The Blessings of an Illness

The Bible is a book of miraculous healing.

Jesus Christ performed many of them. He taught His disciples, and those who would follow, to heal the sick and afflicted. This is a real part of the Gospel, and it’s the definite work of his Kingdom.

I’ve personally seen legs lengthened and fevers ‘broken’ on several occasions. Obviously it changes life for the sick person, certainly! But it can also boost the faith of those who witness these miracles. I truly believe the Holy Spirit still works these wonders today. We must let him do these things. That isn’t an option.

Somehow though, there is the ‘understanding’ that in order to be healed you must have sufficient faith. Those who are not healed are the people who have a weak faith, they’re missing out somehow on a miracle because their faith didn’t measure up. I wonder though, how much faith was needed to wash in the pool of Siloam in John 5? But really, all that is needed is a mustard seed (Matthew 17:20).

Faith is an active component to many who were healed in Scripture. Jesus said to the blind man, “Receive your sight; your faith has healed you” (Luke 18:42). It happened!

Yet we read of many believers in Hebrews 11 who endured sickness and ill-treatment. We read of vicious brutality and persecution of these “people with faith.”

Not everyone who is sick will receive a physical healing.

For believers today who suffer physically or mentally, we may question our faith. (Especially when the healing evangelist comes to town). After 2-3 tries we settle back on our “deficient’ faith feeling a bit miserable. I honestly don’t think that’s what the Lord wants.

It seems to me that the real issue is not so much a weak faith, but holding on to your faith when you are not healed.

I hear talk about having faith to be healed–but what about the faith that’s needed to be sick?

Why do we suffer from illness? I suspect that for many believers sickness is really there to bring glory to God. Holding onto faith in the midst of pain often encourages those who witness it. I believe that was Paul’s experience (2 Cor. 12:7-10).

Oh dear one, continue to seek healing, (James 5:14).

The Spirit does these things today. But if you’re left in your illness, trust in Him still. All your ways end up in His nail-scarred hands of our Lord Jesus. But remember, when he greets you in heaven, you will know him by the scars.

“The moment an ill can be patiently handled, it is disarmed of its poison, though not of its pain.”

–Henry Ward Beecher

Grasping Grace, an Excerpt

I was seventeen when I faced the most difficult decision of my life. At the time, I justified it as my only option.

Curled up on my bed, in what had once been my safe haven, I squeezed my eyes tight, holding back a flood of tears. I gasped for air and shuddered at the thought of telling my parents.

The scene played out in my mind over and over. Shaking and trembling, unable to look either of them in the eye, I would force the words “Mom, Dad, I was raped and I’m pregnant.” Dad’s cheerful grin would disappear. Mom would give me the silent stare that said it was all my fault.

Escape plan

With each passing day, I wasn’t getting any less pregnant. I had to do something. But what? I had my whole life ahead of me. I had college plans and a career, which didn’t mesh with becoming a teenage mom. College was going to be my escape from my crummy hometown.

Getting pregnant was a bit like the run on the Bailey Savings and Loan that kept poor George Bailey from getting out of Bedford Falls in It’s a Wonderful Life. Only I didn’t stay and save the town from Potter. I took the money and ran.


The Rest of the Story

This is my story. Well, one of my stories. I, just like you, am made up of many stories. To read the rest of this story, see the full article “Grasping Grace” on Now What?, the online magazine of Bible Advocate Magazine.

anotherfearlessyear.net

Astonished Angels

457

“When the Japanese mend broken objects, they aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold. They believe that when something’s suffered damage and has a history it becomes more beautiful.”

~Barbara Bloom

Just a short word of encouragement to all my suffering brothers and sisters. 

I believe God loves you (it’s not a cliche) and has a tremendous plan for you.  Scripture tells us that we will reign with Him (and the last time I looked, there is no disqualification for being mentally or physically ill). 

Having suffered through your whole life will be just an enhancement, a bonus when you finally are held by Jesus, and you can rest in His arms.

Those of us who struggle with depression, mania, and paranoia know a lot about cracks and brokenness.  Mixed states, anxiety, and social withdrawal all have taken their toll. Some of us hear voices. Addictions and suicide attempts have made up our past life (and even sometimes try to intrude on the present.)

Some of us have physical disabilities. We come to worship from our wheelchairs and walkers. Some of us are deaf, and others are blind. But we come still. Our hope is in the coming King who promises us a new and fully redeemed Kingdom. There will be no more pain.

I once had a dear friend with advancing Alzheimers She understands little of what is happening to her,  but she still worshiped God with the rest of the congregation. Before dementia, she was a dynamic spiritual marvel.  Without a doubt one of the astonishing women I had ever met.

Now however, when she raises her hands, I believe the angels step back in a deep awe. 

I just realized this–the angels understand worship, they really do. Praise seems to be their specialty. Each angel that surrounds the throne has a PhD in “worshipology.”

But you know what? The angels really don’t understand our worship out of our pain, weakness, and brokenness. Since they have never experienced it, I don’t think they understand.

Let’s worship God with our cracks and brokenness.  In John 12:1-7, a woman breaks open a jar of nard on Jesus’ feet, while the other disciples hang back and complain. 

But always remember this dear one–it’s only by brokenness and then being poured out that one can release the perfume.

bry-signat (1)

*

The Power of My Wound

A Poem by Linda K.

Healing doesn’t happen all at once.
Sexual trauma runs too deep,
is much too complex for simple remedies.

We have no Star Trek sickbay
or magic tricorder
to bind up the wounds,
erase the battle scars.

And would we want to if we could?
Would we walk away,
pretend it never happened,
we were never assaulted
violated… hated… berated…
made to feel shame and doubt?

Could we ignore the very truth of what we
know was wrong… evil… the vilest of all?
Could we simply walk away
and cease to bear witness
for those who come after?
Or maybe for those violated before
our own innocence was vanquished
but are yet to heal at all?

If we could be healed completely
in an instant, in the blink
of a selfish, knowing eye…

But to do so meant leaving
our sisters, our friends,
our daughters, even strangers,
without the hope of their presence?

Could we? Should we?

Because to heal 100 percent
I think is to forget every ounce,
every moment, of
the pain and struggle.

And to forget is to lose compassion.
So perhaps it is worth the
ups and downs of scars
that appear healed but sometimes,
more often than we’d like, bleed tears
of understanding helping others
feel not so alone.

Often I pray for complete healing.
For years I prayed to forget.
But then I remember that
without my wound
I am not me.

Without my wound
the scarring of my heart and soul,
I am powerless.

aasignLinda

AnotherFearlessYear.net