Faith, Fear, and Breast Cancer

October 1, 2025

Breast Cancer Awareness Month

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and this year, it carries a much deeper weight for me.

I wasn’t planning to share this part of my story publicly, but as I prayed over it, I felt God nudging my heart—reminding me that we were never meant to walk through fear alone. Vulnerability invites connection, and community brings healing. I believe in the power of prayer and in the comfort that comes when we share our stories, even the hard ones.

This past week, I found a lump.

My first reaction was panic, followed by a flood of denial and overthinking. It’s probably nothing, I told myself. I’m being dramatic. But as the days went on, my mind couldn’t escape the weight of “what if?”

My mammogram is scheduled, and while I’m praying this turns out to be absolutely nothing, the reality is—I’m at a higher risk.

When I turned 30, I went to the Piper Breast Center for genetic testing to see if I carried the BRCA gene mutation. For those who aren’t familiar, the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes are tumor suppressors that help repair damaged DNA. When they mutate, they increase the risk of breast and ovarian cancers, often significantly.

My mom is a breast cancer survivor. My grandmother, her mother, lost her life to it. Several aunts have fought the same battle. I knew the odds weren’t in my favor.

When I got my results back and learned I did not carry the mutation, I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked God. But before I could even finish catching my breath, my doctor gently reminded me that my risk was still elevated—about 23% higher than average—due to family history, Jewish ancestry, and yes, my fair skin and redheaded genes.

She recommended annual mammograms and MRIs every six months in between. I remember thinking, That’s a lot of radiation for the rest of my life. I decided to get a baseline scan and committed to regular self-exams instead. Life got busy. Years passed. And now, here I am—two years since my last mammogram—waiting once again.

The Grief That Came Rushing Back

It’s strange how the present can awaken pain from the past. Finding this lump didn’t just stir fear—it reopened grief I thought had long since healed.

I was a sophomore in high school when my mom told me she had breast cancer. Only six months earlier, my dad had died suddenly from a heart attack. The shock of losing my rock was still raw, and now I was faced with the fear of losing my mom too.

At that time, life at my mom’s house was unstable—alcohol, drugs, domestic violence. It was chaos. My world felt like it was unraveling. I remember crying out to God in anger: Why did You take my dad, the stable one, and leave me with this?

I carry guilt for that prayer, but I also extend grace to my teenage self. She was wounded, scared, and drowning in grief. When my mom’s diagnosis came, it shattered what little sense of safety I had left. That was the beginning of a deep depression that followed me for nearly a decade.

So, when I found this lump last week, it wasn’t just the fear of cancer that surfaced—it was the echo of that teenage girl inside me who thought she might lose everything again.

From Fear to Faith

But here’s where my story shifts: I’m not that same girl anymore.

Through years of healing, sobriety, counseling, faith, and grace, I’ve learned to meet fear differently. This time, I feel the calm presence of Jesus surrounding me like a soft whisper: “I’ve got you.”

I’ve walked through enough storms to know that even when the waves rise, He never lets me drown. Early detection can save lives—but it’s God’s presence that saves my peace.

I won’t pretend I don’t feel fear—because I do. But I also feel courage.

When I look back on my life—on the trauma, addiction, grief, divorce, and the redemption that followed—I see a pattern of God’s faithfulness woven through it all. Every time I thought something would break me, He used it to rebuild me stronger.

So today, I’m choosing to hold both:

Fear and faith.

Grief and gratitude.

Uncertainty and unwavering trust that God is still good.

A Reminder for You

If you’ve been putting off your screening, please—don’t. Do your monthly self-exams. Schedule that mammogram. Advocate for your health. Early detection isn’t just important—it’s life-saving.

And if you’re walking through your own battle—whether it’s with breast cancer, a diagnosis, or the emotional aftermath of loss—know that you are not alone.

We heal in community. We find strength in prayer. And we anchor our hope in Christ.

I am praying for every woman reading this who carries fear in her body or heaviness in her heart. May you be reminded that even when uncertainty looms, God’s light still breaks through the darkness.

I don’t know what my results will be yet, but I do know this—whatever comes, God’s got my back. (And yes, even my breasts—though I still can’t say that without a little laugh.)

“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.”
— 1 Peter 5:7 (NIV)

A Prayer for Peace

Lord,

When fear whispers lies, help me to hear Your truth louder. Remind me that You go before me and behind me, and that nothing catches You by surprise. Calm my anxious heart and fill me with the peace that only You can give. Thank You for the gift of another day—for breath in my lungs and hope in my soul.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Disclaimer: The reflections shared in this post are part of my personal story and faith journey. While I am a graduate counseling student working toward licensure, I am not a licensed counselor or medical professional. The content on this blog is intended for encouragement and spiritual reflection, not as professional counseling, therapy, or medical advice.

If you have health concerns, please consult a qualified healthcare provider. If you are experiencing overwhelming fear, depression, or thoughts of self-harm, please reach out for help immediately—call or text 988 for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. You are not alone. Help is available, and there is always hope.

With grace and light,

Jess