Lately I've been studying the healing miracles of Jesus. Not because of my own injury and need for physical healing, but because of my husband.
Just over a year ago, Scott was diagnosed with diabetes. But his is not a simple case of eating too much sugar and too many carbs. It's not even about not producing enough insulin. We've danced through the year, making two steps towards health and lower numbers only to take one step backwards. Even when he was diagnosed with a neuro-toxicity a couple months ago, the dance continued as all of his other numbers -- blood pressure, muscle mass, body fat ratio, cellular edema -- improved but his blood sugars bobbed like a child's yo-yo.
The control freak, fix-it-girl in me has spent hours reading medical journals (something I used to do for fun, seriously.) and pouring over research papers. I've stressed and worried, looking for a solution to the problem. Then as God stripped away my abilities due to my own injury, He's shown me that I just can't control anything, especially this thing. It doesn't matter how much I read or study. I can plan and obsess. I can suggest solutions that work at first and then fail. I can discuss hormone levels and ponder the effects of leptin and fructose until I'm blue in the face. The dance just continues.
So in an effort to prove to my husband that God heals, I began reading and studying Jesus' healing miracles. I wrote notes, read commentaries, studied the Greek and Hebrew meanings. Then I shared with Scott, only to realize I needed this study more than he did.
The first healing miracle is the story of the nobleman who comes to Jesus begging Him to heal his son who is near death. He implores Jesus and the Greek word used, erotao, means that he beseeched Jesus as though he were His equal with confident expectation that Jesus could and would do as he asked. This same word is used when Jesus speaks to God. That's the kind of confidence the nobleman used when he begged Jesus to heal his son. Then Jesus replies, "Go home. Your son has been healed." And the nobleman goes. Just like that, he trusts Jesus has done as he asks and he returns home to find his son healed. He asks his servants when the son got better and they tell him the hour. He knows that that is the exact hour he spoke with Jesus and his faith is bolstered. The story is found in John 4:46-54.
"'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, just to take Him at His word..."
My obsessing over Scott's numbers shows my lack of faith that Jesus will heal him. When I've prayed, I've begged and pleaded but I haven't erotao. I haven't put confidence in my request and begged with a heart without pretense. I haven't said, "Jesus, do this thing." My faith has been weak and instead of actively trusting, I've actively tried to figure it out and fix it myself. I imagine the nobleman was something like me. He'd likely taken his son to every medicine man in Capernaum. Maybe he'd even taken him to a bigger city like Jerusalem to have him treated. But when nothing worked and his son was near death, he finally went to Jesus and just said, "Fix him, please." (my words, not the Bible's)
Last Sunday, our pastor preached on John 10:22-39, Jesus at the Feast of Dedication. I love this story because it's Hannukah also known as the Feast of Dedication and the Festival of Lights and Jesus is the Light of the world. It is at this feast/festival/celebration that Jesus says, "I and my Father are one." Powerful stuff. But I digress. Anyhow, in verse 29, Jesus says "no one is able to snatch them from my Father's hand." Pastor Jared spoke of trust, and our nature to trust in ourselves, our money, our ability, our looks, our success more than we trust God. Then he said something like this:
"Do you trust God with the life of your loved ones?"
Gulp. Cough. Choke.
I suddenly felt like Goliath with a rock between my eyes.
I had to come face to face with the fact that I don't completely trust God with Scott's health. I fear daily that I will be left alone, without my husband, unless I do something about it. And that something has been trying to fix him because the doctors haven't fixed him yet. They have more patients than just my husband and nobody can give my husband the attention I think he needs except me. This is what I've been telling myself and this is what has kept me prisoner to those stupid medical journals, to the obsessing, to the fear.
As the dance has continued this week, I've been working on actively trusting. Not passive trust and insincere faith that says, "I trust God can do this." But active trust and sincere faith that says, "God is doing this." It's been hard. It is so much easier for me to go online and read about insulin, leptin, glucose, fructose, sucrose and all the other -ins and -oses than it is to just cry out, "Jesus, heal my husband."
'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus...
We're not done on the dance floor yet. I'm still fighting to lead instead of follow. But the steps are starting to smooth out. The turns are starting to flow. I'm just going to keep on watching Jesus, moment by moment choosing to trust that He will heal my husband and the best thing I can do is to let Him.
