Are you unable to serve God in the way you want? Have you ever felt like you have almost nothing to offer God and others?
I have. My chronic illnesses mean I have days and in the past years, where I can do almost nothing but lay in bed. At my worst, I depended on my family to bring my food to my bedside, to wash my hair, and to push me in my wheelchair. Almost all I could offer God and others was a testimony of trusting Him as laid very weak and sick in bed. My health has since improved, allowing me enough mental focus to pray for others and the strength to write encouraging cards and to run this blog, but still, compared to my healthy friends, I can’t give much. It can be discouraging to be able to contribute so little, but what does God say about my seemingly small gifts? Let’s look at Mark 12:41-44. "And He [Jesus] sat down opposite the treasury and watched the people putting money into the offering box. Many rich people put in large sums. And a poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which make a penny. And He called his disciples to Him and said to them, 'Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.'” In her book, But God, Wouldn’t I Be More Useful to You if I Were Healthy?, Esther Smith explains, "Jesus looked at the widow’s small offering and saw anything but insignificance. He was greatly pleased with her sacrifice, despite the small quantity she had to give. Contrary to the ways of this world, Jesus sees service as an act of sacrifice, not a competition to see who can give the most. Just as the widow gave out of a poverty of financial ruin, in the same way, those who live with debilitating chronic pain give out of a poverty of health." Friend, like me, you may have an illness that keeps you from offering much, but just give God what you can from your limited energy and resources. In the eyes of Jesus, your encouraging note and prayer for someone hurting may be an even bigger sacrifice than someone else's mission trip. Jesus counts not what you give but what you keep, and He knows what you have to offer is different than a healthy person. After all, He’s a God who counts two copper coins as a precious gift.
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Today I'm excited to share a guest post from my friend Tammi Rhoney. May you be encouraged by her powerful testimony. Thorns hurt! We have several rose bushes in our backyard, and when I accidentally brush my hand or arm against one, OUCH! is the first word out of my mouth. Sometimes the wound is deep and the pain is so sharp that it brings tears to my eyes. Thorns are a lot like the severe trials that the LORD brings into our lives. They humble us, hurt us, and often cause lots of tears, disappointments, frustrations, and pain. My most challenging thorn from God’s Hand to date is when I first became chronically ill in 1993 with severe Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (M.E.). This thorn has been much more challenging than the amputation of my left leg in 1986 and was very unplanned and unwanted. I spent the first few years almost constantly pleading with the LORD to remove it. I wanted a “quick fix” from my suffering, but as Sinclair Ferguson says, “God is not in the business of quick fixes.” So, after much pleading, begging and bargaining with God for my thorn to be removed like Paul did in 2 Corinthians 12:8, the complete healing that I longed for never came. Obviously the Lord had more in mind than my happiness. He wants me to learn the character qualities that Paul spoke about in Romans 5:1-5 and James mentions in James 1:2-3, specifically endurance, perseverance, godly character, and hope in my ongoing trial with M.E. However, in 2001 and in His great mercy, God did provide for me to be in a drug study at my doctor’s office in Charlotte with an experimental drug called Ampligen. Ampligen is only administered through an IV and is not yet FDA approved, but getting closer. Since 2001, I’ve been on and off of Ampligen for 6 ½ years now, and thankfully the Lord has used this drug to help me feel better and improve some of my physical and cognitive symptoms over a very long period of time. Now, twenty-eight years later, my thorn is still with me, but I’ve come a long way from where I was physically. Like it or not, I’m still an M.E. sufferer and have endured much chronic suffering through the twenty-eight years I’ve been ill. It’s possible that this thorn will be with me for the rest of my earthly life, but over time God has given me a different perspective. Instead of hating my affliction, I’m learning to be thankful for my thorn and what God is teaching me through it. I try daily to remember and heed God’s command in Scripture to “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing and give thanks in all circumstances for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus,” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 ESV), but some days it’s still very hard because of my limitations and the isolation. God teaches the true Christian much through physical suffering although in America we don’t welcome it. Some of the ways God has used M.E. in my life include showing me my