Getting Back to "Real Life"

The great thing is, if one can, to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions in one's "own" or "real" life. The truth is, of course, that what one regards as interruptions are precisely one's life (C.S. Lewis).

It has now been almost a year since I was hospitalized. These months of doctors, testing, and sustained physical pain have done little to provide answers. I am grateful to God for the prayers of those who have pleaded on my behalf that my faith would not fail in the face of this pain and uncertainty. By the grace of God and only by the grace of God, it has not. But as I await a new battery of test results and the corresponding array of potential diagnoses, I want to take stock of the past year. I testify to God's steadfast love and good purposes in this way in order that my own faith—and the faith of all who read—might be strengthened for what lies ahead.

Tragedy of any type has a clarifying effect on the mind. Instead of the many, there is the one. Instead of the functional beliefs and assumed priorities are the real ones. I learned so much about myself throughout the last year. Here are a few examples:

I learned that I believe in the Gospel, I cherish it, and I desire to see my life increasingly conformed to it. I was almost shocked to discover this, since I had not been faithfully living in accordance with it—not unless it was convenient (and when is the Gospel really convenient?). My faith felt like a veneer at times, hiding the real me from even my own eyes. Oh, thanks be to God! It is not. It is "by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain" (I Cor. 15:10).

In the face of the consuming uncertainty of the past year, I have tasted what it means to "walk by faith." And though I quickly revert to living by sight—every chance I get—the Lord has mercifully sustained me through the protracted trial. Would I have understood the Psalmist's cry—"Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you" (Psalm 73:25)—had the trial abated six months ago? God knows. But I believe with all of my heart that as long as this trial endures, it is serving a necessary purpose in my sanctification.

Living daily with circumstances that provoke this natural man to despair, I am learning to challenge him. I've learned to ask him what's he thinking, and why he's thinking something so absurd! I've learned to—on occasion—laugh at him and to more regularly counter his arguments with Scripture. With greater frequency, I am aware when my thoughts are in opposition to the gospel. And while I don't always turn from those lies immediately, the Spirit is helping me to repent of my unbelief.

The laborious process of leaning into and living through physical pain has revealed to me my own beliefs about comfort. I believed that the world—that God—owed me comfort and health in this life. Being forced to live beyond that assumption in the physical realm, though, I began to see applications in the spiritual. Repenting of my own spiritual laziness, I am learning how to practice spiritual disciplines even without seeing fruit. Recognizing that even my powers of self-assessment are tainted by sin, I'm clinging to the truth that whatever God has commanded is for my good. "You are good and do good; teach me your statutes" (Psalm 119:68).

I don't document these things to say in any sense that I have "arrived" in these areas. But I, instead, offer them as evidence of God's faithfulness. Each area of growth corresponds with an increased awareness of sin and a fresh infusion of grace to turn from it. As Kris Lundgaard wrote in The Enemy Within, "The grace of God in Christ and the law of sin are the two fountains of all your holiness and sin, joy and trouble, refreshment and sorrow. If you are to walk with God and glorify him in this world, you need to master both."

No, my circumstances haven't changed much in the past year, but I have. His grace to me was not in vain, but is instead producing the peaceful fruit of righteousness in me! So when I'm tempted to think of my illness as an interruption in my "real life" I remember these words of comfort and exhortation from Colossians, which radically redefine the idea of "real life":

If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory (3:1-4).

On Doctors and Diagnoses

Why am I still surprised when I dissolve into tears in the parking lot at the doctor's office? Although I feel like I wouldn't even dare to hope that this visit would produce any answers, it's obvious that I do. The woman who walks in and the woman who walks out inevitably wear different faces. Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I don't like being sick. And I don't like having needs.

I'm fighting to apply Titus 2:11-14 to these fresh wounds:

For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works.

I can never really get my mind around this passage. It speaks of salvation and sanctification; it promises self-control and the desire--even zeal--to do good works. It promises that I can live a godly life on this side of heaven.

How is this possible? It's only possible because grace trains us in what we should give up and in what we should pursue. And Titus 2 says that we are to do or to receive these things as we wait for the fulfillment of our ultimate hope. When I am overwhelmed by the not yets in my life, I find it helpful to consider again that God redeems all of our time--even the time spent waiting. I must believe that now, because I feel as though I am waiting for answers and waiting for healing in so many areas of my life.