Just over a year ago, Scott was diagnosed with diabetes. But his is not a simple case of eating too much sugar and too many carbs. It's not even about not producing enough insulin. We've danced through the year, making two steps towards health and lower numbers only to take one step backwards. Even when he was diagnosed with a neuro-toxicity a couple months ago, the dance continued as all of his other numbers -- blood pressure, muscle mass, body fat ratio, cellular edema -- improved but his blood sugars bobbed like a child's yo-yo.
The control freak, fix-it-girl in me has spent hours reading medical journals (something I used to do for fun, seriously.) and pouring over research papers. I've stressed and worried, looking for a solution to the problem. Then as God stripped away my abilities due to my own injury, He's shown me that I just can't control anything, especially this thing. It doesn't matter how much I read or study. I can plan and obsess. I can suggest solutions that work at first and then fail. I can discuss hormone levels and ponder the effects of leptin and fructose until I'm blue in the face. The dance just continues.
So in an effort to prove to my husband that God heals, I began reading and studying Jesus' healing miracles. I wrote notes, read commentaries, studied the Greek and Hebrew meanings. Then I shared with Scott, only to realize I needed this study more than he did.
The first healing miracle is the story of the nobleman who comes to Jesus begging Him to heal his son who is near death. He implores Jesus and the Greek word used, erotao, means that he beseeched Jesus as though he were His equal with confident expectation that Jesus could and would do as he asked. This same word is used when Jesus speaks to God. That's the kind of confidence the nobleman used when he begged Jesus to heal his son. Then Jesus replies, "Go home. Your son has been healed." And the nobleman goes. Just like that, he trusts Jesus has done as he asks and he returns home to find his son healed. He asks his servants when the son got better and they tell him the hour. He knows that that is the exact hour he spoke with Jesus and his faith is bolstered. The story is found in John 4:46-54.
"'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, just to take Him at His word..."
My obsessing over Scott's numbers shows my lack of faith that Jesus will heal him. When I've prayed, I've begged and pleaded but I haven't erotao. I haven't put confidence in my request and begged with a heart without pretense. I haven't said, "Jesus, do this thing." My faith has been weak and instead of actively trusting, I've actively tried to figure it out and fix it myself. I imagine the nobleman was something like me. He'd likely taken his son to every medicine man in Capernaum. Maybe he'd even taken him to a bigger city like Jerusalem to have him treated. But when nothing worked and his son was near death, he finally went to Jesus and just said, "Fix him, please." (my words, not the Bible's)
Last Sunday, our pastor preached on John 10:22-39, Jesus at the Feast of Dedication. I love this story because it's Hannukah also known as the Feast of Dedication and the Festival of Lights and Jesus is the Light of the world. It is at this feast/festival/celebration that Jesus says, "I and my Father are one." Powerful stuff. But I digress. Anyhow, in verse 29, Jesus says "no one is able to snatch them from my Father's hand." Pastor Jared spoke of trust, and our nature to trust in ourselves, our money, our ability, our looks, our success more than we trust God. Then he said something like this:
"Do you trust God with the life of your loved ones?"
Gulp. Cough. Choke.
I suddenly felt like Goliath with a rock between my eyes.
I had to come face to face with the fact that I don't completely trust God with Scott's health. I fear daily that I will be left alone, without my husband, unless I do something about it. And that something has been trying to fix him because the doctors haven't fixed him yet. They have more patients than just my husband and nobody can give my husband the attention I think he needs except me. This is what I've been telling myself and this is what has kept me prisoner to those stupid medical journals, to the obsessing, to the fear.
As the dance has continued this week, I've been working on actively trusting. Not passive trust and insincere faith that says, "I trust God can do this." But active trust and sincere faith that says, "God is doing this." It's been hard. It is so much easier for me to go online and read about insulin, leptin, glucose, fructose, sucrose and all the other -ins and -oses than it is to just cry out, "Jesus, heal my husband."
'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus...
We're not done on the dance floor yet. I'm still fighting to lead instead of follow. But the steps are starting to smooth out. The turns are starting to flow. I'm just going to keep on watching Jesus, moment by moment choosing to trust that He will heal my husband and the best thing I can do is to let Him.
Oh for grace to trust Him more...
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