He made the laver of bronze and its base of bronze, from the bronze mirrors of the serving women who assembled at the door of the tabernacle of meeting.
—Exodus 38:8 (NKJV)

I was diagnosed with breast cancer in December 2007. And, while I can assure you that I never want to face a cancer battle again, I am thankful for the many truths that God spoke to my heart during that season of my life. There are so many things that I am sure I would have missed had I not been walking out that journey called "cancer". One of those truths dealt with my identity; my image of myself.

Everyone has an identity; usually many identities...you're Joe's wife, Suzy's mom, boss to numerous employees, Melinda's friend, Dr. Bennett's nurse...you get the picture. And we also have an image—the way others view us and the way we see ourselves.

For years my identity was pretty cut and dried. It was all wrapped up in my family and my role as a wife and a mom. I realize that for some women in today's modern times that would be an insult and it would appear that my life was lacking. But I loved being able to care for my family by meeting their physical and emotional needs: lots of snuggles with the little kids; plenty of time for late night talks with the older ones; making nutritious meals, knowing that my family was getting what they needed to be healthy. I didn't mind getting up at 5:00 in the morning to make sure that my husband had a hot breakfast and had his lunch packed and a cup of coffee ready to go when he left for work. The outward image of my inward identity was that of femininity; there was the waist-length hair (my hair wasn't stylish and by most standards it was nothing to get excited about, but I loved it), curves (not superstar curves, but curves nonetheless), long lashes that responded really well to a nice coat of mascara, to name a few things.

Then came cancer and chemo and surgery and radiation. Suddenly I was stripped of so many of the things that made me who I was. I became physically unable to prepare meals; I was indescribably tired and, at times, so nauseated I could hardly stand the smell of cooking food. I found myself unable to clean my house; just taking a load of clothes out of the washing machine necessitated a nap, and side effects from the chemo made using a broom or mop impossible. Forget getting up at 5:00 a.m. to fix my husband's breakfast. I couldn't even get up to see him off to work. Low white blood cell counts had my immune system so compromised that snuggling with runny-nosed little ones was a gamble. The older kids didn't want to rob me of my sleep with late night talks. Intimate time with my husband was pretty much nonexistent; too much of my energy was focused just on surviving. My roles as nurturer, caregiver, homemaker and wife were horribly altered. Then there was my outward image; I was mostly bald, my eyelashes were gone, fingernails rotted, breasts removed and in their place nasty, ugly scars—forever reminders of a journey I had not chosen for myself.

I felt lost, out of sorts. There were no words to express the loss that I felt. Looking back, I now realize that my soul was silently screaming, "Who am I?!?!" I had lost my image—my identity. Through prayer I felt the Holy Spirit speaking to me that, while there was nothing inherently wrong with the roles that I had filled or my pre-cancer appearance, those things should never have become my image.

Our identity is nothing outside of God. He is the only steadfast, never changing, always sure factor of our lives. Our jobs can change, our spouses will one day pass away, our children will eventually leave home, our health may falter. Every situation we find ourselves in today has the potential to be drastically different tomorrow. But, a relationship with God, nurtured through reading His Word and prayer, will be the constant that can see us through every circumstance.

For me, walking out cancer would have been impossible if I had not known that I could trust that God would stay the same and that He would set things right in His time. The only way that I could grasp that truth was because of a relationship with Jesus Christ and time spent with Him in prayer and reading His Word.

It is no coincidence that Moses, according to God's instructions, had the laver for His tabernacle constructed from the bronze mirrors (the reflection of an image) that belonged to the serving women. The laver was a place of cleansing, the place of preparation before entering the presence of God. It was symbolic of Jesus' cleansing blood. How amazing that thousands of years ago God chose to show us in such a unique way that our image needs to be bathed in a relationship with Jesus Christ.

Copyright © Candy Reid Share