The thing that terrified me the most about the prospect of receiving chemotherapy was this: I was worried it might kick my very mild case of multiple sclerosis into a more progressive version. Stress can sometimes do this to the wearied MS body.

My husband and I were weighing the cost-benefit of this treatment. It would be great to reduce my chances of cancer recurring, but would it be worth it if I lost the ability to walk or to care for myself? We’ve always been “less is more” when it comes to any kind of medication, and we wondered whether this might be a good time to apply such a philosophy.

We considered, we prayed, we lost sleep.

But then one day as I was steeped in my morning prayer, the Lord settled this verse on my heart: “By waiting and by calm shall you be saved, in quiet and in trust your strength lies” (Is 30:15b). I latched onto that verse, and it became a kind of insistent refrain for the season ahead. When I found myself tempted toward panic, I grabbed at this verse like a life preserver, and most especially the word “calm.” Hard to misinterpret that word; it’s not a subtle reply to a heart poised for panic.

We took a deep breath and made plans for my first chemo infusion. In due diligence, I wrote to my neurologist asking if he’d had other patients with MS go through chemo. Did it kick their MS into something more progressive? Should I be worried about that?

I will never forget his reply. Through his nurse, we read, “No, it shouldn’t do that. (The doctor said) some forms of chemotherapy are used to treat MS … chemo is much more likely to ‘calm down’ MS than to activate it.” The message listed some of those chemo meds that were used to treat MS — including one that I would be on.

My heart soared. I could hardly believe the words he used to describe it. It was as if Jesus himself showed up in my living room and with some fervor said, “Liz, I told you, calm down.”

It recalls all too vividly a favorite moment from the Gospel of Mark: “A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But (Jesus) was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’ He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’ Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, ‘Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?’ And they were filled with great awe” (Mk 4:37-41).

In this season of windstorm, of bashing waves, and feeling swamped, I choose, moment by moment, to remember the mighty Lord I worship. When the stormy sea of me kicks up, I must hold fast to the word of God, trusting in its power, its burning veracity, and remember that Jesus doesn’t dally with my life and heart like a toy. No, when he settles a word on my heart, it is indeed meant to sustain me in hope, trust, and in this case, unassailable calm.

Father, how you know me! In your mercy you break through to my heart with your unfailing word. Set it as a seal upon my heart, Lord, that nothing may assail my trust in you. Amen.

Kelly Stanchina is the author of 13 books, a retreat leader and speaker. Visit her website at lizk.org or follow her on Instagram at LizKToday.