The Lord has allowed me to begin ministering to a woman with an eating disorder as a result of this essay. This ministry has come at a time in my life when there are more questions than answers and in which I am tempted to doubt God's kindness to me. In the midst of the waiting and all of the not yets, here is a now. I am so grateful to serve in this way.

And yet anything that is brought into the light will be exposed. When we submit ourselves to God's word (even in counseling others), we will find out just how sinful we really are. Perhaps the most surprising, humbling, and (yes) frightening recognition for me is that I don't really have freedom in this area of my life. No, I don't live like a woman with an eating disorder anymore. But much of it is just behavioral modification; my sin is domesticated and kept at arm's length (but never beyond). So, I humbly confess that I am not recovered but recovering. We are never, in this life, beyond the reach of sin. I know that it is always waiting for me, whenever my emotions are a little too high or a little too low. I return to it daily if not hourly, at least in my thoughts.

Luke 11 says, "No one after lighting a lamp puts it in a cellar or under a basket, but on a stand, so that those who enter may see the light. Your eye is the lamp of your body. When your eye is healthy, your whole body is full of light, but when it is bad, your body is full of darkness. Therefore be careful lest the light in you be darkness. If then your whole body is full of light, having no part dark, it will be wholly bright, as when a lamp with its rays gives you light." While significant areas of my relationship to food and eating have been exposed to the light, other areas have remained in darkness. I like to think that I can set this little sin apart and pursue growth in other areas, but I know that scripture sets forth no such selective sanctification.

"Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance." Here is one area in which I do have a diagnosis, and a Physician who can heal. I know for certain that the treatment for this disease is successful. I am called to repent and, by the grace of God and the help of His Spirit, I do.

I'd write more, but I don't know what to say...

Because one has only learnt to get the better of words
For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way in which
One is no longer disposed to say it. And so each venture
Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate,
With shabby equipment always deteriorating
In the general mess of imprecision of feeling,
Undisciplined squads of emotion.

T. S. Eliot, The Four Quartets

Report

My visit to the podiatrist was encouraging, though it doesn’t seem likely to bear fruit.

Like all of the doctors before her, the podiatrist noted that my condition “just doesn’t add up” for someone of my age who is not overweight. Since I have flat feet, I expected her to prescribe a pair of expensive orthotics for me. But she very kindly explained to me that, since insurance won’t cover the cost and she has limited reason to believe that it will help, such a prescription might be premature. She’s not at all sure that the problem is something that her field can address.

Off the top of her head, she could think of only one type of testing to run on me—namely, vascular. But, again, she seemed fairly hesitant to proceed. What she did that no other doctor has done is to ask for a few days to research my condition, and she promised to call me next week with a plan of action. I do not know whether or not this doctor is a believer; what I do know is that she demonstrated integrity and compassion in an exemplary manner. I was blessed by her beneficence.

In the meantime, I am continuing to experience an increased level of pain—despite the fact that I’m wearing my tennis shoes and haven’t been to the gym in a while. To say the least, I am perplexed. I’d say more, but I would be complaining!

For those of you who commented or emailed today to encourage me, thank you so much for your perseverance in prayer. Your faithfulness is glorifying to God and edifying to me.

Sick and Tired

The irony of a post entitled "sick and tired" after I put a moratorium on complaining is not lost on me. But, before the Lord, I say these things remembering that we are members of one another and desiring to humbly let my needs be known.

I don't speak all that regularly anymore about my actual illness. I talk about the derivative issues, such as anger, but I am typically silent about the physical struggles. It's not that I am trying to be brave; really, I'm just trying to live around my illness (with "live" being the operative word). I was reminded tonight, though, of what it means to inhabit a body that is sick and tired.

My small group had decided to attend an outdoor concert this evening, so I was poised to go--bug spray, lawn chair, etc. My feet and legs were pretty swollen, but I tried to ignore that and drove over to the concert site.

About half-way through the 20 minute commute, though, I had to admit to myself that it really was quite uncomfortable to drive. The swelling had worsened to the point that it felt like my tennis shoes would just burst. I got to the concert site and, to my dismay, could not find any place to park that wouldn't require at least 5 or 6 blocks of walking. Feeling frustrated and utterly defeated, I drove back home. Now it hurts even to stand, and I don't know why. Will you ask the Lord for healing and rest for my body? Will you pray for me as I go (for the first time) to a podiatrist tomorrow morning at 8:15?

