I Still Believe

by Jeremy Camp

  We talked about going into ministry together. I would sing and, with the love Melissa had for people, she would minister to women and lead Bible studies. It seemed like a perfect fit.

  Melissa had been studying to become a teacher, and I knew she would be a great one because I had observed how she interacted with kids and youth at church, hugging them and giving them her big smile that made each one feel as though her smile was exclusively for them. And I couldn’t wait to watch her with our kids. We talked about having children and all the dreams engaged couples have of chasing little ones around the house and taking them to sports activities or recitals or whatever their interests would be.

  Late in the summer of 2000, we flew to Indiana to attend the wedding of Joey Bell, a friend I’d known since I was young and with whom I had attended Bible college. Melissa knew my parents from their trips to California to visit me, but that was the first time she had visited my home. It was cool to share parts of my past with her, and being Melissa, she instantly hit it off with the friends I introduced her to.

  I had one friend whose mother had cancer and, like Melissa, was going through chemo treatments. Melissa went over to their house to help cook soup for his mother. She understood what my friend’s mother was going through and wanted to serve her and do what she could to help.

  While we were in Indiana, Melissa received a phone call from one of her doctors. A test showed there was cancer on her uterus, and the doctor wanted Melissa to undergo a hysterectomy as soon as possible. That news jarred us. If Melissa had her uterus removed, we wouldn’t be able to have kids.

  When we returned home and met with the doctor, I told him that we were going to have people all around the country and the world praying for us.

  “If you go in for the operation and there’s no cancer on her uterus,” I asked, “you won’t remove it, right?”

  “Of course we wouldn’t,” he answered. But then he looked directly at me and, in a no-nonsense manner to make sure I understood the seriousness of the situation, added, “But we’ve done the tests, and it’s there. I’m sorry.”

  MR. AND MRS. CAMP!

  The operation was scheduled to be done as soon as possible, and we sent out a call to everyone we knew—asking them to ask everyone they knew—to intercede on Melissa’s behalf. The praying continued through the operation.

  I paced the hallways of the hospital. “God, You are the healer,” I would pray. “We need Your healing power today. Please heal Melissa.”

  After a shorter time than we had expected to wait, Melissa’s mom came running toward me. “It’s gone!” she exclaimed. “The cancer is gone! They didn’t remove her uterus!”

  I dropped to my knees right there in the hallway. “Thank You, God! Thank You!” I called my family and as many friends as I could think of, excitedly sharing the news: “God healed her! He did it!”

  The surgeon said he had found no trace of cancer on her uterus. When Melissa woke up from her surgery and learned the great news, we cried together at the realization that we could still have kids together.

  Her whole attitude toward being healed was as though she had known all along that would be the outcome. For me, I had wanted her to be healed and had believed that she could be healed, but I hadn’t necessarily believed it would happen. Melissa had believed. Once again, I was amazed and inspired by her faith.

  Melissa turned twenty-one on October 7. Fourteen days later, we were married in Rancho Santa Fe, with my dad performing the ceremony.

  Melissa was excited that her hair had begun to grow back out for the wedding. It was a little spiky, and we made a few jokes about that, just as we had when she was my beautiful, bald, brown-eyed babe.

  She was stunningly gorgeous in her wedding dress. As she walked down the aisle toward me, her face was a glowing reflection of Christ’s peace and joy. Melissa had chosen white as the color for all the bridesmaids’ dresses, to represent the purity that we stood for.

  The bride and the groom are the natural center of attention at a wedding, but we wanted our ceremony to be one in which God was honored and glorified. The sweet presence of the Holy Spirit filled the sanctuary throughout our ceremony. Together we sang the song “Dwelling Places,” which we chose to express how our love for each other was rooted in God. The chorus includes the lines,

  I love You, I love You, I love You,

  And my heart will follow wholly after You.

  Melissa’s bout with cancer added to the emotion everyone in the church obviously felt during the ceremony. Melissa had wanted to invite everyone she had ever known—there were about six hundred in attendance—because she wanted them to hear the gospel proclaimed during the service.

  We hadn’t been able to afford on our own the type of wedding that Melissa probably had dreamed of, but because she was so loved, friends rallied around us and helped provide what I think Melissa considered a picture-perfect wedding. The ceremony was a joyous time, and Melissa obviously loved every minute of it.

  We were happy to have Jason Duff attend. Time had healed the wound in my relationship with him, and I appreciated the gracious support he showed Melissa and me by being there.

  Melissa and I flew off for a two-week honeymoon in Hawaii, where her aunt and uncle owned a house on the beach. We had the house to ourselves for a week, and when her aunt and uncle came over for the second week, we stayed in a downstairs apartment-type area. Her aunt and uncle were another blessing for us because we would not have been able to afford two weeks in Hawaii on our own. We also were going to see my family in Indiana for a couple of weeks, so we would have about a month after the wedding before returning home to California.

