Category: patience

When God Doesn’t Heal You

“We like to talk about having the faith to be healed – what about the faith to be sick?”

Mike Mason

God heals. Of that I have no doubt. We have many promises and see so much actual healing in Scripture. Jesus’ ministry would connect with hundreds of people who would be physically touched. The Lord would pass the baton on to His Church. We’re called to “lay hands on the sick,” (James 5:14-15).

But not everyone who is sick will receive physical healing. Even those who were active in ministry knew sickness.

In the second episode of season 3 of “The Chosen,” Little James, who we’ve seen walks with a limp, comes to Jesus after He commissions the Apostles. He tells him he finds it hard to believe that he will be healing people, given that Jesus hasn’t healed him.

“Do you want to be healed?” asks Jesus.

“Yes, of course,” James says, “if that’s possible. Why haven’t you?” he asks Jesus—again, a question some of us would’ve asked.

“Because I trust you,” Jesus says. “Little James. Precious Little James. I need you to listen to me very carefully, because what I am going to say defines your whole life to this point and will define the rest of your life. Do you understand?”

Jesus tells James that he will heal many people, and they will have a good story to tell.

“To know how to proclaim that you still praise God in spite of this—to know how to focus on all that matters, so much more than the body—to show people that you can be patient with your suffering here on Earth, because you know you’ll spend eternity with no suffering—not everyone can understand that. How many people do you think the Father and I trust this with? Not many.”

“But the others,” James says, “they are so much more … stronger, better at this.”

“James, I love you,” Jesus says, “but I don’t want to hear that ever again.”

“I know how easy it is to say the Psalm of David, that I am beautifully and wonderfully made, but it doesn’t make this any easier,” says James, begins to weep. “It doesn’t make me feel like any less of a burden.”

“When you pass from this earth,” Jesus says to James, “and you meet your Father in Heaven, where Isaiah promises you will leap like a deer, your reward will be great. So hold on a little longer. And when you discover yourself finding true strength because of your weakness, when you do great things in my Name in spite of this, the impact will last for generations. Do you understand?”

James cries, and says, “Yes. Thank you, Master.”

I believe that there are two truths that every Christian can count on. These are solid, and completely trustworthy. They are forever fixed and will never change.

One: God strengthens every believer.

“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10

Two: God will ultimately heal every believer.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Revelation 21:4

“I will trust Him. Whatever, wherever I am, I can never be thrown away. If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him; in perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him; if I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him. My sickness, or perplexity, or sorrow may be necessary causes of some great end, which is quite beyond us. He does nothing in vain.”

     John Henry Newman  

Cutting a Rose (Death)

There’s been a death in my family. A young man just 24 years old passed a week ago. He was the only child of my aunt and uncle, and they are rightfully devastated. The whole thing is pain on steroids–as awful as it gets. Shock and grief is saturating our family.

We’re all asking why.

A young man who’s just learning how to live is gone. He was in the springtime of his life. His faith in Jesus was just beginning, and he was starting to sort things out, just like we all do. He is gone, but we’ll meet him again.

“Who gathered this flower?’ The gardener answered, ‘The Master.’ And his fellow servant held his peace.”

I wonder if the shock will ever wear off. I suppose it will, but it will come little by little. Jesus must have time to heal and hold in the meantime. He promised us.

Grief on this level defies words of human comfort and consolation. I am frustrated to counsel pain on this level. I’m ashamed when I do. I keep my mouth shut and that’s not easy for me.

There’s terrible guilt, anger and isolation.

The Holy Spirit is strongly emphasizing prayer now. I realize that only He can heal, guiding their suffering and healing to an outcome they can’t see. I know, I am certain that Jesus will come and touch his parents, but perhaps our intercession is what it will take to make this happen.

We must stand against Satan and push him away.

In the olden days, medicine was dispensed in powder form, not pills. The pharmacist would measure out a powder to give to the sick. In a sense, this is what God does. He carefully gives what is needed and not a grain more than necessary. I believe this.

Please don’t condemn yourself for speaking trite and inadequate words. You must rest in God’s work now, and realize that only He can heal and comfort pain and anger on this level. Job’s friends were at their best when they said nothing.

Sometimes all you can do is pray fervently. And that is enough.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Revelation 21:7

Practicing Pain

How do you handle pain as a believer? What do you do when you want to curl up in a ball and want to die? Understand that pain isn’t in God’s original plan. We who are hurt have got to be very much aware of this.

There are many different kinds of pain: post-surgical, chronic, and self-inflicted. The pain of separation or divorce or misguided children can get pretty destructive. There’s the pain of misunderstanding or something inflicted by a bad relationship with someone.

There are far too many possibilities and far too much hurt to go around.

At times you can’t even imagine how you’re going to handle another day. Sometimes the doctors have the arrogance to tell you that you need to get used to it because it’s never going to get better. So now you must sort things out–and apart from a miracle, it’s only going to get worse. I understand this. Truly.

Here are ten thoughts that come to my mind. They’re not in any order. (Maybe they should be? IDK.)

One

Treat false humility as a worse disease than you’re facing physically. You’ll be very tempted to milk your pain for all its worth. You’ll try to take advantage of others, and you’ll put yourself in the best possible light. But pain and ego were never meant to mix–especially as a disciple of Jesus. Renounce them now. Turn from it constantly.

Two

Never find fault with God. He’s not to blame whatever the evil one tells you. Our Father loves you deeply, and He will carry you all the way through this. Satan always tells lies. You must take a stand against him. Put on your armor! Super-glue Ephesians 6:19-18 into your thought life–and never let go!