In light of all that has happened over the past few months, particularly with the accumulated medical bills and related expenses, I have decided to give up my apartment. Though I live in the cheapest one-bedroom apartment around, I live alone. I no longer have that luxury, so I am exploring other options. By the grace of God, this search will be conducted diligently but not frantically or fearfully--even though I have only a few weeks to make a decision. I am confident that this move of fiscal responsibility is the right one to make, so I ask mostly that you pray that I will have faith enough (as I do due diligence) to await the Lord's provision. Truly, I have light enough for this step and this step only.

Though I am sick and tired tonight, I am still hopeful. I look ahead at the questions to be answered and the decisions to be made and I declare with the Psalmist, "I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning" (Psalm 130:5-6).

For a Little While, Part III

The fear of the Lord is the third comfort that the Lord has given to me during this season of suffering. You see, the fear of the Lord and the fear of man are mutually exclusive. Much of my spiritual and emotional distress over the years has been an outgrowth of the fear of man and a refusal to believe that “there is now therefore no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” This time of suffering and uncertainty has forced me to rehearse what I know to be true about my life and my salvation—that God’s fundamental orientation toward me has changed as a result of a Gospel which declares that God is now for me in Christ. Romans 8:28 leaves little room for doubt; the design of God, for those who love him and are called according to his purpose, is salvation. What does salvation mean? In God is the Gospel, John Piper describes salvation as an “all-encompassing word” that “embraces all the gospel promises, such as the promise of healing, help for the poor, liberation for captives, peace, eternal life, global expanse, and the all-satisfying vision of the glory of God."

That—the vision of the glory of God—is what I had missed in my salvation for years. Yet there were moments, in the darkest times of suffering, that the Lord revealed himself to me in new ways. And what can I report? Yes, I was satisfied. I was satisfied in the midst of my suffering, because God is great beyond all measure. Even in my sanctified, glorified body, I will never be great. The people of whom I have been afraid will never be great. "Michele! Hear this." God is great. May those who seek him rejoice and be glad in him. May those who love his salvation say forever, "God is great!” (Psalm 70:4).

So I remind myself regularly that the Lord will accomplish His purposes for me (Psalm 57:2, Romans 8:28). And his purposes are not feeble like my own; he has purposed no less than my total salvation. So, after I have suffered a little while, the God all grace, who has called me to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish me (I Peter 5:10). There is no post-illness contingency in God’s plan. He will accomplish His purposes for my life; working in me a salvation that will be to the praise of his glory. So I will rejoice in the hope of the glory of God—not in the hope of a diagnosis or the alleviation of pain.

For a Little While, Part II

I think back to this verse in Romans 15: “For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.” The encouragement of the Scriptures has been the primary way that hope has been produced in my heart throughout this time, and it is the only way that fear has been conquered. For example, the Lord brought this verse from Psalm 16 to my mind as I went for my first MRI, “I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.” Every time claustrophobia and panic threatened to overtake me, I would envision the Lord before me, at my right hand. The comfort of Scripture was as tangible as I’ve ever known it to be at that time. I must have repeated that verse to myself 100 times during that 45 minute procedure! And the encouragement of the Scriptures gave me hope that I could withstand the next MRI, just a few hours later

You, the body of Christ, are the second of the comforts which the Lord has given to me. I truly do not know how I would have survived these last few months without this church and my colleagues at Crossway. I am grateful to the Lord that he has not called us to bear our burdens alone but has, instead, provided both His body and His spirit to sustain us here on this earth.

What exactly does it mean to “bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ?” Sometimes it means sleeping in a chair in his hospital room; it means feeding her cat or watering her plants; it means calling to pray with him or let him cry. It means cleaning her house or cooking her meals; it means praying for the things that matter to him when he is too weak to pray. It means, maybe above all else, that you pointed her to Christ when she could see only herself. You were the Lord’s hands and feet to me in these ways and more.