  From the moment our plane landed on Oahu, the trip truly did feel like a getaway. Melissa had been feeling progressively stronger as the wedding approached, and our honeymoon was a time for us to be alone together and not have to deal with chemo treatments or doctors’ appointments.

  We started off our honeymoon just enjoying being married and having all our life ahead of us. We walked along the beach and swam in the ocean. We rode bicycles to sightsee along the coast. We went out for dinners. We stayed in and made meals together. We played board games and Phase 10. We did whatever we wanted to do—basically, we hung out. We simply had fun while it sunk in that we were married!

  The whole scene—being married to Melissa, being able to honeymoon in Hawaii despite not having enough money to do so—seemed like a dream.

  Although being in Hawaii was a time of relief from the health issues Melissa had dealt with back home, I still felt a seriousness inside, as though I did not know how to fully let go. There were moments when the reality of her situation hit me.

  One of those moments came when I was alone in the living room.

  I was reflecting on 2 Corinthians 5:7—“We walk by faith, not by sight” (NASB)—and I sensed God speaking to my heart: I know you’re afraid, and there is a lot you don’t know. But you’re not supposed to know right now. Just continue to trust Me. I know what I’m doing. I know what I’m doing.

  God was right—I did not know what was going to happen. I didn’t even have a clue what might happen. Although things were looking better with Melissa’s health and we were daring to say her cancer was in remission, I was scared. But I thought of God’s words to continue to trust Him and recalled some of the reasons from my past that served as evidence for why I could continue to trust. With one breath, God had puffed life into me, and He had been faithful to me all my life.

  I grabbed my guitar and pondered two questions:

  Will I believe God when He says His hand will guide my every way?

  Will I receive the words He says, every moment of every day?

  The words to the song “Walk by Faith” came to me:

  (Verse 1)

  Would I believe You when You would say

  Your hand will guide my every way?

  Will I receive the words You say,

  Every moment of every day?

  (Chorus) />
  Well, I will walk by faith

  Even when I cannot see.

  Well, because this broken road

  Prepares Your will for me.

  (Verse 2)

  Help me to rid my endless fears—

  You’ve been so faithful for all my years.

  With one breath You make me new—

  Your grace covers all I do

  Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ya.

  (Chorus)

  (Bridge)

  Well, I’m broken, but I still see Your face.

  Well, You’ve spoken, pouring Your words of grace.

  (Chorus, twice)

  Well, hallelujah, hallelu

  (I will walk by faith)

  Well, hallelujah, hallelu

  (I will walk by faith)

  I will walk, I will walk, I will walk by faith.

  I will, I will, I will walk by faith.

  I had been reading what God’s Word said. I had been listening to what He had spoken to me. Melissa and I had been trusting Him. But now I was at a point where there was one major question I needed to confront: Am I going to take action on my faith?

  The chorus answered that question with resolve: I would follow the Lord wherever He led me, regardless of what might lie ahead.

  I played and sang the song for Melissa. “It’s beautiful,” she said, and we both sat there quietly, I think both feeling the same peace that God was leading us and would continue to do so no matter what we would face together.

  A few days later, Melissa said she was having stomach pain. “It feels weird,” she said, “like it’s swelling.” Her eyes revealed a deep concern.

  “Maybe it’s just something you’ve eaten,” I told her, because we were eating different foods on the trip than we typically ate. I took a seat in the living room and began to feel nervous. I hoped Melissa had indigestion. Once someone has had cancer, you can hope a pain is something minor, but there is always the fear it’s much worse.

  We still had a great time on the rest of our honeymoon. But on a complete getaway from our daily routines, we had a lot of time to think. There were moments I had to myself when my thoughts would return to what Melissa had said about her stomach. I would get concerned, and some nights I had trouble sleeping.

  I tried not to look worried, but I think Melissa sensed moments of anxiety and fear in me. I could tell she was wondering what was going on inside her body too. But any concerns she expressed were about me, not her.

  “Are you okay?” she would ask me.

  “I’m fine,” I would say, blown away that she was thinking more about me than herself.

  CHAPTER 10

  SEEKING HOPE

  Melissa and I flew from Hawaii to Indiana. We were having a reception there for those who had not been able to travel to California for our wedding, and also a friend who was a part of our wedding was getting married.

  The weather was relatively warm for an Indiana autumn. My parents were having a new driveway poured at their house, and everyone in the family stepped barefoot into the wet cement. I don’t know what says “Welcome to the family” to a newlywed more than letting her put her footprints in her in-laws’ driveway!

  Beneath all the footprints, we wrote “Isaiah 52:7,” which says, “How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, ‘Your God reigns!’”

  My mom was helping set up and decorate for my friend’s wedding, and Melissa wanted to help. But she wasn’t feeling well, and my mom was trying to make sure she didn’t get overtaxed. My mom told Melissa that she needed to rest because she was probably worn out from the treatments and everything having to do with the wedding, and then the drastic time changes in traveling to Hawaii and back to the Midwest.

