Responsibly Dependent

Dear Readers,
This is a previously posted article that garnered a good deal of positive response. I hope you will find it encouraging today!

“You’re just going to have to accept it!”

This was the last sentence of a recent conversation I had with myself about the ever-present pain and dysfunction that has become a part of my life. Believe it or not, after 5 years of ups and downs on this yoyo of health issues, I still struggle to accept the fact that, unless God chooses to heal me, I will deal with pain and problems, difficulty and expense related to it, for the rest of my life.

The physical issues have been tough, but the spiritual issues are on a whole other plane of struggle. The physical pain pales in comparison to the emotional and spiritual struggle that has ensued. Wrestling and fighting against my flesh, to trust the God who allowed this, has been the hardest thing I have had to do as a believer. Yet, the Lord has been so patient and so strong, sustaining me through it all. I love Him, and I know that He loves me. But oh, how I long for healing!

I believe that this is a struggle I will have for the rest of my life. I will not give up hoping for improvement, and I will never stop trying new things. I don’t think trying to get better tells the world I haven’t “accepted what God has for me,” as some have suggested. I believe the Lord has given me a brain and discernment, and if He puts something in front of me that could help, I will get wise counsel about it and consider it. But, while I won’t stop trying to get better, I must learn to keep my heart from sinful focus on the pain and the ways that it limits me.

So my question today is, how do I get to the place where I am content and satisfied in Christ, even as I am suffering and working to improve my current circumstances? How do I move on from my mental whining and complaining, and gain peace and whatever measure of happiness a believer in this world can have, while at the same time refusing to give up on healing? I believe the answer can be summed up in one word: Gratitude. As a believer, I’m sure that you are thankful for the many mercies the Lord has shown you in your pain and suffering: medicines that help with pain, a soft bed, comfortable shoes, a dear friend—there are thousands of provisions the Lord has made for you as you have struggled with your health problem.

But I’d like you to consider being thankful for something else. I want you to be thankful for your suffering. Grateful for your pain, your problems, your sickness. If this is the first time you've received this challenge, you might think it is one that is impossible to meet. Be thankful for the thing that has ruined my life? Grateful for the condition that has forever changed me, my family and my future? Can I really thank God for something, and pray that He would take it away, at the same time? Wouldn’t it seem insincere to thank the Lord for my pain, and ask Him to heal it at the same time?

As I pondered this prospect, I discovered that I could indeed be thankful for my pain, even as I begged the Lord to take it from me. How did I do that? By meditating on the mercy of God. Would you believe that I discovered that God was merciful in allowing my suffering? He provided that suffering for a number of purposes, I’m sure, but the one that is most evident to me is the way it has drawn me to Him. As I have gone through these past 5 years of ups and downs, one thing has been constant: The Lord has been with me. Psalm 32:8 promises the Lord’s guidance, and I have not been disappointed. He has led me through many peaks and valleys, and because of that, I have grown to trust Him more. Though attempts to strengthen physical muscles have been futile, I am stronger spiritually than I have ever been in my life.

There have been many days when I felt that I could not go on, yet He was there, urging me along through His Word, even giving me the desire to read it in the first place! I am a better, stronger Christian today because of this thorn in my flesh. And though I have asked Him many more than three times to remove it, His reply is always the same: “My grace is sufficient for you” (2 Corinthians 12:9). So far, that has proven to be a trustworthy promise. By His grace, I am still walking today. By His grace, I have many undeserved comforts in my pain; many human representatives of Christ to encourage me; and a rich history of His faithfulness, just in my own life, just in these past 5 years; not to mention the entire Bible full of evidence and documentation of that same faithfulness.

Because of His mercy, I was afflicted. He knew exactly what it would take to make me the person He wants me to be. So, I will thank Him for this bittersweet provision. Though I would not have chosen this particular affliction, I see now that it has been, and continues to be, the perfect tool for breaking down my pride and my self-reliance. It has humbled me, and I’m sure it will continue to do so. I am not the same person I was before all this happened, and I must tell you today, I’m glad: Glad to know that I am not entitled to perfect health, or even my next breath. Glad to see that it really is true that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me, even as He shows me my weakness. As Job 5:17 and 18 so clearly states,

“…blessed is the man whom God corrects,

so do not despise the discipline of the Almighty.

For he wounds, but he also bandages;

he strikes, but his hands also heal.