For a Little While, Part I

Around March 1, I began to have some pain in my shins. Since I was then running between 15 and 20 miles per week, it seemed obvious that what I was dealing with was shin splints. I administered treatment accordingly, using the RICE prescription (rest, ice, compress, elevate) that all runners know by heart.

To make a long story short, I was hospitalized on May 1 after these progressively worsening “shin splints” rendered me unable to walk. A trip to the emergency room led to hospitalization and the seemingly inevitable diagnosis of MS. The nurses brought me literature on “Coping with MS” and talked about brain lesions as I lay alone in my room. A gruff but kindly neurologist patted my hand and asked, “Did you plan to get married? Have kids? What were your plans before now?” The rest of the conversation was lost on me. All I heard was that this disease marked the turning point in my life; there was a before and an after, and everything that I wanted was trapped in the before.

Two weeks, two MRIs and a spinal tap later, the doctors ruled out MS. In the meantime, I have a team of doctors that no 28-year-old should have—including a neurologist, an orthopedist, and a rheumatologist. Each one has commended me to another’s care, but no one has come up with a treatment plan or even a way to manage pain. Rheumatoid arthritis? Some other type of autoimmune disease like lupus? A subtle neurological disorder? A slipped disc? I’ve left almost all of my doctor’s appointments in tears. Sometimes the uncertainty is even harder to bear than the pain.

From early April to mid-June, my pain was unrelenting, even in the face of the narcotics that the doctors prescribed. Still, about four weeks ago and after more than five months, my pain began to diminish. I have no clear medical explanation for this. It may be an indication that an autoimmune disease is going into remission; it may be an indication that several months of rest has relieved an orthopedic problem; it may be an indication that the Lord has healed me. The uncertainty may well outlast the pain. Yet in all of this I rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, I have been grieved by various trials.

"If necessary" means that much work has been done in my heart and mind through this pain. Suffering renders everything foreign—the most familiar comforts, the day-to-day tasks, the furniture of life. Three comforts have been heightened for me in place of the hard work, independence, and various types of self-gratification that were my sustenance before. I had never known the comfort of Scripture, the efficacy of the body, or the clean and enduring fear of the Lord as they have been revealed to me in these past few months. I wish that I could say that the fleshly comforts were no longer appealing to me, but I can say that the severe mercy of God is breaking the stranglehold of sin in my life by all means necessary.

My Big Break?

My accommodating general practitioner called me today to give me a detailed explanation of the results of my bone scan. First, a little lesson:

In a bone scan, the patient is injected with a radioactive isotope which spreads throughout the bloodstream. In areas where bone injuries or abnormalities are present, cellular activity is increased--because the cells are busily working to repair the damage. A bone scan looks for these areas in which the radioactive isotope is most concentrated.

Now, back to me:

My bone scan revealed a minor increase in cellular activity around the lower part of my right tibia and upper part of my left tibia (closer to the knee). The lab techs who read the results noted that this was "subtle, but could suggest a mild fracture or rheumatoid arthritis." My doctor is calling an orthopedic specialist for a consultation. I'm hoping for a big break, if you'll pardon the pun.

Of all the problems that have been suggested over the past two months, the orthopedic ones are the least life-altering and have the best prognosis. Please, Lord. Let this be it!

Suffocating

I've always associated losing control with suffocating. This probably gives you some idea how much of a control freak I am. I feel like I'm suffocating when I walk into my apartment right now. My dining room table is covered with medical bills and EOBs and, as one who always pays a bill immediately upon receipt, I'm becoming more than a little frantic. I've never even had a fine at Blockbuster, for crying out loud! So what happens when...what happens if? How will these accounts ever be settled? Debt = Oxygen debt. Suffocating.

My tidy little life is anything but tidy right now, and I can see quite clearly that peace has flown with order. Romans 5:1 tells me that, since I have been justified by faith, I have peace with God through Christ. If I have peace with God, why do I not have peace?

My lack of peace is indicative of a lack of faith. It is not my standing before God but, instead, my running from him that leads to this lack of peace. My faith is other things right now, like in my own ability to manipulate all the data of my life. As goes my ability, so goes my peace.

Though my physical pain is abating for large portions of the day, a spiritual and emotional ache seems to have settled into its place. As I told a friend earlier, it almost seems as though for each little bit of physical stamina that I gain, an old fleshly desire comes back with it. So I find myself afraid of the unknown and even more afraid that the pain has been wasted—because I thought that I knew what the pain was for.

