The Story

I told you once that it would take a miracle for these hands to play the guitar. These hands could never do such a thing on their own, because, in addition to being perpetually weak, they were also burdened with migratory joint pain, from my Lyme disease.

I erected a stone in my mind's path.

A stone marked with weakness & pain.

A stone of memorial.

And, reader, I'm so glad I did.

I love that I wrote during my darkest of days, because now, they are not just a fleeting memory, but they are part of my story; my testimony. I stamped them with ink, like tattooing the internet, my heart, & a half dozen journals. It's marked down in my life as history. The kind that bears repeating.

He met me in the midst of the worst pain week I have ever had.

{If it had hurt less, you would have heard about it, but typing wasn't exactly easy.}

He met me, through His people.

I was surrounded with an army. Prayer warriors lifted me up. Friends comforted me & fought for me. My family members cried out to God on my behalf.

It was difficult to sleep, because of the ache of every position.

I was exhausted, & that makes the symptoms even worse.

I was stressed, & that didn't help matters.

He met me in the dark nights of my soul.

He asked me a question, & I answered plain & simple.

"Lord, okay. If this is what You have called me to, then okay. If I never recover, if I never heal, I still trust You. You've worked through this disease to change me for the good, & to impact those around me, & if Lyme has more to teach me, I will bear it, & I will learn. If You slay me, still I will trust You. You are worth any cost You could ever ask me to pay."

I surrendered.

When humans do that, crazy things tend to happen.

Come Sunday, I was sitting in a pew, massaging my aching, cold hands. The pain was loud.

His voice was stronger.

"What if I want something different for you, My child?

What if I desire to use healing in your life, rather than illness?

Could you trust Me then?

It won't be easy.

You will no longer bear the identity you do now.

No more will your name be Diseased.

That can't be the foundation of who you are anymore.

I will be the foundation.

I am the only Way, & the only way out of this sickness.

Will you trust me?"

I had felt oppressed by the disease that week, & He was revealing to me His heart for justice for the oppressed.

In my mind rang these words:

"And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen years, be loosed from this bond on the Sabbath day?" {Luke 13:16}

You hold my every moment
You calm my raging seas
You walk with me through fire
And heal all my disease
I trust in You, Lord I trust in You

I believe You're my healer
I believe You are all I need

I believe You're my portion
I believe You're more than enough for me
Jesus, You're all I need

Nothing is impossible for You
Nothing is impossible
Nothing is impossible for You
You hold my world in Your hands

{Healer by Kari Jobe}

Basically, His message was clear.

I had trusted Him enough to say that I believed He could heal me ...

But now I was asked to believe that He would.

Those are two very different things, you know.

One feels safer.

I like safe.

I was terrified to boldly ask for healing ... because what if nothing changed?

What if I had to endure the rest of my days, knowing that He had said no, or not yet?

I didn't trust myself, that was the thing. If He didn't answer, I didn't believe I had enough faith to still trust Him ... how does one cope with that?

How could I watch Him answer every other prayer, but not mine?

Could I still trust Him, then?

I pushed my doubts aside, by grace.

I chose to try Him, as Spurgeon would say.

Because He is worth the risk.

And I am not called to a life within my comfort zone.

He said to me, "No more. You're not going to bear this any longer."

So in faith, I prayed.

I laid hands on myself, & I silently, but boldly, prayed for healing.

I called on His name, & asked for the removal of the disease & every. single. symptom.

Each pain & discomfort.

Every weakness.

I asked Him to invade.

My prayers were interrupted by another's.

An elder & friend was praying over the offering, & he responded to the Spirit's prompting by stepping out on a limb & praying healing over those in the church.

Not your average offertory prayer.

I didn't have time to laugh at my own joke before the wave of heat flooded me.

He gave me my miracle.

The pain completely left.

I haven't had any tests done, but I have faith that the disease has left also.

The devil has been trying to discourage me with minor aches & normal human discomforts, but he's just mad.

That's what happens when you lose a fight.

God is the victor, & in Him, we are more than conquerors.

I can bear witness to that.

He hasn't ceased to flood me with blessing & praise since my healing, & I am so excited to see what He does in me next.

This is my story, & I will shout it from the rooftops:

He is my Healer.

He has saved me.


{I kept up with my poetry during the time spent away from the blogosphere, & I am so filled with joy as I reread what I wrote in those days ... what He was stirring within me, even in the pain. I will be posting some of those here soon. The journey I am on is so incredible. I want to let you in on all of it. Stay tuned!}