Former Republican Sen. Ben Sasse of Nebraska announced on Tuesday that he was diagnosed with “stage-four pancreatic cancer.” “This is a tough note to write, but since a bunch of you have started to suspect something, I’ll cut to the chase: Last week I was diagnosed with metastasized, stage-four pancreatic cancer, and am gonna die. Advanced pancreatic is nasty stuff; it’s a death sentence. But I already had a death sentence before last week too — we all do,” Sasse said. “I’m blessed with amazing siblings and half-a-dozen buddies that are genuinely brothers. As one of them put it, ‘Sure, you’re on the clock, but we’re all on the clock.’ Death is a wicked thief, and the b*stard pursues us all,” he continued. Friends- This is a tough note to write, but since a bunch of you have started to suspect something, I’ll cut to the chase: Last week I was diagnosed with metastasized, stage-four pancreatic cancer, and am gonna die. Advanced pancreatic is nasty stuff; it’s a death sentence.… — Ben Sasse (@BenSasse) December 23, 2025 Full post: Friends- This is a tough note to write, but since a bunch of you have started to suspect something, I’ll cut to the chase: Last week I was diagnosed with metastasized, stage-four pancreatic cancer, and am gonna die. Advanced pancreatic is nasty stuff; it’s a death sentence. But I already had a death sentence before last week too — we all do. I’m blessed with amazing siblings and half-a-dozen buddies that are genuinely brothers. As one of them put it, “Sure, you’re on the clock, but we’re all on the clock.” Death is a wicked thief, and the b*stard pursues us all. Still, I’ve got less time than I’d prefer. This is hard for someone wired to work and build, but harder still as a husband and a dad. I can’t begin to describe how great my people are. During the past year, as we’d temporarily stepped back from public life and built new family rhythms, Melissa and I have grown even closer — and that on top of three decades of the best friend a man could ever have. Seven months ago, Corrie was commissioned into the Air Force and she’s off at instrument and multi-engine rounds of flight school. Last week, Alex kicked butt graduating from college a semester early even while teaching gen chem, organic, and physics (she’s a freak). This summer, 14-year-old Breck started learning to drive. (Okay, we’ve been driving off-book for six years — but now we’ve got paper to make it street-legal.) I couldn’t be more grateful to constantly get to bear-hug this motley crew of sinners and saints. There’s not a good time to tell your peeps you’re now marching to the beat of a faster drummer — but the season of advent isn’t the worst. As a Christian, the weeks running up to Christmas are a time to orient our hearts toward the hope of what’s to come. Not an abstract hope in fanciful human goodness; not hope in vague hallmark-sappy spirituality; not a bootstrapped hope in our own strength (what foolishness is the evaporating-muscle I once prided myself in). Nope — often we lazily say “hope” when what we mean is “optimism.” To be clear, optimism is great, and it’s absolutely necessary, but it’s insufficient. It’s not the kinda thing that holds up when you tell your daughters you’re not going to walk them down the aisle. Nor telling your mom and pops they’re gonna bury their son. A well-lived life demands more reality — stiffer stuff. That’s why, during advent, even while still walking in darkness, we shout our hope — often properly with a gravelly voice soldiering through tears. Such is the calling of the pilgrim. Those who know ourselves to need a Physician should dang well look forward to enduring beauty and eventual fulfillment. That is, we hope in a real Deliverer — a rescuing God, born at a real time, in a real place. But the eternal city — with foundations and without cancer — is not yet. Remembering Isaiah’s prophecies of what’s to come doesn’t dull the pain of current sufferings. But it does put it in eternity’s perspective: “When we’ve been there 10,000 years…We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise.” I’ll have more to say. I’m not going down without a fight. One sub-part of God’s grace is found in the jawdropping advances science has made the past few years in immunotherapy and more. Death and dying aren’t the same — the process of dying is still something to be lived. We’re zealously embracing a lot of gallows humor in our house, and I’ve pledged to do my part to run through the irreverent tape. But for now, as our family faces the reality of treatments, but more importantly as we celebrate Christmas, we wish you peace: “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned….For to us a son is given” (Isaiah 9). With great gratitude, and with gravelly-but-hopeful voices, Ben — and the Sasses The 53-year-old represented Nebraska in the U.S. Senate from 2015 to 2023 before resigning to become president of the University of Florida from February 2023 to July 2024. Former Republican senator Ben Sasse of Nebraska said he was diagnosed with terminal cancer and suggested he would not have long to live. https://t.co/Wrcajrie32 — The Washington Post (@washingtonpost) December 23, 2025 Fox News has more: Last year he stepped down from the helm of the university, pointing to his wife’s epilepsy diagnosis. “My wife Melissa’s recent epilepsy diagnosis and a new batch of memory issues have been hard, but we’re facing it together,” he noted in explaining his move last year. “Our two wonderful daughters are in college, but our youngest is just turning 13. Gator Nation needs a president who can keep charging hard, Melissa deserves a husband who can pull his weight, and my kids need a dad who can be home many more nights. I need to step back and rebuild more stable household systems for a time.” Vice President JD Vance was among those who responded to Sasse’s grim cancer announcement on Tuesday. “I’m very sorry to hear this Ben. May God bless you and your family,” Vance wrote. “Devastating news but an incredible message from Senator Sasse. My best wishes to Ben and his family. A great colleague and even better man,” Sen. Todd Young (R-IN) commented. Devastating news but an incredible message from Senator Sasse. My best wishes to Ben and his family. A great colleague and even better man. https://t.co/PGj7z0ESKf — Senator Todd Young (@SenToddYoung) December 23, 2025 “God bless you and your family, Ben. May you have strength and health for many years to come,” Sen. Mike Lee (R-UT) said. God bless you and your family, Ben. May you have strength and health for many years to come. https://t.co/G8bRMnlL4T — Mike Lee (@SenMikeLee) December 23, 2025 “My friend Sen. Sasse is a good man. Becky and I are heartbroken to hear of his illness. Please keep the entire Sasse family in your prayers,” Sen. John Kennedy (R-LA) said. My friend Sen. Sasse is a good man. Becky and I are heartbroken to hear of his illness. Please keep the entire Sasse family in your prayers. https://t.co/LZhteqZ2c2 — John Kennedy (@SenJohnKennedy) December 23, 2025 Your thoughts? The Hill noted: Sasse had stayed on at the university to teach classes at its Hamilton Center. Prior to his tenure in the Senate, he was a professor at the University of Texas, served as an assistant secretary at the Department of Health and Human Services and was president of Midland University in his home state. The ex-Nebraska senator is not the only upper chamber figure to be diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The late Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid (D-Nev.) died from it in 2021 after a four-year battle.