Scott Blakeman was 20 years old when he was diagnosed with a brain tumor. It came out of nowhere.

Scott’s vision had been fading in and out, but he thought it was stress related. If only. An ophthalmologist ordered an MRI after discovering Scott’s optic nerve was badly swollen. But his eye wasn’t the problem: there was a fist-sized tumor in his brain.

Scott returned home after getting the news and went to his room in a daze. When his dad came in and asked Scott if he was OK, Scott said yes, but his dad knew it wasn’t true.

Scott followed his dad into the hallway and gave him a hug that lasted ten minutes as he wept in his father’s arms. That night, Scott laid on the floor and felt the weight of God’s presence like he never had before. And in that space with the Lord, he sang the lyrics to the song “In the Hands of God”: “In the hands of God we stand tall, hands that are mighty to deliver, giving us freedom.”

God eventually healed Scott, using a 14-hour brain surgery, 30 radiation treatments, and a whole lot of grace. And for five years, he was in the clear, until he started feeling a nagging pain in his hip in 2016. A full body scan revealed the worst: cancer had spread throughout his body.

Scott immediately started treatment, which went on for seven years. But in July 2023, Scott learned his cancer treatments were coming to an end. The cancer was spreading too rapidly, and his body was too weak to endure any more treatment.

At 34 years of age, Scott had just weeks to live. 

Cracking Jokes About Cancer

I met Scott at work this year when he was still getting treatments. One day over lunch, we talked about his cancer journey. I was amazed by his calm demeanor, but particularly his sense of humor about the whole thing.

“How has having cancer changed the way you live?” I asked.

“Well, I definitely don’t have a retirement plan,” he said with a smile.

I was fascinated by this young, healthy-looking guy in his early 30s—happily married, loving his job, surrounded by good friends—all while living with the reality that he probably wouldn’t make it to 40.

I’ve spent an inordinate amount of my life being plagued by a fear of death. It started in high school when I lost a friend in a tragic accident. While I’m freer from that fear than I’ve ever been, I still haven’t shaken the persistent awareness that life could be over at any time.

Scott, meanwhile, was sitting in front of me cracking jokes about having a terminal illness. (He nicknamed his biggest brain tumor “Boomer the Tumor,” and when the tumors started multiplying, he called the new ones “baby Boomers.”) It was a miracle in and of itself how Scott’s faith in Christ gave him the strength to laugh at the grave as he traveled toward it.

Tears of Joy

Shortly after Scott went on hospice this summer, he and I talked about what life looks like when you’re so close to death.

“I’ve cried a lot,” Scott said. “I love living life and want to be around for a while. To have that cut short is sad. But most of my tears haven’t come from sadness.” Those tears, he said, are instead “tears of joy and thankfulness. It’s the joy of living an abundant life.”

“How do you—in excruciating pain, depending on others to care for you—call this an abundant life?”

“I’ve had such an abundant life, especially with cancer,” he said. “I’m thankful that Jesus has chosen me to bear this cross. I don’t wish this on people, but I do wish Christians would be more open to taking joy when they face trials and tribulations. We can see these burdens as opportunities to grow closer to Christ and be more like Him.”

“God works in big and powerful ways, but most of the time, it’s through the slog of mundane life,” he said. “It’s through the pain of disease, broken relationships, a hard job. God is right there, reaching out, saying, ‘Come to Me.’ We just have to respond.”

“I have death working its way through me. Cancer is squishing my organs. It’s multiplying. There’s no medicine to stop it—and I’ve never felt more alive. That’s what abundant life is.”

Scott was coughing as he tried to talk to me, and he looked five years older than he did just weeks before—but he glowed with the joy of the Gospel. He was preaching a sermon, and his life was the illustration.

Death is Scary

I have a friend whose husband is anxious about his health. He worries every week that he has cancer.

“What would you say to that man?” I asked.

Scott’s answer surprised me.

“In Hebrews 2:15, it says Christ has delivered us ‘from slavery to the fear of death.’ He didn’t deliver us from the fear of death. That’s a natural thing. We’re made to live in our bodies. They crave oxygen, and the idea of having that taken away is scary. But we don’t have to be slaves to that fear.”

“So, how do you deal with that fear? How do you stay out of slavery to it?”

“All I need to know is that I’ll be with Christ. So, for now, I’m just embracing the inevitable and not being overly afraid or letting fear dictate my life. For people who are afraid of dying, if anything, let it help you understand the preciousness of life and the gift that it is, and use your time wisely.”

Scott’s Dying Goodbye Party

In Scott’s final weeks, a steady flow of friends and family from around the country visited him. They knew it was probably their last time being with him on this side of Heaven. The hugs were longer, the tears flowed freely, and people said what they needed to say.

I asked if it was awkward to suddenly be treated so differently. 

“Not at all. It’s been humbling to have these friends gather around me and let me know I’m loved,” Scott said. “It’s a healthy, holy way of living in the moment and seeing people’s love as a gift of God. It’s His grace and mercy in action. What a privilege and honor. It’s part of what real joy is in suffering.”

Scott wanted others to experience that kind of joy and affirmation too.

“I’ve had this crazy idea,” he said. “I would love to have a Scott’s Dying Goodbye Party, and just let everyone say the nice things they want to say and what I meant to them. That’s happening organically for me, but more people need to have appreciation days, whether they’re sick or not, to be encouraged. It’s probably lengthened my life.”

Songs of Joy

On August 21, 2023, Scott left this world, and in his final moments, he was surrounded by friends, family, and his devoted wife, Carey.

“To the end, Scott pointed others to Christ,” said Carey. “The people who were blessed to know him will forever remember how he carried his suffering when they walk through trials in their own lives.”

Hundreds of those people crowded into the pews of Scott’s church for his funeral. They celebrated his life, wept, worshiped, and laughed. They also sang the Gospel through the lyrics of the Bifrost Arts’ song, “Psalm 126”:

Although we are weeping
Lord help us keep sowing
The seeds of Your kingdom
For the day You will reap them
Your sheaves we will carry
Lord please do not tarry
All those who sow weeping
Will go out with songs of joy

For all those who live in slavery to the fear of death or are simply facing circumstances beyond their control, you’re not alone. Remember Scott’s encouragement: “God is right there, reaching out, saying, ‘Come to Me.’ We just have to respond.”

Many thanks to Carey Blakeman for her contributions to this post.