How can I be honest, humble, and teachable before God during these days? I am a poor man to relate to Job, and yet I confess that his words minister to me. I cried when I read this verse in Job 9, "He will not let me get my breath, but fills me with bitterness." Job knew this feeling of suffocating, and he confessed it to God. Lord, this is how I feel, too. Teach me how to see your truth in this situation; grant me faith to say, “Though he slay me, I will hope in him.”

A few days ago, a friend pointed me to this verse in Isaiah 30: “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.” I've thought of this verse often since that time. This taciturn surrender is a difficult remedy for me, and yet I know that these are days for endurance. Lord, grant me eyes to see your strength and your salvation. Make me willing to rest in you and to trust in your good purposes. You have given me life by your very breath, enable me to wait for you to provide all that I need to sustain it.

Beyond WebMD

I finally ventured over to the public library this weekend, advancing my personal research efforts beyond the ubiquitous WebMD. I walked away with about 8 books, each cloaked in primary colors and screaming “the answer” in brazen white letters. Some were books on autoimmune diseases and others were books on inflammation in general. Each of them resembled a diet guide, and I felt as though they were all silently and simultaneously trying to persuade me even as I deposited them in my car. They still seem a bit…overzealous…as they sit there on my shelf. I don’t like to look at them.

Some have been helpful, others have not. Each one contradicts and refutes its predecessor; I understand why Beatty wanted the books burned in Fahrenheit 451. It is easier not to confront the ideas than to sift through them. The most frightening part is that every time I read one of these books I want to go to GNC and spend money. I guess that I spent a lot of time thinking about how I might prepare my body for action.

What about my mind? I find more breaches in that wall than in the obviously compromised body. How can I prepare it for the battle that continues to rage? I Peter I says:

Therefore, preparing your minds for action, and being sober-minded, set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, since it is written, “You shall be holy, for I am holy.” And if you call on him as Father who judges impartially according to each one's deeds, conduct yourselves with fear throughout the time of your exile, knowing that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your forefathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot. He was foreknown before the foundation of the world but was made manifest in the last times for the sake of you who through him are believers in God, who raised him from the dead and gave him glory, so that your faith and hope are in God.

Verses 20-21 tell me that Christ was revealed to me so that my faith and my hope might be in God; verse 13 tells me to take an action in response. I am to "set" my hope on the grace that will be mine at the revelation of Christ. That means that, when I am tempted to put my hope in the bone scan that I'm having tomorrow, I must actively "set" my hope on Christ. The truth is that there is life beyond WebMD and beyond even the prodigious feats of modern medicine; there is life beyond this broken body and weak mind, and I am ransomed from the futile ways that teach me otherwise. I now wait, groaning with all creation, for my adoption as a son--the redemption of my body. For in this hope I was saved.

Diagnostic Gymnastics and Other Assorted Conditions

I’ve been compared to a gymnast all my life. It’s just how I’m built. But I’ve never heard it from a doctor before.

Let me back up. The rheumatologist pored over the medical history that I gave him, and I felt really encouraged. I told him how my pain was, in comparison to how it was a few weeks ago, and he made some assessments. I later learned that I erred on the side of optimism in describing the pain, since he didn’t understand that I can hardly walk. I guess that I was trying to fight my natural cynical tendencies and focus on the progress.

He told me, with some fanfare, that there was nothing neurologically wrong with me but that I was, instead, “hypermobile.” It’s not uncommon with women (stats say 10-20%), but it’s most common among female gymnasts. It means that my limbs bend a bit too far in the wrong direction. His incisive prescription was to wear running shoes, to stay off my feet as much as possible, not to run (as if!!!) and to come back and see him in 6 weeks. He also wants to do a bone scan to see if we can identify any injuries that might have been caused by this hypermobility. Otherwise, I guess we are just assuming that such injuries exist...

I realized, if he was cautioning me not to run, that I had not made it clear how debilitating this pain is. I teared up and told him about how far I can walk without being in excruciating pain. He looked perplexed and said that I need to come back in 6 months to be tested again for lupus, rheumatoid arthritis and for something else that I have already forgotten (I’d never heard of it before; how could I forget this?). He said that it could be serious. I felt like he was the one doing gymnastics.

I asked him what to do for the pain. He said to keep taking ibuprofen. When I suggested that it hadn’t helped, he said that it would now that I’m wearing running shoes every day. I'm insulted. I felt like he had made up his mind and was simply refusing to let any new information get in the way.

“What about pushing myself just a little bit? Can I keep trying to walk a little farther, do a little more? Can I travel? I really need to fly this time next month.”

Emphatically, “No.” I cannot push myself—not now, not for a long time. And I can travel if I can walk.

So, if I just don't move for the next six weeks (or months)--then this is all going to go away? Is that what I'm hearing? I'm trying not to be discouraged, but I'm not having a lot of success at the moment.

Doctor's Appointment

I have my first appointment with a rheumatologist tomorrow at 9:15AM. The poor doctor is going to wish that he'd downed a few more cups of coffee when I arrive. I'm taking 20 pages of test results, a spreadsheet of my personal medical history, and the extensive family medical history that my dear mother compiled for me.

Please pray for insight for the doctor. I know that he is not going to be able to diagnose me immediately, unless the Lord intervenes in a supernatural way. Pray that he will be able to sift out what is significant and what is not. Pray that he will be able to make connections between some of my seemingly discrete symptoms if connections exist.

Please pray also for wisdom for me. It's so hard to know what's relevant, what to say, what to ask, when your hope is so tightly bound up in every word that the doctor utters. Perhaps more to the point: pray that my hope would be in the Lord, even as I sit in that doctor's office.

I'll let you know how it goes!

From Foot-Washing to Feet

No theological or philosophical reflections today, friends. Just the facts:

After being off those horrible steroids for only two days, my feet are swollen again (for the first time in nearly three weeks). I had to search for a pair of shoes that would fit this morning and have had much more trouble walking.

It seems logical to now assume that the steroids have been serving some useful purpose. But the new facts beg further questions, like this one: If my pain level was that high on steroids, what am I to expect now that I'm not medicated?

It is hard not to dwell on these questions and fears, so I am grateful that Scripture makes known to us the consequences of doing so. I read in Romans 8 that "to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace." Here I am warned of the effects of clinging to this fear, which is neither fruitful nor faithful.

But to actually fight it, I must throw myself upon the God who is faithful. I must remember the God who has forgiven all my iniquity if I am to trust him to be the God who heals all my diseases. I'm going to spend some time doing that now.

From Suffering to Hope

About three or four months back, I began to meet with my pastor and a couple from my small group to talk regularly about some persistent, indwelling sin in my life and the ensuing temptation to depression. In fact, I met with them just a couple of weeks before I went into the hospital. Without going into detail, I was battling specific issues related to control, self-gratification, and hopelessness.

What I was surprised to realize today is that these are the specific strongholds now under attack. Consider control and self-gratification. What can I control right now? I can hardly do my own grocery shopping! With what can I now gratify myself, when all of my ordinary pleasures—in work, food, exercise, AND in control itself—are suspended or so transformed as to be barely recognizable. All of the touchstones by which I would assess my own success or failure are moved; all of the rewards I would give myself are now altered.

The curse of my sin—of my controlling works and my hedonistic indulgences—had become a flight from grace and a temptation to despair. I knew that my system was defective, even if it remained intact, and I hated it. David Powlison explains, in Suffering and the Sovereignty of God:

"It is worth noting that Christians, as new creations in Christ, also live in an essentially different relationship to their own sinfulness. Your sin now afflicts you. The 'dross' no longer defines or delights you. Indwelling sin becomes a form of significant suffering. What you once instinctively loved now torments you. The essential change in your relationship with God radically changes your relationship to remaining sinfulness. In Christ, in order to sin, you must lapse into temporary insanity, into forgetfulness. It is your worst cancer, your most crippling disability, your most treacherous enemy, your deepest distress. It is the single most destructive force impacting your life. Like nothing else in all creation, this threatens your life and well-being."

Let’s examine again the three sins that I mentioned as the most pernicious and persistent for me: control, self-gratification, and hopelessness. These were sinful patterns of living that I had been unable to undo; with Paul I cried, "I do the things I hate." The first two sins are being ravaged by this physical suffering, and I know that the third one is under a similar (if more subtle) attack. Remember Romans 5, where we learn that "suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope"? This text makes a direct connection between suffering and hope. So, while I never would have anticipated my need to suffer, I knew well my desperate need for hope.

Though the Lord has not revealed to me all the means, I know and trust His purposes. This is why we are exhorted to rejoice in our sufferings! It is not some type of masochistic feat; it’s faith. It's faith that all the promises of God—including this one—are YES in Christ. Faith is how we move from suffering to hope, and our God is the (unmoved) mover who grants that faith.

Lord, increase my faith!

More Good Questions

I posted previously (May 15, "Speaking to Those in Pain") about good questions to ask a sufferer. David Powlison is much better equipped to make suggestions along these lines, so I'll let him speak through his helpful chapter in Suffering and the Sovereignty of God:

"Often the biggest problem for any sufferer is not 'the problem.' It is the spiritual challenge the problem presents: 'How are you doing in the midst of what you are going through? What are you learning? Where are you failing? Where do you need encouragement? Will you learn to live well and wisely within pain, limitation, weakness, and loss? Will suffering define you? Will faith and love grow, or will you shrivel up?' These are life-and-death issues--more important than 'the problem' in the final analysis. They take asking, thinking, listening, responding. They take time."

I like his questions very much, although I would recommend that either a close and honest relationship or an invitation to accountability should be the premise for the "will" questions. Coming from someone who stands at a distance, they could be construed as an accusation.

For the record, if you are reading this, you may ask me any of these questions. Accountability is such an important means of grace in this time (as in all others). I am committed, by the grace of God, to squelching the feeling of condemnation that hard questions can invoke. The process always gives life even as it humbles.

Plumb Lines and Worship

I have noticed that the preparation for a remarkable worship experience usually starts much earlier in the week—with a breaking of the will, a breaking of an idol, or some diligence in Spirit-led labor. That work started for me on Thursday, and I could sense the fruit of it almost as soon as I walked through the door of the church this morning. With the help of a dear friend on Thursday night, I held my heart up to the plumb line of Scripture and found it lacking in some very specific ways. With the help of the Spirit, I repented of that sin and turned from it. I turned from it again on Friday, on Saturday, today. No, I have not turned perfectly, but I continue turning. And God did not despise my broken and contrite heart.

When I have met the Lord in worship, my whole being is permeated with a sense of purpose. There were infusions of that to my heart this morning…and it was evident to me that my brothers and sisters were also worshipping in Spirit and in truth. I think of the friend a few rows ahead of me who was praising the Lord in diligent abandon, both choosing and chosen by joy. Her fervent worship in the Spirit spurred me on when I was feeling weary. I remember the countless ways that the Gospel was presented—in our songs, prayers, and recitations—long before we ever got to the sermon. I rejoiced at the realization that unbelievers were hearing this good news, even as I rejoiced at my own salvation. We prayed corporately through Psalm 51 and my heart was made hopeful and glad again:

“Have mercy on me,O God,according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin! For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight…For you will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it; you will not be pleased with a burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

Never, no never, despised.

My small group gathered around me after the service to pray for me and to learn how they could serve me. They honored the Lord, and even me, for the work that is being accomplished in my life right now. I was reminded again of the verse in I Corinthians 12, “If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together.” I couldn’t help but thinking that the Lord must be pleased with their obedience--an obedience that was truly the overflow of their hearts. The bond of unity in the spirit held us tightly together this morning; truly, we are members one of another!

For perhaps the first time since I got sick, I was able both physically and emotionally to sustain interaction with my brothers and sisters. In general, Sundays have been a good plumb line for me in assessing this type of improvement. I could see how much more endurance I demonstrated this morning in my ability to stand and converse with friends before the service, rise at appropriate intervals in worship, and pray with my small group after the service.

I thank the Lord for physically renewing me in these ways, that I might be spiritually strengthened by the body. I thank him that the members do not all have the same function, but that each is gifted for particular service. And, seeing today the proper functioning of the parts of the body, I eagerly anticipate the building up of the whole body in love.

Results

The results from my EMG today were completely normal. My protein factors are normal, which means that this is probably not a muscle disorder. We haven't yet seen anything to give a solid indication that something is wrong with my nerves (though my pain seems to act like nerve pain). The only abnormal numbers on my tests were my RH factor, which was 20.