While I don’t believe that my physical pain was directly brought on by my sin or anyone else’s, I do believe the Lord uses it to correct many sinful heart attitudes, and I am thankful for that correction. I have a big, ugly scar from the surgery that was the start of all these physical problems. That scar will be there for the rest of my life. It could be a sad reminder of that fateful, life-changing day. But I choose to let it represent the wound of mercy that my creator granted me, so that I could glorify Him, fulfilling the purpose  for which I was created. By His mercy He has wounded me, and by His mercy He will heal my sinful heart through those wounds.

So, how do I answer that statement at the beginning of this post? Must I accept this affliction? No. Much more than that, I  must embrace it as God’s perfect tool to mold and shape me into the believer He wants me to be. I am far from perfect, but because of His mercy that brought this thorn, I am more like Him than I was before it came. Oh my friend, won’t you consider the mercy and love of God in your physical pain, and begin to thank Him for His work in you? I hope that you will say with me, Hallelujah! What a mercy! What a Savior!

Christ Is My Life?

For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. (Philippians 1:21)

I have been pondering this verse lately, rolling around in my mind what it might mean, and what the application might be for those of us who suffer with ongoing physical pain or disability. From our perspective, the second half of this is kind of a no-brainer. Of course, we would gain much if we died. While our loved ones might grieve, we would gain relief from our pain, a return to a fully functional, perfect body, and eternal fellowship with the Lord. What greater gain could there be?

But the first half of the verse is the puzzler. To live is Christ? There are several other verses that speak of Christ being our life. Colossians 3:3-4 says,

For you died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is our life appears, then you also will appear with Him in glory.

This says that Christ is our life. What does it mean that Christ is our life? Well, it means that He is ruler of our life, and our sustainer. Ideally, it means that He is at the center of our hearts, and that our thoughts, beliefs, and desires are under His command. Our sin nature, our fleshly desires, and our inability to overcome these things are no longer in control of our hearts. Christ is.

Or how about Galatians 2:20:

I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.

This one sheds a little more light on the subject. We live this new life by the faith that He supplies to us, because of His loving sacrifice. Christ has chosen this broken body to dwell in. Because He lives in me, my heart is transformed and new, so I can resist the temptation to complain or dwell on my pain. Clearly, having Christ in me gives me a choice as to how I respond: I can respond according to my old nature, or according to Christ. Not only do I have a choice, but I have the ability to make the right one (1Corinthians 10:13; 2 Corinthians 10:4-5).

Ok, so my life is Christ, and I live it by the faith He supplies. So what? How does this help me with my pain? Well, Colossians 1:27 wraps up the principle here:

To them God willed to make known what are the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles: which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.

Christ in me is the hope of glory! When I choose to obey the Spirit rather than the flesh, I present the hope of glory to a watching world. When I choose to obey Christ, my hope is built up, and my heart is encouraged, because I know that I’m not capable of doing so in my flesh. This is confirmation for me that He is living in me, working in me, and preparing me for that glorious day when I will meet Him face to face! As I respond rightly to my pain or suffering, I am reassured of the hope that I have, and others who are watching are encouraged, too!

To live is Christ, my dear sisters. Please share in the comments how you are living differently because Christ is in you, and because you are living by faith in Him. Let’s encourage one another!

Come, Weary Saints

My grandma was an amazing lady. I spent a week with her several summers in a row, and it was always a learning experience. She was born and raised in what she called the “hillbilly holler” of southern Missouri. I don’t know a lot about her childhood, but I’m pretty sure she grew up without much in the way of material things, and I got the impression that her life was pretty difficult. She thought nothing of wringing a chicken’s neck or skinning a squirrel (yes, we ate squirrel), and she worked very hard in her garden, and at canning its produce. The coolest thing about my grandma was that she could cut a wasp in half with her sewing scissors, mid-flight! I’m not kidding, I saw her do it more than once.

Grandma was tough. I always admired her strength and endurance, but every now and then, she would sit down beside me on the porch swing and say, “Suzy, I am bone weary.” I didn’t really understand what she meant back then, being nine or ten years old and unfamiliar with such weariness. But, as this life goes on, I hear her voice in my head pretty often, as I now understand what it means to be bone weary. Do you?