Three

You can never lose track of a very real eternity. My special verse is Revelation 21:4, “And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” Please keep this front and center. It’ll help a lot!

Four

You’ll start to learn to see others differently. There’ll always be another who has it worse. Think about them, and all that they must deal with. It helps a lot. Also, you’ll discover that your pain will be like new glasses for a strange source of spiritual astigmatism. You’ll see things far more clearly now.

Five

Your walk will deepen. You’ll learn to be joyful when all you want to do is cry. The littlest things become a cause of great joy. God values your singing more now, especially when you’re singing out of excruciating pain. The Word, and worship music, all seem to be more meaningful. Surround yourself with music (and preaching too), anything that builds you up inside.

Six

You’ll discover the art of weaving your pain into your discipleship. Sleepless nights become diving boards for prayer, reading, and worship. You’ll change and deepen, and that’s always good. Also, be open to new ways of ministry. Look for doors to open up. (They may be different than you think.)

Seven

You’ll discover that there can be solace in medications and treatment. I know that this, but sometimes a handful of Motrin or other pain meds will be a real relief. Also, listen closely to your doctor and therapist. Pray for them, pray they’ll have special wisdom for your situation.

Eight

You start to see that you’ll never be able to do this alone. God is giving you a gift. He will give you insight. You’ll also start to see people less in terms of ‘rank’ and more in the light of what they’ve had to suffer. As you begin to see pain and sorrow as odd friends, they’ll often show you who your true brothers and sisters are.

Nine

You’ll understand the Father’s love in a new way. Like an old-style pharmacist who measured out powder instead of pills, we find God measures out exactly what we need. He never gives you a single grain of medicine more than is necessary. Trust him. All that happens to you has come through nail-pierced hands. He understands pain and He understands you.

Ten

You must learn to laugh again. Little things become a source of real joy. The smallest things will make you laugh. Get a joke book, that may help, especially when you get sour and withdrawn. “A cheerful disposition is good for your health; gloom and doom will leave you bone-tired” (Pro. 17:22, MSG).

(This list is not complete. I apologize, there are many others that really should be added, but maybe this is a start.)

Also–just one more (number 11 maybe?) Be easy on yourself. You’ll find that you’ve much to learn. And that’s okay. Just open up your heart, and look to Jesus.

We must be aware that our pain allows us access to His careful grace. Our trials, properly received, endow us with special abilities.

They’re now our new ‘superpowers.’ 😁

You should learn to embrace your pain and your sorrows, and not many can do this. Our own suffering comes to us at too high of a cost to us. They’re precious and way too valuable to neglect. Squeeze them and extract all that they can give.

Here’s a quote that has always sustained me. It’s really good for me to remember, and it may help you.

“Some Christians are called to endure a disproportionate amount of suffering. Such Christians are a spectacle of grace to the church, like flaming bushes unconsumed, and cause us to ask, like Moses: Why is this bush not burned up?'”

–John Newton

Exodus 3:2-3

A good site is Joni Eareckson Tada. She’s a believer who has suffered a great deal and has a ministry to the afflicted, Joniandfriends.org.

I have another site you might want to checkout: alaskabibleteacher.com.

Standing With Her in the Rain

standingaloneintherain1

“Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ.”

Galatians 6:2, NLT

By Lisa Schubert, Guest Author

Samantha issued commands to the person on the other end of the line. When she hung up, the rant continued against our church, our staff, the weather, and this meal that would serve as her Thanksgiving dinner. I had to let her go mid-rant, but not before reminding her that I would keep her in my prayers.

Samantha approached me outside the church on Thanksgiving morning with her hair disheveled and her coat covered with dirt smudges and raindrops. She demanded to borrow my cell phone to find if the Thanksgiving dinner she had requested from a charitable organization would be ready for pick-up in an hour. I was in a hurry. I needed to be inside preparing to lead worship. I begrudgingly let her borrow my phone, but I insisted on dialing the number myself and standing with her in the gentle rain.

Cross-in-the-Rain-

My encounters with Samantha have continued over the past few months. She’s almost always confused, angry, and paranoid. She tells stories about growing up with another member of our staff, who never met her until recently. It’s hard to know how to respond to Samantha.

A friend called me recently to ask if our church had any resources for helping congregations to welcome those who struggle with mental illness. I pointed her in a few directions, including the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) at www.nami.org. Even as I offered her the information, I felt uneasy. Connecting with those who have mental illnesses is a complex, difficult journey.

It was raining again on Monday when I saw Samantha. She was sitting in the front lobby of the church. She shouted at me as I walked out the door, “Be careful out there! Two guys tried to kidnap me, and I wouldn’t want that to happen to you.” Unwilling to believe her, I replied, “Samantha, I’m sorry you had a rough morning. I’ll be thinking of you. Hope your day gets better.” I continued out the church doors and opened my umbrella.

I later discovered that Samantha was mugged that morning. Thankfully, the police believed her while I had blown her off. They arrested the alleged perpetrators that afternoon.

I’m embarrassed by my lack of gentleness and compassion toward Samantha, and I know I’m not alone. I wonder what it means for the Church to embrace, accept and listen to those who have mental illnesses. I wonder how church leaders like myself can grow and help others to deepen their care for people like Samantha.

There are no simple answers, but I think the answer starts in a simple place:

We stand with them in the rain.

Lisa Schubert is Associate Pastor of Discipleship and Formation of North United Methodist Church, Indianapolis.