Former Senator Ben Sasse Diagnosed With Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer, Reveals ‘Death Sentence’

Former United States Senator from Nebraska, Ben Sasseannounced that he has stage four pancreatic cancer and has been sentenced to death for his disease.

He served in the Senate from 2015-2023 before leaving to become President of the University of Florida. He resigned from that position in 2024 as his wife suffers from epilepsy. Notably, in 2021, he was one of only seven Republican senators who voted for impeachment Donald Trump during his second trial after treason in the capitol.

Now, he has revealed that at the age of 53, he has been given a cancer diagnosis.

Read on to find out more…

In part, he wrote, “I was diagnosed with metastatic, stage-four pancreatic cancer, and I’m going to die. An advanced pancreas is a terrible thing; it’s a death sentence. But I had a death sentence before last week and – we all do.”

He added, “I have less time than I would choose. This is hard for someone wired to work and build, but even harder as a husband and father. I can’t begin to describe how great our people are.”

Read his entire note below…

friends-
This is a difficult note to write, but since a lot of you have started to suspect something, I will follow up: Last week I was diagnosed with metastatic cancer, stage four, and I am going to die.
An enlarged pancreas is a bad thing; it is a death sentence. But I had a death sentence before last week and – we all do.
I am blessed with amazing siblings and half-a-dozen buddies who are literally my brothers. As one of them put it, “Sure, you’re on the clock, but we’re all on the clock.” Death is an evil thief, and the goblin chases us all away.
However, I have less time than I would choose. This is difficult for a person who is wired to work and build, but it is even more difficult as a husband and father. I cannot begin to describe how great our people are. Over the past year, as we’ve taken a break from social life and created a new family rhythm, Melissa and I have become even closer – and more than thirty years of the best friend a person can have. Seven months ago, Corrie was commissioned into the Air Force and is in the flight school’s multi-engine flight school. Last week, Alex kicked off college a semester early even teaching gen chem, organic, and physics (he’s a freak). This summer, 14-year-old Breck started learning to drive. (Okay, we’ve been driving outside for six years – but now we have the paperwork to make it road legal.) I couldn’t be more grateful to always get to hug this group of sinners and saints.
There’s never a good time to tell your friends you’re now marching to the beat of a fast drummer – but the coming season isn’t too bad. As a Christian, the weeks leading up to Christmas are a time to direct our hearts to the hope of what is to come.
It is not an abstract hope in the goodness of man; do not hope in an unclear spiritual situation; not the hope bound by our strength (what folly the vaporous muscles I once boasted of). No – we usually lazily say “hope” when we mean “hope.” To be clear, optimism is great, and indeed necessary, but not sufficient. It’s not a gentle thing to hold back when you tell your daughters you’re not going to walk them down the aisle. Don’t tell your mom and pops that they are going to bury their son.
A life well lived requires more reality – solid things. That is why, at the time of arrival, even if we are still walking in the dark, we call out our hope – often appropriately with a heavy voice filled with tears.
Such is the calling of pilgrims. Those who know they need a Doctor should look forward to lasting beauty and ultimate satisfaction. That is, we hope for a real Redeemer – a God who delivers, born in a real time, in a real place. But the eternal city – with foundations and without cancer – has not yet arrived.
Remembering Isaiah’s prophecies of what is to come does not dull the pain of present suffering. But it puts you in eternal perspective:
“When we have been there for 10,000 years… We have no less days to sing God’s praise.”
I will have more to say. I’m not going down without a fight. A small part of God’s grace is found in the jaw-dropping advances science has made in the past few years in immunotherapy and more. Death and dying are not the same – the process of dying is still something to be lived. We eagerly embrace a lot of vaccination humor in our house, and I’m committed to doing my part to pass the rude tape.
But for now, as our family faces the reality of treatment, but more importantly as we celebrate Christmas, we wish for peace: “People who walk in darkness have seen a great light, for those who live in the land of darkness the light has come out….For we have been given a son” (Isaiah 9).
With great thanks, and with hard-but-hopeful words,
Ben – and the Sasses