sins, humbling me (I had to crawl around our home for ten months wearing my husband’s red soccer knee pads), and conforming me more into Christ’s image, which is an extremely slow, painful and ongoing sanctification process until I reach my Heavenly home. He has slowed me down significantly through my affliction and is teaching me the importance of being more of a Mary instead of a Martha (Luke 10:38-42) and how it pleases Him when I offer up my “Widow’s Mite” of energy in service to Him each day (Luke 21:1-4). I’m learning that it’s not the doing in this life that’s most important, although it has its place. The biggest priority of the Believer is to know God better, to love Him more and to desire, above all else, to be more like Jesus. Affliction has a way of showing me my sins in all of their glory so that I can repent of them daily and the insignificance of things that I once thought were very important, but are of no eternal value. It has forced me to be in the Word more and prioritize what really matters in this life, deepened my prayer life and dependence on the LORD, given me a deep empathy for others going through severe trials and difficulties, and given me a more intimate relationship with Christ. In our humanness and sinfulness, we tend to think of physical suffering as a curse and waste, especially when it rules out active Christian service. However, our Sovereign, good and very faithful God can and does bring good out of pain and suffering for the true Christian as He promises to do in Romans 8:28. We can trust God with our pain and suffering, even offering it back to Him as a sacrifice. It might even provide a way of serving God. I love this quote by Margaret Clarkson in her excellent book Grace Grows Best in Winter, “…I wonder if the pain itself may not be a source of service to God. True service is spiritual, consisting not so much in doing as in being; and the quality of service one may bring is not determined by its quantity, nor by much activity. If a soul that has been taught to suffer can look up into the face of the Savior and not only accept severe pain as from His Hand, but thank Him for it, knowing that it is good, even perfect, just because it comes from Him, may not that soul be offering to God one of the purest forms of worship and service known to the spirit of man?” Those of us who are chronically ill have the blessing of offering up our physical suffering, sorrow, pain, fatigue, disappointment, whatever it may be, to God as an offering and to rest in the palm of His Hand. I’m learning to be thankful for my thorn and the opportunity to know my Suffering Savior better through it. Tammi Rhoney loves JESUS, the doctrines of Justification & Predestination, beautiful butterflies, bird watching, photography, sewing, and stenciling. Her favorite seasons are spring and fall. Because she is mostly homebound, she takes photos in her backyard, adds Scripture to them and makes them into 2 cards sizes and 5 canvas sizes. You can view her photos on her Facebook page titled “Tammi Rhoney Photography.” She also loves her very supportive and helpful husband of almost 25 years, Todd, and her black & tan miniature dachshund named Mini.
Hope. It’s what we crave most when suffering. We long to see the light at the end of the tunnel. We long to know that our pain isn’t random or senseless. It’s because of this longing that Kristen Wetherell and Sarah Walton wrote Hope When It Hurts: Biblical Reflections to Help You Grasp God’s Purpose in Your Suffering. I have read many books on suffering, but Hope When It Hurts is a favorite. It’s one that I reread every year and often flip open when I’m struggling the most. I love this book because Kristen and Sarah don't shy away from hard realities but write about them with compassion and a gospel perspective. They vulnerably share their own struggles and show how God is at work on even their worst days. Their book is a “balm for weary hearts,” as Nancy DeMoss Wolgemuth put it. This is a book for anyone suffering, be it physical, emotional, or psychological. The cloth cover and ribbon bookmark may appeal more to women, but men will be blessed as well. Each chapter ends with a prayer, a few questions for reflection, and a page to journal your thoughts. It reads like a devotional, but it is deep and rich. In 30 brief chapters, Kristen and Sarah work their way through 2 Corinthians 4 and 5 and show that it is possible to suffer and not lose heart. They remind us that God is with us, that He brings purpose to our pain, and that He understands suffering because He has suffered Himself. They remind us of heaven and encourage us to fix our eyes on the unseen. They point us to hope, even when it hurts. To learn more about Kristen and Sarah's book and to hear their testimony as they struggle with lyme disease, watch the 3.5 minute video below. You can buy their book, download free wallpaper, and read Stories of Hope (mine is included) on Kristen and Sarah's website hopewhenithurts.com. Hope When It Hurts is also available on Amazon and Christian Book Distributors. What is a favorite Christian book you've read on suffering? Share your recommendation below.
