an unexpected diagnosis and an unusual truth

I’m not sure what I was expecting as I sat in front of the doctors. Something like  “eat more veggies and less Chik-fil-A.” Or “do more exercise and don’t sit cross-legged so much.”  But I was not prepared for words like “Thyroid markers. Obvious diagnosis. Autoimmune disease. No cure. Ongoing treatment. Close monitoring. No cheating. Life long…"

There was this initial rush of relief to have a name and reason for my symptoms, but then it hit me: I was sick. I needed care. My body needed help. It will for the rest of my life. That’s what the doctors were saying all slow, and gentle, and kind. And ya’ll? I hated that. Because you see, I’m not the weak one. I’m not the patient. I’m strong. Able to handle things alone. Never been gravely ill, never a broken bone or even a faint. I do healthy. I do fit. Ask my close friends. And I’m the helper. I’ve got a degree in that…

And now this diagnosis. Even though it’s not unique to me or life threatening (and won’t be as long as I address it.) Even though others are in the midst of much greater and graver health situations…medication now calls me home twice a day. Nutritional labels must be read and heeded. If I slip up, I pay for days. The doctor won’t let me cancel appointments. In other words, it’s always in front me now. There’s no avoiding it. I’m not as strong as I thought I was.  

And it’s made me think a lot about this man I know. Prolific writer. World-wide audience. Powerful relationship with God. The strongest Christian I know. But I often forget that he’s quite ill. Physically weak and unlovely because of it. His disease is apparently not curable. It’s ongoing. Maybe even life-long. It affects him every day. He can’t avoid it. It’s a constant reminder: he's not so strong. But he writes about this “thorn in the flesh” with words like glory, rejoice, and pleasure. Of course this man is the Apostle Paul writing to the believers at Corinth. The weakness he’s describing is obviously physical. The strength he’s describing is obviously spiritual. And he writes it three times in the passage: he glories in his infirmities. Then he tells us why.

And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for you: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

He rejoices because physical weakness activates the grace of God.

He rejoices because physical weakness provides the perfect setting for spiritual strength.

And when I read these words, my whole perspective changes. Because at the very root of my disgust over this disease (along with some serious pride) is a fear that it will hinder my spiritual life. That it will keep me from good works I want to do for God and those around me. That the constant care I have to take for my body now will overshadow my ability to deal with life spiritually. That this thing will become the only lens through which I see. 

But Paul is saying the more limited we are physically the more we may well soar spiritually. There's a sufficiency of power resting on us. And his own life bears that dynamic out. Consider his testimony and legacy. Physical limitations? Yes. Unlimited grace? No doubt.   

So I let it work its way deep inside me. This truth that in my infirmity, I may find God's power unrestrained and enough. This truth that when I am weak, I may well be very strong.

An unusual truth needed for an unexpected diagnosis.

Beth

and God will laugh

Dark. I would call them dark.

And with darkness comes uncertainty--this blanket of uncertainty outside me and this gnawing insecurity within me.

But it’s not quite dark enough to shroud the danger. To hide that the evil one is on the move. To catch a glimpse of his unmistakable hand behind the wicked dark of this present world. Darkness cannot conceal the echo of his roar, nor completely hide the tragic remains of his devouring. We see them every day; they surround us in heaps. We read them in print. We hear them from the radio. We see them on the morning news. And the evening news. And all the between.

These are dark times.

The wicked one is moving. And he’s still bent on destroying what God made in His own image. Bent on eclipsing the light with his dark.

And we who are the light (because we have believed that Christ is the one true Light) feel the pressing darkness most keenly. The plotting of wicked men. The dimming of righteousness on the public and private stage. The irrational social antagonism against Christianity. The slow but steady limiting of religious freedoms. The open persecution just a body of water away from us. The evil one works through the wicked to snuff out the right. It has always been this way.

And it’s dark. And we feel the imminent danger. As if a sword has been drawn and pointed. As if a bow has been aimed and bent. 

And we wonder, where is God in this?

Psalm 37 tells us exactly where God is.

He is at ease in His Heaven. Unworried. Not anxious. Not fretting. He’s not surprised. Not scrambling to regain the upper hand. He never lost it. We look up in this Psalm to find Him…laughing.

He’s laughing because He knows. He knows the moment the wicked act to destroy the righteous, they will be the ones destroyed. They seal their fate. It becomes like that of their ruler Satan. A broken power.  An eternal judgment.  Like a sword plunged into their own hearts. Like a serpent’s crushed head. They lose the moment they think they’ve won.

And the righteous? In that same moment, they are swept up. Held strong out of reach from the sword and bow. Protected. Preserved. If they stumble, it is not a headlong crash. It cannot be; God is holding their hand.

So God laughs at the dark. Because He knows it will not thwart His plan. This destruction of wickedness and preservation of righteousness will come to pass. Not a shadow of uncertainty falls from His Heaven. He is over all. And He is at ease.

So we find ourselves relaxing. In the midst of this getting-darker world, we cast off our irrational fears and gnawing insecurities. They become a silly notion as we hold them up to the bright light of solid truth.  The evil will not win. It has already lost. The wicked will not utterly destroy the righteous. Their fate is sealed. We may well laugh as our Creator is laughing. And like a warm dayspring we hold the truth within our hearts. We will be held up. The sword and bow will be broken.

Beth

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The wicked plots against the righteous and gnashes at him with his teeth.

The Lord laughs at him, for He sees his day is coming.

The wicked have drawn the sword and bent their bow to cast down the afflicted and the needy, to slay those who are upright in conduct.

Their sword will enter their own heart, and their bows will be broken.

Better is the little of the righteous than the abundance of many wicked.

For the arms of the wicked will be broken, but the LORD sustains the righteous.

…When (he) falls, he will not be hurled headlong, because the LORD is the ONE who holds his hand. (Ps. 37)