When the Path is Unclear, God is Not.

9 years.

108 months.

3,287 days.

Today marks nine years since cancer entered my life.

But hear me clearly: it did not get the final word.

For nine years, my body has carried two diagnoses, but my spirit has carried a promise. I have lived through surgeries, uncertainty, setback after setback, and seasons where the fight was silent and deeply personal. And right now, I stand in a precarious place where there isn’t a clear path forward with treatment, where answers feel incomplete, and the road ahead is not fully defined. Yet, I stand as living evidence that what was sent to destroy me was met by the sustaining power of God.

I declare this: I am still here because God has purpose attached to my life. My breath is intentional. My survival is not accidental. My endurance is not random.

Cancer did not cancel my calling.

It did not erase my voice.

It did not disqualify my future.

These nine years have refined me, not reduced me. Strengthened my discernment. Deepened my faith. What once felt like interruption became preparation.

So today, I don’t mark an anniversary of disease; I mark nine years of divine preservation. Nine years of grace that held me when I couldn’t hold myself. Nine years of God proving that life can exist in the middle of diagnoses.

I decree that the days ahead will be marked by completion, clarity, and continued strength. What God has kept me alive for will be finished. What He has spoken over me will come to pass.

Nine years later, I am still standing.

Still called.

Still covered.

Still trusting the God who keeps me.

And that, in itself, is holy.

You are God’s Beloved

Netflix’s newest hit series, Bridgerton, a historical piece based on Julia Quinn’s novel that takes place during the Regency era in London, has taken the streaming world by storm. Passion, romance, deception, gossip, royalty, wealth, and sex (if you have not watched the series, prepare yourself for some incredibly steamy lovemaking sessions) are themes interwoven in the story as the eight siblings of the Bridgerton family attempt to find love.

Based on this summation, I’m sure I’ve piqued your interest in wondering just what Bridgerton and being God’s beloved have in common. Initially, I didn’t see the correlation either. Well, not until the eighth and final episode of the season.

One evening last week, frustrated, tired, and discouraged from news I had received earlier in the day, I stretched out on my recliner trying to tune my ear to the worship music playing from my Pandora app. This is something I have a habit of doing when my mind starts racing about life and I can’t seem to quiet it. Worship calms my mind and spirit.

Out of seemingly nowhere, I heard the words, Satan is after your identity. My ears perked up because I knew these weren’t my own thoughts. God was speaking. Pressing the down button on the side of my recliner so I could sit up, He continued to speak. When you are saved, your identity changes because you become a child of God—a beloved child of God—and Satan spends the rest of your life trying to convince you that you are not. He whispers that you are an addict, sinner, failure, sick, worthless, fat, too skinny, unlovable, impostor, hopeless….

And just as soon as the voice begun, it stopped. No telling me what I’m supposed to do with these words or how they apply to my situation, I felt a little lost. I continued to listen, but nothing else came. I was smart enough to write it down, but that was it.

It was not until over the weekend when I was more than halfway through watching episode eight of Bridgerton that it all began to make sense. Without giving away too many spoilers, Daphne, the main character, gives quite a gripping monologue to her husband, Simon—the Duke of Hastings. Read her words below:

“Just because something is not perfect doesn’t make it any less worthy of love. He made you believe that you needed to be without fault to be loved, but he was wrong. I love all of you. Even the parts that you believe are too dark and too shameful. Every scar. Every flaw. Every imperfection. You may think that you are too damaged or too broken to ever allow yourself to be happy, but you can choose differently, Simon. You can choose to love me as much as I love you…. only you can make that decision. It cannot be up to anyone else.”

It was at this moment that I hastily leaped out of my recliner while it was still sprawled out and made my way to stand closer to the TV. I turned back towards my recliner to grab my remote, but in my carelessness to get closer to the TV, I misplaced the remote. Lowering the recliner and feeling on the sides of the seat, I finally located the remote.

