I got to ride in a nice ambulance.
Let’s just say that some “diverticu-losers” paid me another prolonged visit, and things got extremely out of hand. In their unchecked rowdiness, one poked a hole in my intestine – sending my body into five-alarm chaos.
Bombastic pests!
A couple of days in a large university hospital gave me all the feels.
Quite honestly, I’m a little embarrassed to blog on this subject, as I’ve been blessed with such a healthy life. I have no reason to complain. No reason to attract any special attention. No reason to stand out as any stellar example of suffering. At the same time, I don’t want to waste this pain. I want it to count, and I want it to count forever. So I’ll share my measly perspective.
Sickness of any kind reminds us of the Fall and its very real consequences in our spiritual and physical lives. These mortal bodies have their limits. We’re doing our best to keep them propped up and looking as young as possible – knowing all the while that they’re destined to fail us in the end. As we try to maneuver through these “dangers, toils, and snares” – physical and otherwise – you and I need the comfort of God.
These last few days have whispered in my ear not only my need for comfort, but the assurance that it’s never far away.
You see, my fellow pilgrims, we’re on the way home – but we’re not there yet. And it can get a little dicey between here and there. Sicknesses, ailments and worn-out joints – conditions both large and small – are not-so-subtle echoes of what went down on that fateful day long ago in the Garden. My friends, the emotional heaviness and weariness that come with our illnesses and limitations remind us that our union with Christ is more important than we ever imagined.
What else matters, really?
It’s not only how we step into our initial identity with Jesus, but it’s how we go on living in that identity. “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Galatians 2:20). That’s what I mean by our “union with Christ.” It’s everything!
And that’s not the end of the verse. “… And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.” The Apostle Paul is reminding us that, in a hospital room or anywhere else, you and I are waking up each day to bank on Christ for everything that we need for the day. We’re His. Entirely His.
“Give us this day our daily bread” (Matthew 6:11). Daily! Our union with Christ includes all of the ways in which we’re desperately dependent upon Him. Nothing is impacting us apart from His gracious care.
Christ is at the center of every good thing which will ever come our way – whether our healing happens in this life or the next. Illness gets our attention. Illness draws us back. It calls us home. It summons our courage, while showing us again the bankruptcy of our foolish striving. When it’s all said and done, our souls find satisfaction only in Him. “He restores my soul” (Psalm 23:3).
I’ve discovered that God likes to keep us at the end of ourselves. In fact, I’ve found that it’s the best place to be. It’s only there that we know that the only way forward is if God shows up in a big way.
Rich Mullins (1955-1997) sang it beautifully…
“And I wake up in the night and feel the dark
It’s so hot inside my soul
I swear there must be blisters on my heart
So hold me Jesus ‘cause I’m shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won’t You be my Prince of Peace”
Yes. Yes, He will.
Even in these diminishing physical bodies, may we feel the undeniable and sustaining pulse of His resurrection life!
Pastor Charles
