The Truest Kind of Healing

I didn’t know the man, but I had heard that tone in his voice before. Joy. Awe. The previous week he had asked the elders of the church to anoint him and pray for him, and now he was almost dancing in his excitement to tell us how God had brought him relief from his disease.

His words pricked my heart. I had been prayed over once or twice before, and I knew many people who love me had prayed many times for healing from the arthritis that has twisted and swollen my body.

But I didn’t really believe it.

Honestly, I was resigned to my disease. I called it “mine,” made it a part of who I was, saying I knew God had a purpose for it in my life. And He did. God has used it in many ways already to teach me much about myself. My selfishness. My idols. And, most of all, my deep, deep fear.

Fear is the disease that keeps us from faith.

This disease was my thorn in the flesh, and I accepted it as such. People prayed with me and for me, but in my heart I expected nothing to change. This was what I deserved, after all. And I would do my best to bear the cross with integrity.

I didn’t go to the elders because why should I embarrass God like that? He and I both knew this disease was mine. Sure, He could heal me if He wanted to, but I didn’t really think He wanted to.

And then this man stood up in church and his words pierced. And the message that morning was about how we are chosen, set apart, called out for a special purpose. When we give ourselves up to God, we give up our rights. We become gloriously His.

And God spoke to my heart. What right do you have to not obey Me? Why do you trust man and not God?

The truth pressed into me. I I did not ask because I did not want to be disappointed. I did not want to give God the chance to fail me. So rather than give God a chance, I turned to doctors and medicine and the cures of man.

Trembling, weeping, I walked to the front where a group of elders and deacons stood waiting.  I want to be faithful. To give God this disease once and for all. He can heal me or not, but I want it to be His, not mine, to use as He will.

His, not mine.

They prayed, and a wondrous thought came over me in a rush. He CAN heal me. And for once, I knew it as a certain truth.

“God has a word for you. ‘Do not fear. Trust in Him and do not be afraid.’”

Like the arthritis that had twisted my body, fear had twisted my soul.

It remains to be seen whether my body is completely healed of arthritis, though I do feel better than I have in a long time. Maybe this is because of the real healing that is taking place.

My real sickness is the fear that keeps me from faith. Maybe God will heal me physically in order to prove His point, that He is faithful. And maybe if the physical healing does not come, He purposes to use the pain to accomplish a deeper healing, one that truly frees. If He heals me physically, will I be more awed than if He heals me from the scars of my fear?

I only know that when I obeyed, released my disease and with it my fear, God plunged me into His love. I do not have to be resigned to what I deserve. When I accept grace, I receive healing beyond what I ever imagined. I never knew before that receiving that unfathomable love would require a step of obedience.

The healing I really need is to experience His love for me. And I cannot receive love with clenched hands.

This morning it washed over me anew. Wondrous grace. Unsearchable love. Does He really love me enough to heal me, to just take the pain away, just like that?

My feet don’t hurt. My fingers on the keyboard are light. And in my heart a peace is blossoming, unfolding to the brightness of His love.