We who suffer with chronic pain know at least as well as anyone else what weariness is. Sometimes, we begin the day already weary, from a night of tossing and turning, trying to ease aching joints or the pain of disease. Being weary is different from being tired, though. Sometimes, being tired can mean a day well spent doing the work of life, having a sense of productivity or accomplishment. Weariness, though, has an element of emotion. Weariness is more than tired. It is tired and drained. Tired and worn. Tired and weak. Weariness is spiritual.

There is a beautiful song that I often sing to myself, called Hide Away in the Love of Jesus. Here are a few of the words:

Come, weary saints, though tired and weak

Hide away in the love of Jesus

Your strength will return by His quiet streams

Hide away in the love of Jesus

I love these lyrics! Weary saints don’t get their strength back by sleep or physical rest alone, as much as we do just by being near to Him. While sleep is good and necessary for those who are tired, weary ones need those quiet streams: To get off alone with the Lord, to hide away in His love.

Come, wandering souls, and find your home

Hide away in the love of Jesus

He offers the rest that you yearn to know

Hide away in the love of Jesus

Like it or not, we are prone to wander. When pain is intense and the pressures of life threaten to overwhelm us, we may be tempted to drift from the Lord, disappointed in what seems to be unanswered prayers for relief. This beautiful lyric invites us to return to the Lord, finding our home once again in Him. He knows our yearning for rest, and He wants to satisfy it with His love.

Hear Him calling your name

See the depths of His love

In the wounds of His grace

Hide away

Just as He called you at the moment of your salvation, He is calling you now in your weariness, dear reader. He loves you with an everlasting love, and He calls you His own. Just as my dear grandmother used to call me back home when I had wandered too far down her gravel road, our Lord calls us back to His side, and reminds us once again of the depth of His love, and of the price He paid for our weary soul. So come, hide away in His love, and rest. Your weariness will be turned to worship, and your wandering to rest. Hallelujah! What a Renewer! What a Savior!

Submission

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about submission, particularly in the area of submitting to God’s will for me in the pain that I experience. As you and I wrestle with pain as believers, our desire (ideally) is to be submitted to God’s will for us. We pray for a heart that is submitted to His perfect plan for our lives, and we long to have peace about that plan. Some days, even sometimes for weeks or months at a time, we experience that sense of peace, and believe that we have “finally” submitted our will to His, and can move past the sorrow and grief over what has become our lives.

But then, as it happened for me this week, something new or different comes up. Our pain increases or our disease progresses, and the increased suffering refreshes the grief, and makes us wonder if we were ever really submitted at all. Perhaps that was a false peace that was produced, merely by getting used to the pain or having some sense of control over it. I am back in physical therapy, trying to overcome the regression in my condition since the last round of PT. Scar tissue has thickened, and my knee has stiffened considerably since the last time I was in therapy. The practitioner is working hard to get me back to a more functional range of motion, but the process is extremely painful and I have been struggling with contentment and submission these last few weeks.

This morning, I talked with a friend about my frustration: “Why do I still get such a deep sense of grief and sadness about this physical situation? When will I ever finally make peace with God about it, being totally submitted to Him in the circumstance? At this point, I am almost more frustrated about what seems to be an unwillingness to submit my heart to His will for me, than I am about the pain and dysfunction of the leg!”

My friend asked me some very good questions, which had me thinking and wrestling for the rest of the day with this: What does submission look like? Is it walking around all the time with a big smile on my face, never feeling sad about the losses I’ve experienced because of this pain? Does it mean that I would never revisit the grief of knowing that things could have been different “if only” I had known in the early days after that surgery, what I know now? Does it mean that, when these things do come up, I can bounce back in ten minutes or less? I believe the answer to all of these questions is no.

I do not believe that the Lord expects us to turn some kind of spiritual corner, after which we never feel sad about our loss again. Paul asked the Lord three times to remove the thorn in his side. Some believe this thorn was a physical problem, while others say it was persecution. Regardless, Paul clearly desired to be rid of it. I don’t believe he asked only three times, either. Maybe up to the point of that writing he had only asked three times, but there’s nothing that says he never asked again, or that he never grieved over that particular thing again. Even a cursory look at the Psalms confirms that committed followers of God ache, grieve, and cry over their pain. Our dear Savior Himself also grieved much. He lamented over Israel; wept over the death of Lazarus; and cried out to God in the Garden of Gethsemane, that he might be excused from His ultimate suffering.

