The Cancer of Flesh

Part I: Diagnosis & The Transplant of Grace

There are battles we talk about, and then there are battles we feel.

Somewhere between prayer and contradiction, surrender and relapse, conviction and confusion. I found myself wrestling with something that felt deeper than temptation or weakness. It felt invasive. It felt internal. It felt like it was trying to own me. It felt like the cancer of flesh.

And the more I learned, the more I realised:

Scripture had been describing this all along.

Cancer does three things; it grows quietly, it spreads aggressively, and it destroys whatever gives life. So does the flesh. Paul says:

“Put to death what belongs to your earthly nature.” Colossians 3:5

He wasn’t being poetic. He was being clinical. He was describing a terminal condition of the soul. The flesh is not just “bad habits.” It is an internal force trying to replace life with death — and it often hides itself well.

Some days it feels like I’m fighting something I never chose. And yet, God is operating on me daily.

In the medical world, the cure for certain cancers is a transplant — a complete replacement of what is failing.

Someone must die or sacrifice part of themselves so that another person can live. This is the gospel.

Christ didn’t offer “advice”. He offered a donation — His life for mine. His death became the donor organ. His resurrection became my new heartbeat. The Holy Spirit became the new life transplanted into me. And just like organ donation in real hospitals, salvation required:

Delicacy. Urgency. Precision. Grace. Sacrifice.

God is the most intricate Physician I’ve ever known.

In every transplant story, the patient’s life must change - diet, habits, environment, routine, medications, boundaries, triggers, exposure. Now replace medication with the word of God and this transplant story is also reflected as your change as a Christian.

You cannot receive a new organ and live the old life and you cannot receive the Holy Spirit and live the old nature. This is where the battle begins because the flesh doesn’t surrender quietly. It resists the new life like a cancer resisting treatment. And yet, the Physician is patient.

People think healing is peaceful. But ask anyone who has undergone chemotherapy, radiation, or surgery.

Healing hurts. It requires examination, honesty, vulnerability, and a willingness to be opened up. It requires treatment that often feels worse than the disease. And yet, all of it is aimed at life.

God’s sanctification feels exactly like this. He opens what I would rather keep closed. He examines what I would rather ignore. He removes what I feel attached to. He speaks life into what I called normal. He does it with detail, care, and intention.

Doctors can examine you. Surgeons can operate on you. Loved ones can support you. But no one, I mean no one can fight the cancer for you. I spoke about the power of prayer for oneself, faith from oneself. No one can taste a dish for you and make you experience the flavour. Told stories don’t make for your written story.

You must want to live. Spiritually, it’s the same.

The Holy Spirit is the donor organ. Christ is the surgeon. The Father gave the ultimate gift.

But You/I m the one who must fight your/my flesh, fight your/my patterns, fight your/my comfort, fight your/my old identity.

And some days, the hardest part of the fight is simply choosing not to quit. Sometimes the choice isn’t yes because yes is easier than no and as cliche as it sounds we are in this together.

Even in medicine, no one receives a transplant unless they have support. Doctors literally refuse the procedure if the patient has no community.

Because isolation kills recovery. Fellowship is a requirement not a desire or option. But two must agree.

“Encourage one another daily.” Hebrews 3:13

And

“Carry each other’s burdens.” Galatians 6:2)

As well as

“Confess your sins to one another… that you may be healed.” James 5:16

God designed the spiritual life just like the physical one: survival requires support. No one beats cancer alone. No one beats the flesh alone.

This is why God commands us to teach children early. As much as faith strengthens and heals, the deepest inheritance a parent gives is not only financial — it is spiritual.

Just like Seth prepared Noah, Noah prepared Abraham, Abraham prepared Isaac, Isaac prepared Jacob, Jacob prepared the tribes…

Spiritual inheritance is generational.

It brings the gospel from one lineage to the next.

And just like cancer, when you treat it early, the chance of survival multiplies.

When a child is taught Christ the first sign of wrong thinking, flesh, and of darkness - they have a better chance of living a life of freedom, clarity, and strength.

“Train up a child in the way they should go, and when they are old they will not depart from it" Proverbs 22:6

God knowing what He knows and Jesus spoke on the cross to

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

Many of us encountered Christ later, not late and though the diagnosis of our flesh seemed “terminal,” but faith became our successor, Christ became our Redeemer, and God became our Protector. Even late-stage battles bow to eternal grace.

Christ didn’t die so I could simply “be fine,” or so I could fight earthly battles.

He died so I could be free….

Thank you for reading Part One of “The Cancer of Flesh.” This chapter invites you into honesty — not to expose you, but to prepare you for healing.

As you reflect this week, sit with these three questions:

1. Where do I feel the flesh resisting the new life God is forming in me?

2. Have I been trying to fight battles alone that God designed to be fought with support?

3. What is God asking me to open, surrender, or let Him operate on?

Part Two releases next week — the chapter of recovery, spiritual surgery, and the God who fights for you.

Stay on His Truth and reflect on your actions.