  But my parents were concerned, and I told them I would make an appointment with Melissa’s doctor as soon as we were back in California. I also told them how excited I was to be going back home. Melissa had already fixed up our apartment, and a month after marrying, we were finally going to settle into our home.

  When we returned home, I made an appointment for Melissa.

  This was right around Thanksgiving, and Heather had come home to visit her family. Heather later told me that she and Melissa were alone in the bedroom and that she could tell Melissa wasn’t feeling well.

  “What’s wrong?” Heather asked.

  Melissa partly lifted her shirt, took Heather’s hand, and rubbed it across her stomach. Heather could feel tumors all over Melissa’s stomach, and they wept together and prayed that God would heal whatever was wrong with Melissa.

  When the doctor examined Melissa, he said she had fluid buildup in her stomach that needed to be drained. While the fluid was being drained, I held tightly to her hand and felt helpless as pained expressions kept appearing on her face. That was difficult to watch.

  The doctor had the fluids tested, and when the results came back, he asked to speak to me alone.

  Oh, no, I thought as I made my way toward the door.

  “What’s going on?” I asked the doctor outside the room before he had a chance to start the conversation. I saw compassion in his eyes. He knew we had just married.

  “I’m afraid the cancer is—well, it’s all over her,” he told me. “It has returned, and it has metastasized to other parts of her body. I’m sorry to have to tell you this.”

  The news hit me like a punch, but it was more of a get-your-attention jab than a knockout blow. I still had my “let’s-get-after-it” mentality from writing “Walk by Faith.” We’d received bad news before and Melissa had been healed, so I was ready to put together an action plan to deal with this next problem too.

  “Okay, so what do we do now?” I asked the doctor.

  He didn’t answer immediately, and I didn’t like how intently he looked into my eyes.

  “No,” he said slowly. “See, there’s nothing else we can do.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Our treatment options are very few. Jeremy, she probably has months or maybe even weeks to live.”

  I don’t remember how the conversation ended. Where my memory picks up again, I was alone in the hallway, realizing I needed to compose myself as quickly as I could. Then I walked into the room to tell Melissa.

  Because the doctor had taken me out of the room, she had to have known that the news wasn’t good. I could tell she had been crying, and she likely could see from my eyes that I had been crying too.

  I sat beside her bed and repeated what the doctor had told me. We both broke down. She tried to console me, but we didn’t say much while we waited for her to be released from the hospital.

  I was in disbelief as I drove home and don’t remember anything we talked about except one thing Melissa said. I can still hear it crystal clear in her voice: “I want to let you know that it’s okay if you find somebody else after I go, and I don’t want you to have to wait. You don’t have to sit in this grief for a long time.”

  I couldn’t understand why she told me that. “We’re in a fight here,” I told her. “I’m still gonna fight.”

  It wasn’t that Melissa was choosing not to fight, but she already was coming to grips with the reality of her condition and looking ahead to help me with what I would be facing.

  I called my parents to inform them of the doctor’s report.

  “Hello?” my mom answered.

  I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. I tried again and still couldn’t.

  My mom hung up the phone. I waited a few seconds to gather myself and dialed the number again, but no one answered.

  I called my sister.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  Again I tried to speak, but couldn’t. April hung up. I called back. She answered. I failed again to say anything. She hung up again.

  I called a third time.

  “Please don’t hang up,” I barely managed to say when she answered.

  April st
ayed on the line. I had difficulty talking.

  “They just told me,” I managed to say, “that Melissa has a few weeks to a few months to live.”

  I told April how I had tried to call my mom and she had hung up, and how I had called back and she hadn’t answered. My parents didn’t have cell phones, but April said she knew my parents had an appointment with the banker and that she would track them down for me.

  April called the bank, and when the banker’s secretary stepped into his office and told my mom that April was on the phone, my mom’s heart sank. She knew something was terribly wrong if April had called the bank. April told my mom what I had said, and my parents left immediately to call me.

  “We’re coming out,” my mom told me. “We’ll do whatever we need to do to get there.”

  “No, don’t come yet,” I told her. “I want to see if I can find some different options for Melissa. We’re going to look at some things we can do. I don’t even know if we’ll be here, so wait.”

  FIGHTING, BELIEVING, AND WORSHIPING

  It became obvious right away that we would not be fighting alone. For the previous several months, we had been reaching out to as many people as we could to pray for Melissa. We tapped into our prayer network again after receiving the bad news from the doctor.

  Ministers and friends began coming to our apartment to pray for Melissa and anoint her with oil. During some of those visits, we had powerful times of worship and praise. We heard from friends and family who lived outside of our area and wanted to let us know they were praying for and believing in healing.

  Although we were disappointed with the diagnosis of Melissa’s cancer returning, we were so confident that the Lord could heal her. I really struggled with seeing her in pain, so I wanted healing to come quickly.