I just had to rewind to hear Daphne words again. I’m sure you also see the epiphany I had. Daphne was speaking to her husband, but I heard God speaking to me! My eyes began to well up with tears. I tried to stop them, but they began to roll down my face.

My friends, you are God’s beloved! When you chose to make Him Lord of your life, you became His beloved child. Satan (and some faulty theology) tries to make you believe that you are only worthy of God’s love when you have everything together and are without fault, or only if you fit into some of these acceptable man-made categories that say you are deserving of His love. Satan wants you to doubt your identity as God’s beloved, believing instead that because you have too many faults and still dabble in sin, you are worthless. But as Daphne spoke, “Just because something is not perfect does not make it any less worthy of love.”

God loves you! All of you! Those skeletons you have hidden in the closest and those things you’ve done that you hope never see the light of day—He knows what those are and yet, He still loves you! You aren’t too broken to be worthy of His love.

Today, choose to love Him as much as He loves you. You are His beloved and the apple of His eye.

Don’t Faint in Your Blurry Season

All throughout the four Gospels are stories of divine acts of healing. Some of these miraculous accounts are told multiple times, from a different vantage point or perspective. Yet, there are other miracles recorded only once. Within the book of Mark is one of these exclusive miracles. In Mark 8:22-26, a miracle of healing takes place that may leave you scratching your head and full of questions. This Gospel tells us about Jesus healing a blind man outside the village of Bethsaida.

In the text, some people brought a blind man to Jesus and begged Him to touch and heal him. Jesus took the blind man by the hand and led him outside of the village. Jesus then spat on the blind man’s eyes, touched him, and asked him could he see. The blind man responded that he could see people, but they looked like trees walking around. A second time, Jesus puts His hands on the man’s eyes, and the man’s sight was fully restored.

Why did Jesus take him outside of the village? Why did He use such an unconventional method such as saliva? Why didn’t the blind man receive his sight immediately? Why is this the only recorded miracle in the Gospels that took place in stages? And, finally, what does any of this have to do with me?

Well, if you have been following my blog, you know that about one year ago, almost to the exact day, I attended a women’s conference in Columbia, SC. There, God met me in a most unusual, exceptional way.

The day before, I was not even sure I was going to attend. I was in excruciating pain, but if I am honest, I believed that this was going to be a conference just like any other. My expectations were not that high. But my friend had great faith and believed the uncommon was going to happen just for me. He convinced me to make the drive to Columbia. In the same way, I’m sure it’s safe to assume that the blind man did not get to Jesus on His own; he had help to get there and possibly even others standing in faith believing that he would see again. Like me, perhaps the blind man, and even you, we often need the help of those around us to carry us to the Master through prayer and faith. Our faith may not always be strong enough to get us to Christ on our own, but through encouragement of other Christians, we can find ourselves at the feet of Christ ready to receive His healing touch!

Next, we see that Jesus led him outside of the village. For me, being led outside of the village was going to SC. I was removed from my home, state, and everything of comfort that I knew. I was going to a church I have never been before, surrounded by complete strangers. These strangers, however, would later become my cheering squad. I was literally led by hand out of my seat by Dr. Marcia Bailey and Prophetess Brenda Todd. Encompassed by a great crowd, it was as if those two led me away straight to the feet of Jesus.

The text then said that Jesus spat right into the blind man’s eyes and touched him. Could Jesus have healed the man without spitting into his eyes? Sure, He could. We have read other accounts of miracles without this action. What I suppose we are to gather from this is that Christ has a method, a calculated process, for our specific situation. Every miracle will not be the same. After the first spit and touch from Christ, the man can see people, but they appear as trees to him. His vision was blurry. I surmise we can say with some certainty that the man was not born blind as he was able to distinguish between people and trees.

This is, however, where I would like to hang my hat for a moment. As mentioned previously, this is the only miracle that takes place in stages. In every other divine act of healing, the miracle took place with the first effort. Did Christ mess up or was He not able to heal him the first time? Is Jesus not able to heal me completely? These are questions I started to ponder as I considered my own cancer story.