So, if the evidence of submission is not a complete forgetting and never feeling sad again, then how are we to know whether or not we are submitted to God in our pain? As I have pondered this, the Lord has brought to my mind three questions that might help us sort through the many emotions and responses that our pain produces, and figure out if we are submitted sufferers or recalcitrant rebels:

1. Do you desire contentment in pain, and do you long to be fully submitted to God’s will, or is there a part of you that is still nursing resentment toward God about your situation? You will need the Lord’s help to discern the thoughts and intents of your heart, because it is deceitful (Jeremiah 17:9). If you’re not sure, commit yourself to prayer, asking the Lord to reveal to you the truth about your heart. He is faithful, and will do it.

2. Where are you taking your feelings of frustration and sorrow? Are you complaining to friends and snapping at family, or are you crying out to the Lord for His help and comfort? Again, examine your life lately. Think about your relationships. If you’re not sure, ask your friends and family what they are experiencing as they relate with you. Give them permission to be honest, and ask the Lord to prepare you to humbly receive their answers.

3. Have feelings of hopelessness begun to creep into your heart? This is a sure sign of two things: Your focus has shifted from Christ to your pain, and you have planted your hope in physical healing instead of in Christ. Colossians 3 tells us to think on things above, not on things of the earth. I believe that God inspired Paul to write this passage because He knew that we would be tempted in exactly this way. There is nothing like a painful condition to tempt us to fix our minds on earthly things, and if we are consumed with our pain, then we are not submitted in it.

I’m sure there are other heart tests to diagnose whether or not we are submitted to God, but the bottom line is this: Even if we are fully submitted to God’s will for our lives, we are still frail, human creatures with weaknesses of which our Creator is fully aware. His expectation of us is simply that we look to Him in our pain, and trust Him in the process. He does not require plastic smiles, emotionless suffering, or complete self-forgetfulness. He wants us to want to submit to Him in all of our circumstances, both happy and otherwise. The good news is that even that desire to submit is a gift from Him, not something that we can muster up on our own.

So, take heart, my dear sister. Even if our little submission test today has revealed sin issues, remember that it is God who grants repentance and hope. Take your pain, your sorrow, and your grief to the Lord in prayer. Never hesitate to beg and plead for healing, but if physical healing doesn’t come, never doubt that He can heal your heart, soften your stubborn will, and bring you into joyful submission to His plan. 

But remember, joyful submission may look like tears, sadness, and sorrow at times. Get rid of the misconception that, once you are submitted, you will never cry over your loss again, and embrace the truth that you are human, with feelings and emotions that will sometimes spill over when pain brings them to the tipping point. And when that happens, trust the Lord to collect those tears in His bottle, and to offer you the comfort and love of His gracious heart. Hallelujah! What a Comforter! What a Savior!

Suffering With(out) Hope

Yesterday at physical therapy, I met a lady who is in a great deal of pain. She had a total hip and a total knee replacement a few years ago, and neither of them has proven to bring improvement in her pain. Not only that, but she also has neurological issues that cause painful burning and pins-and-needles in her arms. Back pain is also on the list of her chronic issues. This lady seemed very sad, and though I only overheard these facts as she told them to the therapist, I couldn’t help but express my sympathy to her. With tears welling up in her eyes, she said, “I’m just so tired of being in pain all the time.”

Can you relate, my suffering sisters? I certainly can! After making that statement, she turned the other way and her therapist started applying ice, so I didn’t get to respond. But, as I silently prayed for her, I began to think of what it would be like to have such pain without Christ. Now, I don’t know whether this lady is a believer or not. I hope to see her again and get a chance to find out. But meanwhile, my heart is heavy for those who suffer ongoing pain, day after day, without the hope of the Gospel to comfort them.

How does that hope comfort you? Today, I’d like to share a few things that are particularly encouraging to me in my pain, and I would love it if you would leave your input in the comments.

The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of the comfort I have in Christ is the truth that my pain is not without purpose. I cannot imagine being in constant pain without knowing that there is a greater purpose in it. I use my experience of suffering, and the ways He has come to my aid, with many of the counselees I see. It gives me a platform to speak to any kind of pain they may bring to counseling. This has enabled me to develop rapport, and a level of involvement that I would never have had without it. I also know that my pain develops my faith, and makes me more dependent on Christ. The more I draw near to Him, spending time in His Word and in prayer, the more like Him I will become, and the more glory I will bring to His name. Since God’s glory is the reason I was created, my pain helps me to fulfill the purpose of my life.

