The year 2025 was a crazy one for our family. It was one of those years when your playbook gets sucked out the window and God gives you a new playbook—except this new one is play-by-play, meaning you don’t get the next play until the one you’re on is finished.

In mid-January our family left the bush of Papua New Guinea, where Rebekah and I have been ministering for more than 20 years. We flew to Australia to get medical help for some chronic gut issues that had worsened during the previous year. We had planned this trip to begin after the holidays, and I thought I could get the help I needed in a month or two and then return to PNG. Somewhere over the Great Barrier Reef, as we were descending into the northern city of Cairns, my playbook was sucked out the window. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it became clear during the next two weeks that God had other plans for us.

Since we were now in Australia where we had access to modern medicine, Rebekah decided to get some routine screening, during which she found out she had cancer. Suddenly, my issues became secondary, though I did learn I needed a specialist who was not to be found in this city. So, after much prayer, we decided to head back to the States to find some doctors who could help both of us with our medical issues.

As I write this, it is now November, and I am three weeks out from my second major surgery in 2025. Rebekah has had two different types of cancer removed in addition to another surgery. We are thankful both cancers were caught early and were treatable. In all this we have seen God’s grace, mercy, and strength poured out upon us as never before, and we trust in His timing for our return to PNG in 2026.

Lessons Learned

Here are a few lessons God taught me through the trials of 2025. Early on while still in Australia, I read the story of Elijah at Mount Carmel and of his great depression that followed in 1 Kings 18–19. Though a familiar story, it made me stop and think when I came to the Lord’s question to Elijah in 1 Kings 19:9: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” Then, a few verses later (v. 13), Elijah went to the entrance of the cave to hear the same question again from the mouth of the Lord, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” As I reviewed the story again, this seemed a strange question to ask. First, God was the one who sent Elijah down to Mount Horeb (vv.7-8). Second, God knows everything, so why ask the question at all? God must have asked the question for Elijah’s sake so that Elijah could hear his own answer. God knew the answer would be very telling—for Elijah, not for God. God already knew Elijah’s real need. This question was part of God helping Elijah to overcome his depression.

I imagined God asking me the same question, “Why are you here in Australia, Matt?” I wanted to respond as Elijah did. “Lord, I’ve been serving you for twenty years, and what do I get? Chronic gut issues and a wife who has cancer.” But I knew that was not the right response. No, I knew I was in Australia because God had sent us there. He sent us there at just the right time so that Rebekah’s cancer could be found early. If we had not gone to Australia for my gut issues, it might have been another year before Rebekah would have received those scans. “Thank you, Lord, for your perfect timing.”

A second lesson in this story is Elijah’s response to the Lord’s question (vv.10, 14)—the same selfish response is evident in both verses. Once again, the Lord is trying to get Elijah not only to think but to listen to his own response to God. Elijah doesn’t seem to get it. He doesn’t see or hear his own selfishness in his response. He is so focused on himself that he puts himself in his own category, “I alone am left.” It’s the I’m-the-only-one syndrome. What is interesting about this is that while God does not address this self-focus directly, He does address it indirectly at the end of the conversation in verse 18. God seems to say, “Oh, and by the way, I have 7,000 who have not bowed the knee to Baal … so, you’re not the only one.”

As 2025 went on and we continued through our doctor visits, procedures, and surgeries, I found myself slipping into the same I’m-the-only-one syndrome as Elijah. It happens so easily. As you sit around the house, unable to do much, it’s easy to start comparing yourself to others. “How many people are going through things like I’m going through?” Rebekah and I were trying to schedule our procedures and surgeries in such a way that one of us would be well enough to take care of our boys. It seemed to have no end, and I started to become self-focused.

God has used the ministry of other believers writing from a place of suffering to help me avoid the “I’m-the-only-one” syndrome. I’ve learned that suffering truly is spiritual warfare.¹ I’ve been impressed with the truth that “suffering is not a competitive sport.”² It’s not all about me but about running with endurance the race God chose for me and my family in 2025. It’s about keeping our eyes on Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith.