Our Cancer Journey, Part 12: Where We Go From Here

This is the final installment of a 12-part post, sharing our leukemia journey. If you're just joining us, you can start at Part One here.

The Right Timing

It has brought me great joy to write out our leukemia journey. It was a long time coming! Honestly, I’ve known for a while that I wanted to write about it, but I think it was just still too real, too raw, for me to be able to write objectively about what happened. Of course, all experience is subjective, but I think the perspective I developed in waiting til now before writing about it was helpful. I hope you have found it encouraging, and I hope you’ll pass it along, maybe to someone who is going through something similar, for their encouragement.

As I write this, my dear leukemia-surviving husband is suffering with Influenza B, and is quite miserable. Even just a few months ago, I think this illness would have sent me into a terrified panic attack. I can imagine all the what-if’s I’d be running through: What if his immune system can’t handle it? What if he develops pneumonia? What if I come down with it—who will take care of him? But, much to my joy, I had none of these thoughts. The Lord has been so faithful in caring for us throughout this entire journey that my trust in Him has become quite sufficient to keep me calm and unafraid.

Different Wife, Different Life
I am not the same wife I was before my husband got a life-threatening illness. The trial brought on by this deadly, aggressive cancer has taught me a lot about my faith and the God in whom I have placed it; and I thought I had been through some pretty tough stuff already! Surely my battle with chronic pain and all the limitations that come with it would have humbled me, would have deepened my faith and matured me. That is true, but this trial of seeing someone you love—on whom you have depended for most of your adult life—fall  victim to an aggressive, deadly disease? Well that is a trial on a “whole ‘notha level,” as they say.  

John has always been my go-to friend; my buffer in difficult situations; my safe place to go when life is scary. Experiencing the most frightening thing in my life so far, without his strong shoulder to lean on, has taught me much about myself and about God. I’ve learned that in some ways and seasons, I have made an idol of my husband. In seeking comfort, solace, and protection in him, I have become unaccustomed to seeking it in God. Of course, our spouses are to be a source of all these things, but they should never be the primary source of any of them. I’ve learned through this leukemia journey that God is my refuge and strength, my very present help in trouble.   

John’s illness gave me the opportunity to learn this dependence on God through experience. Though the trials in my life had prepared me to some degree for this one, I don’t think there’s any way we are ever truly ready for such a challenge. The Lord had given me many opportunities to learn this dependence on him through previous trials, but I believe that in my self-sufficiency, I had come through most of them without really disciplining myself to depend on Him. This time though, there was no choice.

Learning Submission Through Love
I can’t tell you how many nights I sat on my back porch after coming home from the hospital and just cried out to God for his mercy and help. I cried for John’s pain and suffering, and I cried for my loneliness and fear. I cried for the possibility that I might never bring him home, and I cried for the loss of life as we’d known it, even if I did. Those were gut-wrenching nights, exhausting but humbling. In the end they left me softer, more willing to be shaped and molded by my Creator God, and more eager to submit to his loving will.

I’ve learned more about submission over this past year and a half than at any other time in my Christian life. But what’s taught me about submission wasn’t the practice I got in submitting. It was the overwhelming, awe-inspiring, all-encompassing love of God. He showed me in countless ways throughout this awful ordeal how much he loved me. He comforted me in my pain; answered my husband’s prayers in ways that deepened his faith; provided for my every need, and heard my pitiful cries. But most of all, he came alongside me and walked me through it. This is the simple, beautiful, perfect love of God: He is near.

I sensed God’s presence with me in ways I had never experienced before. But the wonderful thing is that this closeness, this intimacy with the Lord has remained with me as this illness falls further into the rear view. My God is my own now. The God of the Bible, whom I studied diligently to know; the God of the counseling room, whose Word I studied to show myself a competent counselor; the God of the universe, who inspires awe and wonder every time I open my eyes: That God became my God over the course of these two years. A distant God I'd known intellectually became my sweet Friend and Counselor; my Abba; my Jesus.

What’s Next?
In just a few short months, Lord willing, we will have a final bone marrow biopsy, and the doctors will declare John “cured.” (There’s even a gong he gets to bang, and a certificate involved! I’ll pop back in here then with the update, and possibly a video of said gong-banging!)  The lessons I have learned on this journey will stick with me. I know this because those lessons were not self-taught or learned from others. They were seeds of assurance, planted by the One who can guarantee their growth and longevity. I’m not worried that I’ll lose this deep relationship we’ve developed, because I am not the one who sustains it. Jesus is the creator and sustainer of all things, including my relationship with him, and He will hold me fast. Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Our Cancer Journey, Part Two: He will Hold Us Fast

Last time, I shared about the whirlwind that began with John's diagnosis, and I touched briefly on the faithfulness of God in those early days. I'd like to share more today about God's faithfulness to us, and how he used those 28 days of John's initial treatment in each of us, and in our marriage.

Separate but Together in the Lord
First, I have to say that John and I handled this crisis in very different ways. John is a rock solid, fearless man, at least in my eyes. He has always been a place of safety for me, and I have never worried that he would be unfaithful in any way, or that I would ever be in any danger with him. He is always the calm to my storm, and with few exceptions has never given in to fear or panic. Now, think of the opposite of that, and you have me. I have bounced back and forth between anxiety and depression for as long as I can remember. Led by my emotions, my life was a crazy coaster before salvation, and since I've been saved, it's more like a game of whack-a-mole: I gain victory over fear in one situation, and it pops back up in another one. Clearly these weren't victories, but cease-fires. More on that later.

Being wired so differently had an impact on how we handled this season. John simply put his head down, did what the doctors said, and kept silent. I didn't want to express my fears and sorrow to him, because he needed me to be positive and strong. This was a first for us. This role of the "strong one" was foreign to me and I had no idea how to fill it. Not only that, but my strong protector and place of safety was sick, weak, and unable to provide refuge for me. I began to see that I had been looking to my husband for things only God can give. I was grateful that the Lord allowed me to see this, and I wrote many lines in my journal confessing and repenting of it. We each got through it in our own way, sort of separate but together, as God held us both close to His heart. 

Deep Pain, Abundant Mercies
Those days were bittersweet. We spent more time together than we had in years, yet the reason for our togetherness was dark and heavy. The nurses wanted him to walk the halls several times a day, so we walked together, mostly quiet except for the squeaky wheels of the IV pole that always accompanied us. At the end of the day, we would do one last trip, ending at the door to the air locked unit, where we would kiss goodbye. He would walk alone back to his room, and I would walk alone out into the winding maze of the concrete parking structure, to find my car and drive home. There were few nights I didn't cry as I left. Nothing has ever been as heartbreaking to me as looking back at my poor sweet hubby standing in the hallway in a hospital gown, waving good bye. Most nights, I continued to cry, releasing all the tears I'd held back that day, as I made the 30-minute drive home. I know the Lord was protecting me, because there was no stopping the tears and I made the drive safely every night.

Looking back, I am so grateful for all that the Lord did in my heart and mind during that time. There were no lightning bolts or visions but all along the way, he did small but important things to soften the blow of this illness. John's employer (of just 3 months at the time) was very supportive, and there was never any concern that we would lose our insurance or that he wouldn't have a job when this was all over. There were many days that the Lord miraculously provided a parking space for me in the very crowded parking structure that was always under construction. The bathroom on the unit was off limits to family members, so there was a long walk to the nearest restroom. At first I was afraid this would be too much for my knee, but I never had a moment of pain in the walking, and it really turned out to be a blessing. There were many times I needed that walk to get control of my emotions so I wouldn't cry in front of John. God continually showed Himself faithful in these ways and many more.

When those first 28 days were over, John was declared "in remission" and we were sent home. But the journey was far from over. We had many days of testing and other treatments ahead of us, and also the continued search for a donor. Next time, I'll share with you how God shepherded us through those difficult and fearful steps. 

p.s. I'd like to share with you a book that we read at the time that was very helpful. If you're going through a long, difficult trial, I highly recommend Red Sea Rules.

New Pain, New Gain

Do you suffer from some type of chronic pain or disability?  If so, then you know that fearful sense of dread and doom when a new pain or weakness arises. Perhaps you’ve gotten used to your “new normal,” whatever that may be, and you’ve come to accept—maybe even embrace—your limitations. But then, seemingly out of nowhere, some new pain arises, and you go into a panic.

I don’t know about you, but for me, it would go something like this: “Oh, no! Now what? Did I do something to myself? (At this point I’m wracking my brain for how I may have overdone it at some point recently.) Is this a further progression of my condition? Is this something new, separate from what I’m already dealing with? What new medication or therapy will this require, and how will I fit that into my schedule and budget?” As I’m going through all these questions in my mind, my emotions are revving up, and if I don’t get a handle on them, this will become a genuine panic!

Before I even know what I’m dealing with, I can let my emotions take over. When that happens, whatever twinge inspired the whole thing has become genuine pain because I have become so focused on it. Thankfully, by the grace of God, it has been a long time since new pain inspired such a vortex of emotion for me. God has given me many opportunities to grow in this area, so today I’ll share with you three things that may be helpful to you the next time some new physical affliction surprises you.

Don’t be caught off guard.

That very surprise is the first thing you must guard against. Even those who do not suffer chronic pain must always be prepared for the physical degeneration of their bodies. After all, we are all aging, and, as Paul says in 2 Corinthians 4:18 (AMP), “progressively decaying and wasting away.” So, why are we surprised when something goes wrong with our bodies? Are we especially entitled to have no further pain or physical suffering, just because we already have a lot of it every day?

No, my dear sisters, we are not. Our chronic condition does not win us any special privileges when it comes to the decay of our bodies, so we should expect that these new pains will crop up from time to time. You will be pleasantly surprised at the reduction in fear and anxiety that is produced just by taking out the element of surprise. When you are prepared in your heart for the eventuality of more pain, it loses its power to frighten you.

Set your mind on things above.

Did you know that, according to Colossians 3, you have already died? If so, then what are you fearing right now? Think about it: Deep under the soil of panic over a health issue is that root fear of death. Yes, there are surface fears of medical interventions, increased pain, and decreased capabilities. But underneath those things is a common-to-man fear that inspires them all.  Christ came to take away that fear. Colossians 3 tells us that, as far as this world is concerned, we have died and our new, real life is hidden with Christ in God.

So why do we act as though we are still in bondage to that fear of death? I believe it is because we do not follow the instructions of Colossians 3. We don’t set our minds on things above. We have our mind firmly fixed on just one thing on earth: Our comfort. We forget that, because we have already “died,” we can now live our real life, which is hidden with Christ in God. We have put on the new man, who is renewed in knowledge according to God’s image. We must train ourselves to put off fear and anxiety, and put on that new man, who knows that death is no longer a threat, and God can be trusted.

Get on with life.

As we set our minds on things above, we will be focused on bringing glory to God in our response to this new pain. Instead of focusing on symptoms and relief, we can look outside of ourselves, and into a world where there is pain and sorrow on a level that, by the grace of God, we will never know. How can we sit and stew over some new pain, when others are hurting so much more than we? This is the only time I would ever advise you to compare yourself to others. No matter how much you hurt, there is someone who hurts more. There is someone who has fewer resources than you with which to address her pain. There is someone who has less help; more responsibilities; and more limited mobility.

Begin today to train your heart and mind to fix your eyes on things above, not on things of the earth. Every new pain presents an opportunity to choose: Either you will trust in God, or you will trust in yourself. You cannot do both. God is far more faithful, trustworthy, and good than you or I could ever hope to be. Let’s be prepared. Let’s remember that our bodies will age, and let’s expect new issues from time to time. We can exercise proper care of our bodies, investigating the cause of new pain, but let’s take the fear out of it! The God of the universe, who created your body and knows it better than you ever will, is fully able to lead you through the process.

If you’re still having trouble trusting God, take a look at this video, where my friend Joni, who has been in a wheelchair now for 50 years, will give you some encouragement!

Three Strategies to Beat Self-Pity

Self-pity, like every other sin issue we may face as we deal with our pain and disability, is a thinking problem. But, like every other thinking problem, it begins in the heart. Proverbs 4:23 tells us to guard our hearts, because everything else—thoughts included—flows out of it. So, as the pain becomes more intense, limitations are increased, and life changes yet again, we must diligently guard our hearts against the trap of self-pity. Self-pity is a direct path away from God because it means we have turned our focus to ourselves: Our pain, our loss, our sorrow, and our sadness. As these become bigger and bigger in our thinking, God’s place in our minds becomes smaller and smaller.

So, we know that we must guard our hearts against self-pity, but how? What are the practical steps to take so that we won’t indulge it this time, and the temptation won’t be so strong next time? I believe there are three things that have to happen in our hearts and minds before we will be able to overcome self-pity.

Biblical View of God

Before you can begin to address your view of yourself and your problem, you must have a biblical view of God. Many times, we who suffer with physical pain are perplexed that a good and loving God could allow us to be in such agony. If He loved us, we muse, He would heal and relieve us of our affliction. But wait. Is that really true? What does the Bible say about the goodness of God? I challenge you to do a study on this subject. You will find that none of the proclamations of God’s goodness are dependent on our circumstances or the outcome of our plans. God is God, and He is who He says He is regardless of what is happening in my life or yours. Read A.W. Pink’s The Attributes of God to fully inform your heart of who God is.

Biblical Grief

No matter what the cause of your pain or disability, it constitutes a loss. Maybe you are less mobile, less able to walk, stand, and move. Maybe you’re no longer able to drive, or your pain has caused you to give up favorite hobbies or activities. Perhaps you have friends with whom you no longer share a common interest, and they don’t come around as much. Whatever loss you have sustained, have you grieved it biblically? Have you cried to the Lord about your loss, and told Him how much it hurts? If not, this may be one reason you struggle with self-pity.

I am not saying that you should blame God, or whine at Him. There is such a thing as biblical complaint, and David was a master of it! Get a study Bible and look up the Psalms of Lament for a model and pattern of how to cry out to God about your loss. Dear friend, your life changing pain or disability marks a significant loss, and you must grieve that loss before you can leave self-pity behind. Bob Kelleman’s book, God’s Healing for Life’s Losses is an excellent guide for processing through your sorrow. I use and highly recommend this journaling approach to biblical grief.

Biblical submission

Finally, if we want to get out of self-pity, we must learn biblical submission. Submission is not a word that many people like. In fact, some equate it with oppression! But in biblical terms, submission is a true source of joy. When we submit our hearts to our loving and merciful God, trusting Him for our lives, we can rest. We no longer have to strive with discontentment, dissatisfaction, or self-pity when we know that the loving, all-powerful creator and sustainer of the universe has ordained our circumstances for our good and His glory. What more could we want than to be directly in line with the will of God?

When you are biblically submitted to God, you will not only peacefully accept the condition of your body, but you will thank Him for it! Why? As Paul says in 1 Thessalonians 5:18, we can give thanks in all circumstances because they are God’s will for us in Christ Jesus. Think about this, my dear sister: God thought of you and me, desired to make us more like His precious Son, and came up with the perfect plan to do it! Granted, this might not have been our first choice of how to make that happen, but who are we to argue with God? Read Job 40 and 41 for a glimpse into God’s mind when we question Him!

There is much more that I could say about self-pity. If you’d like to learn more, you can purchase a recording of a breakout session that I did on this subject at last year’s B3 conference, here. The bottom line though, like just about every counseling issue, is knowing who God is, trusting Him, and honestly walking through each day very near to our Healer.

Comparatively Speaking

So, at long last, Christmas is over. The presents have been opened and feasts and parties for 2016 are memories now. I hope you made some good memories with your family and friends. How did you do with the stress of shopping and choosing gifts? I hope you were able to set aside unrealistic expectations and truly enjoy the holiday. But even if you did manage to do that, the holidays are often difficult for another reason.

At Christmastime, we see many people that we don’t see at any other time of year. It can be fun to catch up on what’s happening in their lives, but if we’re not careful, that catching up can cause us to stumble. I found this to be true for me this year, and I thought I would share with you, partly as a way of confessing and partly to see if perhaps any of you have struggled in this way.

Most of my family members are very fitness oriented. They are runners, cyclists, and exercise enthusiasts. Some are marathoners. I, too, have always enjoyed exercise, but my physical challenges limit me to the pool for the most part. I used to love to power walk, cycle, and do aerobics. I’ve had to give those up since my failed knee replacement and the encroachment of osteoarthritis in various joints. As I wrote about here, the loss of my mobility has been a real grieving process for me.

Enter Christmas, and the annual update of all my fitness enthusiast family members, most of whom are older than me. One shared about her continued progress in running; another eagerly told us about her new Cross Fit class and what a blast it is. The marathon runners chimed in too, with pictures of their finish lines and sense of accomplishment. Then, there’s me. I kept quiet in these conversations for the most part, other than offering the obligatory congratulations and encouraging words. In my heart, though, there was a desperate struggle going on between my flesh and my faith.

I have many Scripture verses and passages memorized for moments such as this. For some reason though, they were nowhere to be found. My flesh, which has a maddening tendency toward self-focus and self-pity, won out over the voice of faith, which was trying to tell me that their activities have nothing to do with me. But, alas, it could not outshout my fleshly response, which said, “Why do they get to do these things, while my body becomes more and more disabled with every passing Christmas? It’s not fair!” I am embarrassed to even type those words, but they are the honest truth. Sometimes, I just can’t get past the feelings of loss and grief.

So now, here we are a few days later, and I am back on track. How did I get there? By repenting, and focusing my mind and my heart on Christ instead of on other people or myself. This renewed focus shines a spotlight on what was wrong with my thinking. Here are just a couple of truths the Lord has shown my heart as I’ve thought about how I got to that place of sorrow:

1. Comparing ourselves to others will almost always cause us to sin.

Whether we think we are better off or worse off than someone else, comparison always leads to sin. If I think that I am in better shape than someone else, this will encourage me to be self-reliant, and I will forget my need of Christ. For example, if I see someone in a wheelchair and say to myself, “Well, at least I can walk,” then I will see myself as stronger than she is, and I will be less likely to lean on the Lord. Additionally, the fear of losing my ability to walk may creep into my mind as I look on her state as being worse than mine. After all, it could happen to me, too.

If I see myself as worse off than someone else, then I may become jealous of her, as I did on Christmas, and this can lead to bitterness. The other thing that jealousy does is take relationship and evangelism out of the picture. If I am jealous of someone’s physical ability, then my attitude toward her will be negative at best. How will I represent Christ to her, or even nurture a relationship with her, if my countenance reveals resentment and my motivation to approach her is squashed by envy?

2. There is a direct correlation between sorrow over loss and gratitude for blessings.

As I listened to these conversations on Christmas, I became more and more sorrowful about my losses. Accordingly, my grief got bigger and bigger, and my gratitude got proportionally smaller and smaller. I’d thought that I’d become pretty good at being grateful. I’d begun to thank God for the pool every time my toe hit the water, and I’d developed the good habit of sharing with others how grateful I am for the many ways He has sent comfort in my distresses. In retrospect, I am amazed at how quickly I went from gratitude to grumbling in a single conversation on Christmas day. Reflecting on it, I could almost hear the “whoosh” as gratitude left the building. This just shows me the truth that my will is weak, and my flesh is frail when it comes to combating sinful thoughts in this area.

3. When we are focused on self, we shut down our perception of others’ sorrow.

One of my fitness oriented relatives is estranged from her husband. He has chosen sin over his family, and she was alone on Christmas, without her children, who were with him. By being consumed with jealousy about her marathon, I completely disregarded the pain she must have been feeling as she looked around the room at the happy families sharing Christmas together there, one of which was mine. I had no sense of gratitude for my wonderful husband or my adult children in that moment; no compassion or care for her and her pain, though it is different from mine. When we become consumed with ourselves, my dear sisters, we miss many opportunities to express love and caring for those who may be hurting in a different way than we are.

I am very grateful to the Holy Spirit for His conviction of my sin in this area once again. I also thank the Lord for His forgiveness of me, which is ongoing. Part of my repentance has been prayer for my able-bodied relatives, none of whom know the Lord. I am so thankful that God saved me when He did. I hope that I would be willing to go through much more suffering if it would result in the salvation of my family members, through my testimony of gratitude for Him and love for them. I know that He is able to save them, just as He saved me. Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Red Flags

 I recently received a question from a reader, and as I began to compose my answer, it occurred to me that maybe some of you have the same question. So, I’m posting the question here, with my answer. Perhaps some of you struggle with this question too, and can help the rest of us. Please feel free to comment with your own strategies!

Here’s her question: “Suzanne, do you ever struggle with trying to 'fix' yourself or 'heal' yourself' and find that your thoughts are too much on yourself?” This reader had recently found a supplement that seemed to help with her pain, and it had spurred her to do some more research, trying to find other helps for the physical challenges she faces. As she researched, she realized that she was becoming very focused on pain relief, and she wondered if perhaps she had gotten too absorbed in herself in the process.

As I thought of what my answer would be, I recognized the problem right away in my own heart. I have spent a great deal of time and energy over the years seeking relief from my pain. As you know from reading this blog, I’ve researched surgeries, acupuncture, massage, chiropractic care, supplements, physical therapy—You name it, I’ve either looked into it or tried it. But, each time I go on a “heal-me hunt,” I come to that place where I realize that I have become more focused on pain relief than on God’s glory.

But how do you know when you’re approaching that point? It would be great to have some warning signs that you are crossing over the line between trusting God while seeking what He might provide for you; and seeking pain relief without regard to Him. Looking back over those times that this has happened to me, I see three warning signs that I was going too far:

1. An anxious heart

Any time that my heart becomes anxious as I am seeking pain relief, I know that I have gone too far in pursuit of it. When my search for help becomes consuming, I begin to sense fear that I won’t find the help I want. This is a red flag that I have drifted from trusting God and pursuing His glory, to trusting man (myself included) and pursuing relief. As my reader mentioned in her note, we are to “Seek first the kingdom of God.” When I become anxious as I research, that is a sure sign that I am not seeking my satisfaction in Him first, trusting that “all these things” will be given to me; No, that anxiety tells me that my focus is on pain relief and, ultimately, self-satisfaction.
I believe the anxiety comes from the “what if’s” of chronic pain:  What if I don’t find a cure? What if it gets worse? I’d better do all I can now, because I’m only getting older and it’s not likely that this will get better with age. If you find yourself focused on “what if,” then take that as a warning sign to redirect your thoughts toward a biblical response. How about Proverbs 3:5-6:

Trust in the LORD with all your heart,

And lean not on your own understanding;

In all your ways acknowledge Him,

And He shall direct  your paths.

Ask yourself: Where is God in my research? If it gets worse, where will God be? Will he abandon me at a certain point, if I don’t keep trying to fix this? What do I need right now that He cannot give me? Your answers to these questions will help you determine whether you have gone too far.

2. Waning desire to read my Bible and pray

When the realization first hit me that this surgery had been a disaster, I sat down at my computer and rarely got up from it. I researched message boards, scholarly articles, and medical websites. I followed leads for surgeons who were experienced in this area, and made phone calls to Mayo and other research hospitals, seeking someone who could fix this. I was consumed with finding an answer.
Every time I sat down to read my Bible, I would begin to think about my leg again, and end up back on the computer, looking for something else that had come to mind as I was trying to focus on the Scriptures. I simply could not force myself to concentrate and focus on my reading because my mind was so preoccupied with finding the answer I wanted for my circumstances. In other words, my desire for temporal healing had superseded my longing for spiritual nurturing and growth.

Are you finding that you are less and less interested in God’s Word and more and more into whatever research you are doing? When was the last time you got up from your devotions feeling spiritually refreshed and encouraged? What is your mind occupied with most of the time? When you are not busy or distracted, where does your mind go? Your honest answers to these questions will give you a clue as to whether you’re on the right track.

3. More excitement about potential pain relief than about Christ.

During that time, whenever I found a new supplement, treatment, or technique that I thought might help, I couldn’t wait to tell people about what I had discovered. I knew all the details of how it worked, and how it would affect my situation. I spent time learning all about it, and was eager to tell my friends and family about this exciting new possibility. Other than asking people to pray that it would work, I don’t recall a single spiritual conversation.

Oh, I was still reading my Bible, but in a perfunctory, check-it-off-the-list way. I was rarely encouraged to the point that I wanted to share it with someone else, and my prayer life was very lame. I prayed for the salvation of my children, and I prayed the obligatory prayers for my husband and friends, but my relationship with the Lord was about as deep as a puddle. I was obsessed.

What about you? When was the last time that you shared Christ with someone? Have you experienced times of refreshing in the Word of God, and have you encouraged others with that? When is the last time you just sat and meditated on the goodness of God, or simply praised Him for all of His kindnesses toward you? If it’s been awhile, or you are splashing in puddles like I did, then it’s possible you have tipped the scales of enthusiasm from Christ to pain relief.

These are only a few of the many red flags that the search for pain relief has led to sinful self-focus. I was very happy to receive this question, because it shows that the person is zealous to guard her heart against anything that wants to take the place of God. Even the concern that this might be happening is a wonderful assurance that the Lord is near, prompting and cautioning. What a good Friend He is!
What red flags warn you when you are getting to deep into your desire for relief? Please share in the comments!