When I attended the women’s conference, I had a tumor the size of a tennis ball on my liver. Even amid so many women, it was as if Christ made everyone disappear and it was only He and I in the sanctuary. His presence was so near and tangible. All present believed that God had healed me right on the spot. I just knew that cancer was going to be over for me, quick, fast, and in a hurry. Upon my next round of scans and tests, I was assured that my pathology report would read NED (no evidence of disease), and cancer would just be a memory blowing in the wind.

But this was just the beginning of my blurry season. My next pathology report revealed that the tumor on my liver had wholly disappeared! As ecstatic as I was, I was also disappointed. I still had stage 4 terminal cancer. I felt like the blind man. There were some things that had changed—he could see people as trees and the tumor on my liver was gone—but the full miracle had not manifested.

God, what is going on? I thought you were going to heal me. What are the saints going to think? They are expecting me to be cancer free. And you know how some think, that if I am not cancer free then there must be something wrong with me spiritually. Where is my manifestation of healing? I am tired of struggling with cancer. Where are you, God? I know I told you I yield to however you want to heal me, but this is dragging on too long. This sucks!

These and so many other thoughts were floating around my head. I imagine the blind man may have felt the same way. Even though he could not see, I am sure he heard of all the miracles God had performed. Why was his taking longer? Why is mine taking longer? What do I do in the middle—in my blurry season—while I wait for God to complete my miracle? The answer: continue to move and do not faint.

We live in the microwave society. We want everything fast; the quicker, the better. Patience is a virtue we do not want to learn. And when it comes to spiritual matters, we sometimes have the tendency to believe that the faster God brings us through our afflictions, the closer we must be to Him. And if it takes a long time, then that person must be far from God or lacks faith.

But what if God is searching for the one who uses their blurry season productively… the one who fights through the struggle and still is effective for the Kingdom… the one who doesn’t see everything clearly, but still impacts the world. What if that person is me? What if that person is you? What if my journey is God designed and ordained? His method of healing me is intentional. Maybe, just maybe, He is using me to grow my faith and yours. Maybe He wants us to see that I do not allow cancer to stop me even though my full healing has not come to fruition. My greatest impact may be what happens and what I do during the dash in between my cancer diagnosis date and my cancer remission date.

I am facing some extreme, adverse circumstances that have blurred my vision. Stage 4 cancer appears as vast as some redwood trees.

Today, I was told that I am bigger than cancer and a tumor. And although redwoods are some of the biggest and tallest trees in the world, my God is bigger and able to sustain and advance me during my blurry season.

In the meantime, I will keep moving and wait for His second touch. I hope you do too.

… and because God is the greatest power, we shall NEVER be defeated…

Just for Me

#TiaCookeIsHealed

Many of you don’t know why I and others started using that hashtag around the middle of August 2019. It’s imperative that I tell this story now as it will build on another blog post that I will release next week.

Back in July, my good friend, Kevin (the one who started the fundraiser for me last year), told me about the upcoming women’s conference at his church, Right Direction Church International in Columbia, SC. He believed that it would be good for me to come down and attend. I remember talking to him and him stating that he believed that God was going to do something for me. So, I was like, “Cool.” I registered for the conference and booked my hotel room.

The conference began on a Thursday evening. The plan was to drive to Columbia Thursday morning. That Monday and Tuesday I received chemo. By Thursday morning, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to make the short 2.5-hour drive. I was in extreme pain. My legs felt like they were burning. Neuropathy had set in, and I was a mess. It was too late to cancel the hotel reservation, so they were going to charge me for at least one night. But it didn’t matter because I was in agony.

I contacted Kevin to tell him that I probably wasn’t going to make it after all. Now, Kevin is a voice I trust. This goes all the way back to undergrad at Wake Forest University. His faith was on 1,000 and he truly believed that something different, refreshing, and supernatural would take place just for me. Kevin wasn’t pushy but he was persistent that if I could, I should try to muster up the strength to make the drive. He just wanted to see me better.

