Skip to main content

An Overdue Letter to MercyMe

When I saw a few social media posts this morning reminding me that it’s #ThankfulThursday, I decided it was time to write a long overdue letter and share it with all of you.



Dear MercyMe:

I’ve wanted to write this letter for a few years, but never made it a priority. But after all that’s happened, I can’t not write to you.

Thank you for writing the songs you do. I know many of them are born out of your own trials and tribulations. I’m truly sorry for the pain you’ve experienced, but I’m incredibly grateful that the Lord is using you so mightily to help others through their own struggles, including my own.

Your song “Even If” was released the year my younger son was diagnosed with many more mental illnesses, when the first diagnoses were overwhelming enough. I resisted the song at first, because I didn’t want to / couldn’t / wasn’t ready to admit that there might be an Even If kind of answer to all my fervent prayers for him. But reality finally sunk in, and I found the Hope in your lyrics. I know God is able and I know He can heal my son. But even if God chooses not to heal him this side of Heaven, my Hope remains in Him because I know there’s a bigger picture. The song remains one of my favorite songs of all time.

Every time my son hurts himself or hurts others, the words of “We Win” speak to me and seems personal in one specific random way: the way you sing the word “towel” sounds like “tile” which is the way my son has always pronounced that word since he was a toddler. When you sing not to give up, not to toss in the towel, I feel like you’re speaking directly to him, to us, as you remind me that we do indeed win.

And then last year, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. During my lengthy commutes to and from treatments all year, I blasted the Lifer CD and sang my heart out every single mile. I danced along to “Happy Dance,” because the lyrics reminded me once again that regardless of my circumstances, or diagnosis or outcome, that we do indeed have a reason to get up! I was able to go into that chemotherapy ward each time with a smile on my face and a dance in my heart because your songs filled me with His love, His grace, His joy, His peace.

“The Ghost” took me by surprise and as I listened to it the first time, tears streamed down my face. The line, “I’m no longer afraid,” just slapped me in the face – in the best possible way. I’ve always been a medical scaredy-cat, but your words reminded me time and again that I didn’t have to be afraid. I’m grateful to say, now that I’m on the other side of cancer, that I honestly had NO FEAR all year long, not one ounce. None. God was with me, He carried me, He strengthened me, He sustained me, He covered me, He comforted me. He gave me an indescribable peace and even an inexplicable joy as I walked that entire journey.

Your songs, your message, your ministry were a HUGE part of that journey, so even though words aren’t adequate to express my immense gratitude for the power, for the relevancy, for the Hope conveyed through your music, I still had to let you know. Thank you for doing what you do.

Your forever fan,

Tracy Ruckman

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Photo Shoot for a Cause

Last month, Advent Health honored me by asking if I would be one of their "faces" during their "Pink Porch" campaign for Breast Awareness Month. They arranged for a photo shoot and an interview, and said I could invite anyone I wanted to be in the photos with me.  Without hesitation, I suggested Jess Bolton, my daughter-in-law, and Felicia Trawick, my nurse navigator-turned-friend. These two were with me every day of my cancer journey, either in person or by phone. God knew what I needed during that time because Jess and Felicia kept me laughing, and we're still at it, as you can tell from the photos below. The lovely and patient photographer, Emily Long, had us talk to each other, and to look at each other, and we just got silly. (Please note: these photos are the only time you'll see me NOT talking with my hands! Such a surprise to all of us!) It was a windy but fun day, and Zach, my son and Jess's husband, surprised and blessed me by coming, too.  Dur...

Guest Post: No Time to Sit and Worry by V. Ronnie Laughlin

Earlier this year, TMP Books put out a call for submissions for two anthologies, requesting stories from cancer warriors/survivors, and from cancer caregivers. We received several submissions, but not enough to fill either book, so for now, the books are postponed. When I notified the writers who had submitted, one of them suggested running the stories on my blog, and I loved the idea. My goal was to share people’s stories, to give encouragement and hope to other cancer warriors and caregivers, so why wait? I’m sharing the stories each Tuesday, in the order they were submitted. Today, I welcome author V. Ronnie Laughlin who shares her atypical breast cancer journey from the Middle East, during the pandemic. No Time to Sit and Worry As I held the specimen cup in my hand with the breast biopsy sample glistening inside; I looked at it and it looked at me. It looked like a hydra, the long tentacled invertebrate with a gelatinous body. I do not know what possessed me to ask my Radiologist,...

Guest Post: 28 Years and Counting by Carrie Leeth

Earlier this year, TMP Books put out a call for submissions for two anthologies, requesting stories from cancer warriors/survivors, and from cancer caregivers. We received several submissions, but not enough to fill either book, so for now, the books are postponed. When I notified the writers who had submitted, one of them suggested running the stories on my blog, and I loved the idea. My goal was to share people’s stories, to give encouragement and hope to other cancer warriors and caregivers, so why wait? I’m sharing the stories each Tuesday, in the order they were submitted. Today, I welcome my sister, Carrie Leeth, to the blog, sharing her story as a lifelong caregiver: 28 Years and Counting In 1994, my father had been diagnosed with throat cancer and had been battling this for some time, losing weight, not able to work. He had a feeding tube placed before he started taking radiation treatments two times a day, for six weeks, so my brother and I took turns driving him to treatment...