt absolutely unable—and unwilling—to tackle the job. So instead of praying, I escaped to the laundry room to take the clothes out of the dryer. As I vigorously shook out a shirt, this thought came to mind: Here you are thinking it’s impossible to pray for one hundred requests. God not only hears billions of requests an hour, He also follows through and acts on them. I printed out the requests and put them by the chair where I do my morning prayers, and each morning I prayed for ten of them until I finally finished all of them. Dear Creator of the universe, help me to say yes to the spiritual tasks You assign me even when I feel unequal to the task. Amen. —Karen Barber Digging Deeper: Mk 10:45; 1 Pt 4:10–11

Someone once said that choosing chemotherapy is like choosing to jump off a building when someone is holding a gun to your head. You jump out of fear of death, or at least a fear of the painful and ugly version of death that is cancer, or you jump from a desire to live, even if that life will be for the rest of its duration a painful one. There is a choice, of course, and you make it, but the choice never really feels like yours. You comply out of a fear of disappointing others, a fear of being seen as deserving of your suffering, a hope that you could again feel healthy, a fear that you will be blamed for your own dying, a hope that you can put it all behind you, a fear of being named as the person who cannot cheerfully submit to every form of self-preservative self-destruction written in the popular instructions. You comply from ritual obedience, as when the teacher hands out exams, or the bailiff says "All rise," or the minister entreats a prayer, or the cops shout "Move along." You comply from hope that obedience now will result in years in which you can disobey later. You comply because the only other option might be to drink carrot juice and die of your own cellular proliferation refusing to admit your own mortal vulnerabilities, pinning heartbreaking notes about spontaneous remission around your room.