Secondly, I know that my pain is ordained by a holy, loving, merciful, compassionate God, who will not allow one twinge of pain more than is necessary to accomplish His purposes. Without Christ, pain is random and senseless but more than that, it is cruel. Without Christ, my botched surgeries would seem like a cruel trick, and I would be very fearful of what might be next for me in this senseless series of events. Instead, my loving God provides perfectly timed ups and downs in this journey, as He molds and shapes my heart to be conformed to His image. I can trust that he will send just the right relief, or just the right challenge, at just the right time, always accompanied by His dear presence.

Finally, I do not experience my pain in isolation. This suffering is experienced in the context of the Body of Christ. As I share honestly about my struggle, other believers come alongside to encourage me, and to lift up my struggle before the Lord for His help. There are many others in this body who also struggle with physical pain, and He arranges for us to interact, so that we might encourage one another. I cannot imagine dealing with this suffering alone, or even in the company of other suffering, hopeless, godless individuals. How demoralizing it would be simply to commiserate with others who are just as frustrated and weary as I, yet have no hope to offer. How easy it would be to become bitter and depressed!

Though our pain can be sorrowful and difficult, let’s praise the Lord together today that it has purpose; that it comes from the hand of the Author of Love; and that it happens in fellowship with others who also know Him. As I pray for this lady at physical therapy, I am so thankful that my Father has scooped me up out of darkness and brought me into His light, turning my pain to purpose, and my sorrow to hope. Hallelujah! What a Friend! What a Savior!

  

More Answered Prayer

                

Last week, I wrote about going back to therapy for more treatments on my leg, the bad memories and emotions I knew that would bring up, and my plan for thinking rightly about it. I walked into the clinic focused on Christ, with a prayer-stoked determination to resist taking my eyes off of my Healer, no matter what the therapist’s measurements showed. God was faithful, and he truly did help me to maintain that focus. I, however, failed to take advantage of that help, and I did become somewhat emotional after finding out that I have lost a significant measure of flexibility in the knee. While the extension (straightening) has stayed about the same as when I left, the flexion, or bend, has significantly decreased. This was a surprise to me, because the problem has always been the extension. This flexion issue kind of snuck up on me, and I wasn’t expecting it.

I did manage to hold it together till I got home, but by the time I pulled in my driveway, I could feel my resolve slipping, and those old despairing thoughts starting to circle the drain. Now, I know exactly the right thing to do in situations like this, and I suspect that you do, too. My biblical counselor brain kept saying, “Go get your Bible! Find those passages that have been so helpful to you, and read them and pray!” But my self-focused, self-pitying emotions were also shouting: “Oh, no! How could this have happened? What went wrong? I’ve done everything I can to keep this leg moving. This is surely a sign that the knee is going downhill, and I’m going to have to have another surgery! Who can I call and tell my sad news? I can’t handle this, Etc, Etc.”

Thankfully, the biblical counselor voice was shouting louder than my emotions, and I did go into my room, pray, and read those familiar passages, and guess what—As He always does when I obey Him, He led me to encouragement. The passage I turned to today was 2 Corinthians 4:17-18, in the Phillips paraphrase:

This is the reason why we never lose heart. The outward man does indeed suffer wear and tear, but every day the inward man receives fresh strength. These little troubles (which really are so transitory) are winning for us a permanent, glorious and solid reward out of all proportion to our pain. For we are looking all the time not at the visible things but at the invisible. The visible things are transitory; it is the invisible things that are really permanent.

There are so many bits of encouragement here! What a good reminder this was for me. Yes, my outward man is definitely suffering wear and tear, but I get fresh strength every day! These troubles really are very transitory. My stiff knee is not permanent, even though it is sunk in concrete! What is permanent is my reward, which will be far more glorious and wonderful than I can imagine.

I simply must do what I resolved to do before I went to that appointment: Look all the time at what is really permanent: Jesus Christ. His power, His love, His mercy, His omnipotence, His sovereignty, His heart. He loves me more than I could ever imagine, and this news today did not surprise Him or confound Him. He knows what I need better than I do, and if that is ten degrees less flexion than last year, then He has a purpose for it. I trust that He will use it for my good and His glory as I keep my focus on Him. Hallelujah! What a promise! What a Savior!

