Walking Worthy

Learning to walk with faith, hope, and grace through the story we never saw coming.

Today’s Story

A few weeks ago, I was away speaking at a men’s retreat in Kansas. Before I left, Jenn had gone for her normal yearly mammogram. We’ve gotten used to these checkups over the years. A few years ago, there was a scare—an irregular image, some extra testing—but thankfully, everything turned out fine. So when her doctors called for additional imaging again this year, it felt unsettling, but not unfamiliar. We thought we knew this road.

After the second round of images, the doctors recommended a biopsy. Even then, the days that followed felt surprisingly normal. There were moments of anxiety, but they felt more like echoes of our last experience rather than alarms.

Before I left for the retreat, Jenn asked me,

“If the biopsy results come in while you’re gone, do you want me to tell you or wait until you get home?”

I told her, “Just let me know.”

Friday morning, I boarded a plane to Kansas City.

After landing, I picked up my mentor and co-worker, Phil Herndon, from a different flight. (I’ll come back to why Phil being there matters.)

We drove a couple of hours outside Kansas City, arrived at the church, and spent the next few hours leading sessions with the men.

Later that evening, as Phil and I were walking to the car, he received a text that visibly shook him. I noticed it, but didn’t ask any questions yet. We got back to the hotel, and I FaceTimed Jenn to catch up. We laughed, shared updates from the day, and then I asked her if she had heard anything from the doctor.

I’ll never forget her face—calm, almost expressionless—as she quietly said three words:

“I have cancer.”

At first, I thought she was joking. It lasted only a second before I realized she was serious.

I was stunned. Frozen. Speechless.

This is where God’s providence showed up so clearly.

Phil being there wasn’t an accident.

God has used Phil to walk with me through almost every major life event over the past 17 years. That night, God made sure I wasn’t alone.

By God’s grace, I caught the first flight home the next morning.

⸻

Emotions and Reflections

These last few weeks have been some of the most disorienting and discouraging of my life.

There have been moments where I’ve felt God’s nearness almost like being carried—and moments where He’s felt painfully silent.

Both realities are true.

Both are part of the story we are now living.

But even when my feelings shift, God’s faithfulness doesn’t.

He has not left us.

He has not forgotten us.

He keeps showing up—through texts, visits, meals, and unexpected moments of grace.

⸻

Jenni’s Update

Since her diagnosis, Jenn and I have visited several doctors to better understand both the diagnosis and the treatment plan.

She has had a port placed, and her chemotherapy journey has officially begun.

Chemotherapy Plan:

• Every 21 days

• 6 total rounds

• One step at a time

Each treatment day marks a new cycle—bringing its own set of challenges, recoveries, and prayers.

We are learning, adjusting, grieving, and—by God’s grace—hoping.

⸻

Glimpses of Grace

One of the moments I’ll never forget happened the morning Jenn and I went to the hospital for her port placement.

As we sat in the hospital lobby, I looked up—and there he was: the man who led me to Christ when I was 18 years old back in Texas.

It wasn’t random.

It wasn’t coincidence.

It was a glimpse of grace—one more reminder that God is weaving His presence into this story, even when we can’t always see it.

⸻

Today: Chemo Begins

Today, we officially started chemotherapy.

On the way to the hospital, Jenn and I did an emotional check-in with each other.

She shared that she was feeling a little anxious—but mostly peaceful.

That peace comes from something the Lord spoke to her heart before the diagnosis was even confirmed.

Jenn’s friend had shared a verse she’d seen earlier that day on a church sign—Ephesians 4:1:

“I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called.”

(Ephesians 4:1, ESV)

Jenn felt God saying: walk with cancer—not around it, not against it—but with it, in a way that honors Him.

After her labs were drawn, she was led back to her infusion chair.

It was a long day, but within minutes of starting chemo, Jenn fell asleep—and slept peacefully through almost the entire treatment.

That was grace.

She had wanted to “get things done” during the long treatment window, but instead, God gave her rest.

The nurses were kind.

The space was peaceful.

And even here—in the place we never hoped to be—there was mercy.

Our prayer is that God will use this part of our story…

and that He will receive all the glory

.

---