I didn't need to be told what it meant when I heard the awful screech last Wednesday. I raced out of bed to your cage in the living room. Mom and Dad soon joined me. There you were laying limp and lifeless on your back. When I put my finger to your chest and there was no pulse, it was clear to me that my sweet little lovebird was gone. I don't know what caused your death. You were sleeping more as you grew older, but you weren't showing obvious signs of illness. Oh, Esther! My heart broke to see you laying there at the bottom of your cage. I cried. I cried because I loved you so much for the thirteen years we were together. Loving you made losing you harder, but I don't regret it. C.S. Lewis wisely wrote, "To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable." And so I quickly made the decision to love again. Not three hours had passed before Mom, Dad, and I were bringing three new lovebirds home. The widower of the friend who originally gave you to my family wanted me to have all his remaining lovebirds. I was touched by his kindness. I'm told these three are old, but I've chosen to love and enjoy them for however long they are with me. I've named them Valerie, Emily, and Francis (CeCe for short). At first, they weren't as tame as you, but they're warming up to me already. They're learning that they can trust me and have stopped biting my hand. I'm inspired by the human mama you and they both shared before she died two years ago. She worked as a NICU nurse and loved and cared for all her birds, even if it meant carrying them in a baby sling or taping splayed legs. She valued every life and together with her husband fought actively for the unborn and adopted children. Here are some pictures of the many baby lovebirds she raised. Esther, you were a good pet, and I have many happy memories of you. I remember when we brought you home and I was so small that your cage towered above me. I was young enough to play with dolls then, so a few times I let you walk around and explore my large doll house. More recently I remember when my massage therapist came to our house twice a week, and we watched and talked about you as I received lymphatic drainage. I always enjoyed introducing you to company and letting them pet you. Sometimes I'd bring you into my bedroom, close the door, and let you fly. You loved to land on my head and climb up and down my long hair, occasionally leaving a gift while you were at it. Now I'm making similar memories with Valerie, Emily, and CeCe. One memory of you especially sticks out to me. A month before you died, you sat on my shoulder while I read The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. Last Wednesday, I cried as I covered your warm body with cold dirt, but I buried you knowing one day this winter will melt. One day Jesus will return, the curse will be over, and death and sorrow will be no more.
I miss you, my sweet little feathered friend, but I'm thankful for the thirteen years we had together. You were an embodiment of hope and joy to me. I am sad, but my heart rejoices as I hear three new friends singing that same tune you sang to me on even the darkest days. It's just three times louder now. Last week, I sat in the grass with friends and their horses. Their newborn foals ran to me, curious, sweet, and playful. The sun shone bright and warm, so I wore my medical cooling vest with ice packs in each pocket. I wore it for my own benefit, but I think the foals enjoyed it almost as much on that hot day. They kept licking my vest for it must have felt refreshing. Then they began to amuse themselves by playing with my shoes and laces. One tugged playfully at my sleeve. As I watched the foals, I was struck by just how happy they were to be alive. They ran in circles, tumbled down the hillside, then rested and bathed in the sunlight. It reminded me that life is a gift that is meant to be celebrated. The little foals seemed to marvel at everything, as one does when experiencing a first. Like them, I want to live with that awe and wonder. In some ways, I am, for as I regain health simple pleasures such as the ability to eat foods I used to carry an EpiPen for, walking, and even this visit now seem like miracles. I feel a thrill in my heart when I breath in fresh air, stare at the vast blue sky and distant hills, and smell the sweet grass.
I enjoy these things so much because for most of the past six years I have primarily lived in bed, and I still spend much of my time there. It's sobering to realize how many pleasures I am oblivious to until they are taken away. How many daily blessings am I still blind too, and how do I reconnect them with wonder? I don't exactly know, but I think the advice of Mary Oliver is a good place to start. "Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it." But lest I make it seem as if living with wonder is complete bliss, let me add that wonder also requires an open heart. If I am to poignantly feel the joys of this world, I must deeply feel the hurts too. A numb heart may dull the sorrow, but it will keep me from fully experiencing the joy. And so when it was time to gently pat the horses goodbye, I left inspired to rejoice and find the wonder in this hard yet happy life that the Lord has given me. "The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quite alone with the heavens, nature and God." ~ Anne Frank How thankful I am to be able to go outdoors! Some days it is only for a few minutes, but when I am in nature, somehow my troubles seem a little smaller. I think it is because in creation I find stillness and am reminded of the greatness, glory, power, and love of God. For many years I couldn't go outside, except to climb into the car for a medical appointment. I was bedridden, I reacted to the pollen, and in 2016 - 2017, I couldn't even bear the light and noises of the outdoors. When I finally took a slow 2 minute walk through the backyard on May 9, 2020, the day before my 19th birthday, it was a celebration. I collapsed in bed afterwards, exhausted but elated. Today, I still spend most of my time in bed, but when I'm not in a major herx, I can walk up to 2 miles daily. I'm praising God that it's been almost 1 year since I rediscovered the wonder of the outdoors. Enjoy these pictures from recent