Answered Prayer, Revisited

A year or so ago, I wrote about a new therapy I had that was very successful in reducing the pain and immobility in my knee. In case you missed it, you can read about it here and here, and here too! In that first post, I talked about concerns I had that this therapy might not bring permanent change, and that my knee might revert back to how it was before. This is exactly what has happened. Over time, in spite of continuing to do the PT exercises and such, the knee has declined somewhat. It is still much better than before the therapy, but it is definitely not as good as when we first finished. So today, I will return to my therapist for a repeat of this series of treatments, in the hope that I will benefit from it as before.

As I began to think about getting more therapy, all of the old anxieties and worries began to resurface. Not that I’m worried that it will be painful or difficult, or even that it won’t work as I hope. I know that the Lord can use me for His glory no matter what condition my body is in, and I can rest in that. There is just something about physical therapy that brings up all kinds of emotional junk. Going to therapy brings back so many unpleasant memories, all of which are accompanied by the emotions of the early days after the surgery that started me on this journey.  There was a great deal of intense physical pain back then, and I had not yet had the benefit of this refining fire to strengthen me against despair, as I have now. I really have nothing to fear today, yet there is this gnawing dread.

Now, if I took my feelings to a psychologist, she would probably tell me that I have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Any time that something really terrible, traumatic, or painful happens, there can be ongoing fear, depression, flashbacks, and other symptoms that would be categorized as PTSD. I don’t doubt the validity of this condition at all, as it seems to me that these feelings and symptoms would come naturally after a traumatic event. In other words, it seems like a normal, natural response. Where the psychologist and I would part ways, however, is when it comes to treatment.

I don’t know whether you could describe my problem as PTSD or not, but whatever it is, I know the solution: I have to change my thinking from self-focused, worldly thinking, to Christ-focused, biblical thinking. As I think about going to this appointment, I need to make sure my focus is on Christ, not on myself, my leg, or any other earthly thing. As bad memories and painful changes come to mind, I must take those thoughts captive to the obedience of Christ. Instead of allowing “flashbacks” to lead me into thoughts of pain, regret, and what-if’s, I must think on the many ways the Lord has provided for me and blessed me through those things I am remembering. But even more than thinking on His work in this trial, I need to think on Him.

The Hymn, Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus came to mind as my friend and I talked about how thinking on Christ would quiet these fearful thoughts. One line of it especially echoed in my head:

Turn your eyes upon Jesus. Look full in His wonderful face; and the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.

I looked up that hymn today with the intention of reminding myself of the rest of the words, and I stumbled across a brief biography of the author, Helen Lemmel. She got her inspiration for this song from the writings of Lillias Trotter, a brilliant artist who gave up her pursuit of art when she surrendered her life to become a missionary to the Muslims in Algeria.  The following is an excerpt from Trotter’s tract, Which Passion Will Prevail?

“Turn your soul's vision to Jesus, and look and look at Him, and a strange dimness will come over all that is apart from Him."

As I read these words, a light came on in my heart, and I realized that my soul’s vision has not been turned to Jesus, but to the things He does for me. As I’ve wrestled these last few weeks with the knowledge that I will have to do something about my knee soon, I’ve tried hard to change my focus to remember how God has provided, protected, healed, and helped me, and I’d thought that this was the path to peace about the situation. But, once again, the Lord must remind me that it’s not about me, even if it’s about Him and me. It has to be just about Him. I must die to myself and focus only on Christ if I am to overcome fear about this, or any circumstance in this world.

My dear friend, are you living in dread of an impending appointment with a doctor, therapist, or surgeon? Fearful of a procedure you know you must have, or depressed about a relentlessly painful condition? Turn your eyes upon Jesus. Look and look at Him. Read the red letters in the Gospels, and really soak your heart in Christ. I have to leave soon for my appointment, but first I’m going to open my Bible and look at Christ, His heart, His love and compassion for me. In other words, I will draw near to the Healer. As I do so, I know that the things of earth, including the fears that accompany this therapy, will grow strangely dim. I will look to the light of His glory and grace, and be healed.

I’ll leave you with a link to a video of the song. I hope you’ll listen, and turn your soul’s vision to Jesus today.