Inspirational encouragement for your unsure moments
“God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved: God shall help her, and that right early.”
– Psalm 46:5
On the day I heard the words “You have breast cancer,” something unexpected happened — I smiled. It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t denial. It wasn’t shock. It was something deeper, something holy, something that didn’t make sense in the natural.
My smile wasn’t rooted in the diagnosis; it was rooted in the presence of God.
When the doctor spoke the words out loud, they seemed to float in the air for a moment, suspended between fear and faith. I remember looking at Danny, squeezing his hand, and feeling a stillness fall over the room. Not fear. Not panic. Just peace — fragile, yet undeniable.
It made no sense. Cancer is supposed to break you. It’s supposed to consume your thoughts, unravel your emotions, and steal your joy. But in that moment, joy rose up inside me like a quiet rebellion against fear.
That smile was more than an expression.
It was a declaration.
A statement.
A spiritual posture.
It was the whisper of my soul saying, “This will not move me.”
In that moment, I knew — not from my strength, but from God’s — that the cancer had not come to destroy me. It had come to reveal God’s glory in a way I had never experienced before.
My husband Danny looked at me, shocked. I think part of him wondered if I understood what the doctor said. But he also saw something shift in me — something strong, something anchored, something supernatural. And that strength wasn’t mine. It was God’s.
That day, my smile became a memorial stone — a moment I would carry with me through every biopsy, every appointment, every sleepless night. A reminder that fear doesn’t get to write my story.
Looking back, I understand why that smile came so naturally: God’s presence carries joy, even in the darkest valleys.
It wasn’t the kind of joy that comes from happiness or circumstances. It was the kind of joy that only comes from knowing who walks beside you. A joy that settles deep into your spirit and says: “Even here, even now, God is with you.”
In the days that followed, that moment in the doctor’s office became a reference point. When fear tried to sneak in, I remembered how God steadied me when I should have been falling apart. When doubt whispered, “What if…?” my spirit remembered, “But God…”
I realized something powerful: Joy isn’t the absence of a hard reality — it’s the presence of God in the middle of it.
My smile wasn’t strength; it was surrender. It was the Holy Spirit rising in me when my flesh didn’t have the ability to stand.
So many times, I returned to that moment, mentally reliving the peace that filled the room. It became evidence that God was not only with me — He was ahead of me, preparing each step.
Not one appointment surprised Him.
Not one biopsy worried Him.
Not one moment overwhelmed Him.
God was already working behind the scenes, aligning the right doctors, the right timing, and the right support system. And every time fear tried to overshadow that truth, God reminded me of the peace He gave me when I heard the diagnosis.
That peace didn’t come from understanding.
It came from trusting.
This is an excerpt from the book, “Faith over Fear: A Healing Journey” by Kimberly Allen, a devotional for women facing breast cancer or other hard battles of life.