Eventually, I decided to make the drive. Surprisingly, the drive wasn’t bad at all. I was, however, so exhausted when I arrived. I grabbed something to eat and fell asleep and missed the opening session Thursday night! But God’s plan wasn’t to be derailed.

Friday evening arrives and I pull myself together. I was nervous because I was going to be wearing a face mask. (I tell others that having cancer prepared me for COVID-19. I was already wearing face masks and gloves and have hand sanitizer, bleach, antibacterial soap, Lysol, and toilet tissue in bulk.) The face mask is needed even more so the days after I receive chemo as that’s when my immune system is the most compromised. I felt uncomfortable wearing this bright yellow face mask in front of strangers. Hey, I’m an introvert. I don’t like to stand out!  

The church is full as far as my eyes can see. Praise and worship begins. You can feel the anticipation in the air. No one needs to be pumped or primed. I am surrounded by at least 800 hundred women whose only desire is to worship God. Hands are raised; hearts and mouths are crying out to the Lord. As someone who loves corporate worship, this is everything to me. My hands are lifted, and tears are rolling down my face leaving my face mask a wet mess. I’ve been in services before where there’s no doubt God is moving, but there was something unusual about this service. I began to weep because His presence was so tangible. I wanted to get down on my knees and just stay in that place. I could have worshipped forever.  

My memory is a little foggy here. Blame that on chemo brain. But I believe it was sometime around the offering when the service shifted. The entire service shifted.

Just. For. Me.

Pastor Marcia Bailey called me out. I stuck out because of the mask, but I also knew that this was different.

Initially, my introverted self wanted to shrink and disappear. But a peace and feeling that I was safe overtook me. She came down off the stage and walked towards me. Prophetess Brenda Todd (the Thursday evening speaker) walked towards me as well. I remember Pastor Marcia asking me what my illness was. Through tears, I told them about the 2 forms of cancer. They began to pray, and before I knew it, all the ladies were standing, worshipping, praising, warring, and pleading with God on my behalf!

Just. For. Me.

Soon, the shouts, cries, and sounds of all 800+ women seemed to disappear, and it was just me and God alone. My focus was on Him. I felt Him in a way that I hadn’t in such a long time. It was overwhelming. I would never be the same. I was coming out of this differently. I didn’t know whether to jump and shout or fall on my face. I remember feeling hands that were holding me up. I felt such a calm and so much love. Oh, how He loves me!

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I’m not sure how much time had passed. Surely, 15 or 20 minutes. Maybe more. I didn’t want to leave this place—His presence. I was acutely aware that not only was God working on my spirit, but He was also working on that dreaded disease called cancer. Eventually, I came to myself and finally sat down. However, the ladies in attendance were still going strong glorifying and magnifying the Lord on my behalf.

It stirred something inside of me. Before my mind had time to catch up with my spirit, I was running all over the church. I soon stopped and my feet got light. I began to dance. I didn’t come out of my clothes, but I surely danced like David did. The strength to dance came from the Lord because physically I was drained.

After getting back to my seat, they tried to move the service along, but it was to no avail. By now, I would say that maybe 45 minutes had passed. Pastor Marcia asked me to come up front, and I told everyone about my cancer fight. As much as I “talk” about my journey on social media, this was the first time I spoke about it aloud to a group of people. I don’t remember all that I said; God was speaking through me. But I do remember repeating “I believe I am healed.” Pastor Marcia asked me my name and then others began chanting “Tia Cooke is healed.”  

I have no idea what happened the rest of the service. After I returned to my seat, I took off my face mask and put on another, only to have that one soaking wet quicker than the first. I was in awe that God chose to interrupt the service for me—to let me know that even in the midst of all the challenges, sorrow, and pain, He has not forsaken me. I am on His mind! And, He chose to do this publicly in a room full of people I didn’t know to show me that I am not alone.

Despite all that has happened since then, these two things remain: Tia Cooke is healed, and if He did it for me, He’ll do it for you!

