I don't talk about my health issues very often. Or with very many people. For lots of reasons.
Not the least of which is that I have more questions than answers, both in terms of actual diagnosis as well as my heart's processing of it all.
So this post feels like a tremendous risk for me.
It felt frighteningly risky when I began writing it a month ago. And it feels even more so today as it goes live online.
So I'm holding my breath. And doing it afraid.
Because maybe my questions will help someone else. Even if it's only to let them know they're not the only one asking...
... ... ...
I believe You're my Healer I believe You are all I need I believe You're my Portion I believe You're more than enough for me Jesus, You're all I need
That song gets me every single time...
I have a love/hate relationship with it because I always feel challenged to sing the words honestly. Even more so this Sunday morning, because...
It's a high pain day.
I battle chronic health issues, some days worse than others. Today is one of those days. And today, the aches have settled angrily in my hands and arms.
Since I woke up, I've been subconsciously massaging my hands. Rubbing my arms. Trying hard to find some small bit of relief however possible.
And then that song starts.
You walk with me through fire And heal all my disease I trust in You...
Oh my heart...
I'm left whispering that simple prayer that seems to be all I can muster at times like this: I believe, Lord. Help me in my unbelief.
So I lift my sore arms Heavenward and declare -- maybe mostly to myself -- "I believe You're my healer... I trust in You... Nothing is impossible for You..."
My heart wrestles through the tension of trusting that God heals, despite the fact that He may never heal me here on earth.
I've seen Him heal. I've watched it with my own eyes. I've seen Him do it through my own hands.
I've witnessed cataract-clouded eyes opening, lame men dancing, deaf ears hearing for the first time. I've experienced scores of miraculous healings. And yet, every day, I live with pain.
So my heart continues to wrestle through the tension of faith.
How do I reconcile what I believe to be true with what I actually experience everyday?
I don't know that I can.
Maybe all I can do is choose to keep wrestling. To worship Him anyway, with my pain-ridden hands held high. To acknowledge with honesty, "God, I don't get it... but I want to trust You. I need to trust You. Help me trust You."
Wincing in worship.
It isn't mine to understand. It is only mine to trust. Even in the pain. And the uncertainty. And the heartache.
I'm not called to understand the mind of God. I'm only called to pursue His heart.
And to trust that ultimately His heart is for my good and His glory, no matter what.
So even though I may not get it, I want Him to still get me.
All of me.
High pain days, wrestling heart, unanswered questions, and all...