There are cancers that scare oncologists. Pancreatic cancer is one of them.
The five-year survival rate for pancreatic cancer is less than 12%. For many patients, the disease is not caught until it has already spread. Treatment options are limited. The word "cure" is almost never used. It is, by nearly every medical measure, one of the deadliest diagnoses a human being can receive.
George Abbott of Florida received that diagnosis.
The Diagnosis
When George learned he had pancreatic cancer, he understood the statistics. He was not a man prone to denial. He knew what pancreatic cancer meant. He had likely known people who had died from it — because nearly everyone who gets it, does.
The medical conversation was stark. Treatment would be attempted, but the doctors were careful with their language. They did not promise outcomes. They outlined options. The gap between what medicine could offer and what George needed was vast.
The Church Goes to War
George Abbott was part of a church community in Florida. And when the diagnosis hit, that community did not respond with sympathy cards and casseroles alone. They went to war.
The prayer was intense. Specific. Sustained. This was not a single mention during Sunday morning announcements. This was daily, fervent intercession — the kind of prayer that James describes, the kind that "availeth much." Prayer chains. Prayer meetings. People getting on their knees at home, in their cars, in the middle of their workday, asking God to do something that medicine said was almost impossible.
George's family prayed. His friends prayed. People who had only heard about his diagnosis thirdhand prayed. The prayer network expanded outward like ripples from a stone thrown into water.
The Treatment
George received medical treatment alongside the prayer. This is an important detail. Faith did not replace medicine in George Abbott's story. Faith accompanied medicine. The two walked together — chemotherapy in one hand, prayer in the other.
George showed up for every appointment. He took every medication. He submitted to every procedure. And while the doctors fought the cancer from the outside, God's people fought it from the inside.
Complete Remission
George Abbott's pancreatic cancer went into complete remission.
Let that sentence settle. Pancreatic cancer. Complete remission. The combination of those words is so rare that it makes oncologists pause. George's medical team called the result extraordinary — because it was. The statistical likelihood of his outcome was vanishingly small.
George had a different word for it. He called it God.
What This Means for You
Pancreatic cancer is terrifying. There is no point in pretending otherwise. The statistics are devastating. If you or someone you love has been diagnosed with it, you are likely looking at numbers that offer very little hope.
But George Abbott's story exists. And it exists not as a statistical anomaly to be explained away, but as a testimony that the God who created the pancreas is not limited by what that organ can or cannot do.
Pray. Let your church pray. Pursue every medical option available. And hold both faith and medicine together, because God works through both.
Is anything too hard for the Lord? George Abbott knows the answer. And it is no.