I’ve Been Exposed

Recently, I purchased a full-length mirror. I was walking in Wal-Mart making my way to the electronics department hoping their limited CD section carried a new praise and worship CD that I was anxious to get my hands on. While walking, I became victim to Wal-Mart’s product and merchandising display strategy, where they line the path to the back of the store with seasonal and high margin products that they hope customers cannot just pass up. I fell prey. While they didn’t have the CD I was looking for, I walked out with a white-framed full-length mirror and the hardware to hang it on the back of my bedroom door.

At least a week had passed, and I hadn’t hung the mirror on the back side of the door. It was just propped up against a wall. One day after taking a shower, I went into my bedroom to dry off and I looked at the mirror. I’m not sure what possessed me, but I turned, dropped the towel, and stood in front of the mirror . . . naked. I started from my head and began to examine my body. I ran my hands along my chemo port and across all of my scars, surgical incisions, dark spots, and scaly, rough, and callous skin that I have amassed over the last two and a half years. I saw the weight I have gained from weekly steroid injections designed to lessen the pain that comes from rounds of chemo and radiation. I felt the sores in my mouth due to thrush. I observed the fatigue in my eyes. I sensed it in my body. It was all staring back at me. I was exposed . . . and I felt ashamed.

Fear gripped me. Did everyone else see me this way? The dismal, troubled, at times despondent, cancer patient. I’m Tia W. Cooke! The one that can handle any situation, and without exception, be in control of my life. Or, at least, that’s how I wanted you to view me. Since May 2017 when I received my first cancer diagnosis, I have spent an excessive amount of time and gone to great lengths trying not to appear sick, and I have spent much time trying to “fix” my cancer. So many times after leaving my therapist’s office, I would try to walk as fast as I possibly could in front of her to obscure that my body and soul were tired. The person I have bared my soul to and knows the good, bad, and ugly of my life—I still wanted to keep that private. I wonder did I do a good job at concealing it, or did she like everyone else, see my nakedness . . . and exposure.

While staring at myself in the mirror and pinpointing everything that seemed amiss, there were also some things that were gloriously right. Here I am still standing. I’ve literally beat death several times, from a suicide attempt in 2015 to outliving my oncologists’ prognoses multiple times. However, as I stood looking at myself in the mirror, I pondered were there any other areas in my life that needed exposing.

It was then that I made the decision to go on a social media hiatus for the month of August. I needed to rid myself of all distractions and make myself available to the lover of my soul. It is incredible the amount of time that is wasted idly scrolling through social media. I didn’t hear about the latest pastor or church scandal or become acquainted with the sexual lives of the saints through leaked videos. I didn’t have to feel that I was off course or behind schedule based on the status updates of others that are often riddled with gross exaggeration. There was such a freedom I began to experience. But I knew there was more. The same way I was naked and exposed in front of the mirror, I wanted to be naked and exposed in front of God, and not be ashamed. How did He see me? What did He think of me? With so much extra time on my hand, it wasn’t long before He began to speak. He saw all of me; those areas I willingly share as well as those areas I desperately try to hide.

He sees me as lovable. Beautiful. Kind-hearted. Creative. Loving. Insightful. Empathetic. Compassionate. Strong. Loyal. Eclectic. A fighter. A leader. A world changer. But He also sees and exposes the areas for improvement. Can we honestly say that there are areas where we haven’t given our all or have allowed to lapse in favor of other things we deem more important? I had allowed my life to become so consumed with cancer that my prayer life had fallen off. I was so concerned with making enough money to pay the mounting medical bills that it affected my time with Him. In my time with Him last month, He never condemned me or made me feel shamed. Being naked before Him proved that His opinion was the only one that mattered.

In my desperate attempt to stay covered, I allowed myself to believe that to be stripped of everything I know and want myself to be strips me of the best parts of me. When in fact, the best parts of me are seen when I’m closest to the way God created me, naked and unashamed.

I’ve been exposed . . . and I’m so much better because of it.