The RH factor is a strong indicator of rheumatoid arthritis. I read somewhere online that, even with a factor of 20 (which is on the low side of the positive diagnostic spectrum), the patient has an 80% chance of having the disease. Yet there are a number of other autoimmune diseases, infections, and conditions that can cause false positives.

One of the primary treatments for rheumatoid arthritis is steroids which, as you know, I've been taking for nearly 4 weeks now. The fact that my condition has not responded to the steroids is of concern here, since it could mean the rheumatoid arthritis is a secondary condition or merely a symptom of something else.

I have already been on the phone with a number of rheumatologists, and the earliest I can get an appointment is for two weeks from today. As you can imagine, that is disheartening. But at least, for the first time in several weeks, there is a "next step." I, of course, use the word “step” quite gingerly…

Prayer Request

I almost forgot to mention that I go in for my next round of tests tomorrow morning at 8:30AM. Please pray that the doctor would have insight and skill as he conducts the tests.

On Commutes, Steriods, and Bedtime Negotiations

I've waxed so philosophical with my last few updates that I have failed to give you any practical idea of how things are progressing for me.

On Friday, I started back to work full-time. On Monday, I actually returned to the office on a half-time basis. It is good to be on-site with my colleagues again, although it's alarming to discover how much even those familiar four walls have changed in the past month. The hallways, the parking lot—everything is so extensive and discrete now. The distance that I formerly spanned in less than a minute (3 inch heels notwithstanding) now takes 6. I laughed and told my boss that my commute from the parking lot to my desk takes 15 minutes. It's only funny because it's true!

I started my fourth and final week of steroids today. I cannot begin to describe how much I loathe those chalky white pills. For three weeks now, I have not been able either to fill my stomach or to taste my food, and the combination is decidedly unpleasant. My face and my body are suspiciously swollen now, and I avert my proportionally-shrinking eyes when I walk past the mirror in my bedroom. That mirror is not where my battles are now, but I'm so accustomed to fighting on that turf that I occasionally forget. The Lord is certainly teaching me new things about beauty in these days, so I try to pay as little attention as I can to those tattling pieces of glass. The lessons that the mirror can share are not important right now, even if they are true.

I will visit the doctor again on Friday for an EMG test, which will—at least—be less painful than a spinal tap! I won't venture to say exactly what we hope to learn from this test, but it seems as though it might evidence either a muscle or nerve conduction problem. The data could pinpoint a specific conduction problem, isolate a range of problems, or reveal nothing. Results should be available early next week.

My sleep is restless and fitful, but it does come now, and I am intensely grateful for that. But I guess that a few days’ worth of poor sleep is catching up with me, because I feel utterly exhausted tonight as I write. In fact, all the emails and phone calls that I’d hoped to complete will just have to wait. Neither my plans nor the belligerent assertions of my clock are going to dissuade me from believing that 7:30 PM is an appropriate bedtime.

I will leave you with a brief word of encouragement which the Lord brought to my mind tonight. As I was praying a few hours ago, I was reminded of the Lord’s kindness in the timing of my illness—kindness toward me and toward my beloved community. Though I noticed my “shin splints” less than a week after my best friend’s wedding, there was not one hint of physical pain to slow me down from my maid of honor duties or to mar anyone’s enjoyment of that precious event. This realization actually hadn’t occurred to me until now, and so I’m resting upon a fresh gratitude as I lay me down to sleep.

Mental Exertion and Spinal Tap

No extended reflection today, my friends, and we'll just have to chalk it up to mental exertion and spinal tap.

First, I worked an 8-hour day today-albeit from the comfort of my own bed. It felt good to exercise some mental muscle, even if those muscles were a bit...isolated.

Also, I will be the guest of honor tonight at a "Spinal Tap" party (actually, the party has been dubbed PALP-People Against Lumbar Puncture). No, this isn't normal. But neither are my friends. Though our ostensible purpose for gathering is to view the 1984 Rob Reiner film, This is Spinal Tap, I can promise you that there will be prayers and tears and the celebration of God's goodness in community.

Though I'm already a bit tired from the day, I can hardly wait to be physically present with so many of you this evening.