walks through the backyard, neighborhood, and parks, along with the lyrics to Look at the World by John Rutter. "Look at the world: Everything all around us Look at the world: and marvel everyday Look at the world: So many joys and wonders So many miracles along our way Look at the earth: Bringing forth fruit and flower Look at the sky: The sunshine and the rain Look at the hills, look at the trees and mountains, Valley and flowing river, field and plain. Think of the spring, Think of the warmth of summer Bringing the harvest before the winters cold Everything grows, everything has a season Til' it is gathered to the Father's fold Every good gift, all that we need and cherish Comes from the Lord in token of His love We are his hands, stewards of all His bounty His is the earth and His the heavens above Praise to thee, O Lord for all creation. Give us thankful hearts that we may see All the gifts we share, and every blessing, All things come of thee All things come of thee" "Your mind knows you are going to Songdo. But you must not tell your body. It must think one hill, one valley, one day at a time. In that way, your spirit will not grow weary before you have even begun to walk. One day, one village. That is how you will go, my friend." ~ A Single Shard, Linda Sue Park Today I had a phone consult with Dr. M, my Bartonella specialist. My latest blood smear from March was still positive for Bartonella--overall the smear is much cleaner than previous ones, but I haven’t completely eradicated the Bartonella. However my main infection to target now is Babesia. Dr. M will continue to treat my Bartonella, but Dr. L will be taking charge of treating my Babesia. Dr. L is my hormone specialist, but he is very knowledgeable about Babesia and has been tirelessly developing a much better treatment protocol because his daughter (around my age) also has it. How God works brings me to tears. I became Dr. L’s patient in 2019 because he took his daughter to Dr. M, and Dr. M subsequently referred me to Dr. L for my hormones. I’d never known about Dr. L if it weren’t for his daughter’s illness, and he took me when he wasn’t accepting new patients. Under his hormonal care, I have greatly improved. More recently Dr. L figured out that his daughter also has Babesia. I am again seeing God’s providence because Dr. L was the first to suspect that I have Babesia, and I am now improving on Babesia treatment. My doctors would like me to start on a new Babesia med, but we are waiting until after May 8th. My oldest brother Alex is getting married that day, and I don’t want to miss the wedding! This treatment is going to be very intense, will make me worse before better, and will require a lot of monitoring. So until after the wedding, the plan is to just continue my current antimicrobials. I’m in a bad herx right now (as those of you who read my last update know), but I am slowly improving after lowering the antibiotic dose on Friday. I’m still in bed most of the day, but I was able to spend a few hours outside visiting with my family on Easter. Hopefully, I’ll continue to improve, and then we can bump up the dose again. We’ll probably rotate between two weeks on the higher dose and two weeks on the lower dose for a while. One day at a time. This is how I will journey. Just days before my fourteenth birthday in May of 2015, the healthy, energetic life I had always known fell apart. Now at age nineteen, I suffer from multiple chronic illnesses, and I have lived the last five-and-a-half years mostly in bed and disabled. This is not the life I expected, but it is the life God has for me, at least for a season. This is not a detour; it is the road, and it leads to somewhere good. When I am discouraged, I remind myself of the biblical story of Joseph in Genesis. If he hadn't been sold into slavery in Egypt, he would never had been able to save the people from famine. I contemplate over Jesus dying on the cross. It was the darkest day in history, and yet we call it Good Friday because by His death, many now have life. I think of Joni Eackson Tada, whose quadriplegia led to her disability ministry. Romans 8:28 teaches “that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose,” and I trust that somehow God will bring good out of my suffering too. In fact, I can already see glimpses of it. My faith is stronger. My relationships with my family and friends are deeper. I marvel at beauty that I used to rush by. I find great joy in what I used to take for granted. I've written encouraging cards and emails I would never have written otherwise. I've had the opportunity to pray with and for others who are hurting. I've taken up blogging on this site. This is not to say pain is good or that it doesn't really hurt. Tim Keller writes, "There’s no saccharine view in the Christian faith. The promise is not that if you love God, good things will happen in your life. The promise is not that if you love God, the bad things really aren’t bad; they’re really good things. The promise is that God will take the bad things, and he’ll work them for good in the totality." Suffering grieves the heart of God, but He has an eternal perspective in mind. He knows my pain is "light" and "momentary" compared to the never ending glory that is coming in heaven because of it. He sees the big picture and knows where the story is headed. This past November, as I sat outside watching the sunset and listening to music, a Steven Curtis Chapman song came on that I'd last heard on the radio before becoming sick. To me, it's even more beautiful now. "I know this is not Anything like you thought The story of your life was gonna be And it feels like the end has started closing in on you But it’s just not true There’s so much of the story that’s still yet to unfold And this is going to be a glorious unfolding Just you wait and see and you will be amazed You’ve just got to believe the story is so far from over So hold on to every promise God has made to us And watch this glorious unfolding" God isn't done with my story yet. I hold onto hope and wait for the glorious unfolding. |
AuthorHi! I'm Lauren Watt. I'm a 20 year old Christian, chronic illness warrior, and amateur artist and writer. Archives
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