This January my oldest son decided he was going to read through the Bible in a year. I offered to pay him every month he completed his goals and I thought that might last a month or two. Here we are in April and he’s still going strong. Watching his commitment was inspiring and I started doing the same plan he was. I love this plan because if you miss a day (or a week. . . or two), it’s easy to pick back up without guilt. There is no getting “behind” because it isn’t just reading straight through, but reading different things each day. The first day I started reading, it was in the book of Job.
I have always loved this book— the honesty of Job, his freedom to express his feelings to an Almighty God and God’s response. It’s always moved me. But as I read it this time, it felt especially relevant.
The LORD said to Satan, “Have you considered My servant Job? For there is no one like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man fearing God and turning away from evil. And he still holds fast his integrity, although you incited Me against him to ruin him without cause.” Satan answered the LORD and said, “Skin for skin! Yes, all that a man has he will give for his life. However, put forth Your hand now, and touch his bone and his flesh; he will curse You to Your face.” So the LORD said to Satan, “Behold, he is in your power, only spare his life.” Job 2:3-6
This spoke to me as I was in the early stages of battling a health issue. My issue is mild in the grand scheme of health issues. But it has been life-altering to me and I hate that. I don’t want to live an altered life. I want my normal life back. I’m hopeful that I’m on my way back to that healthy place, but the last few months have been rough as I worked my way through the diagnostic processes, completely modified my diet and lifestyle, and then started medication.
I think health is one of those areas where it’s difficult to know how to be a good steward. Can we make an idol of our good health? Can we pursue our health in ways that are ungodly? Can we assume our health is a blessing bestowed on us because we are living right? Can we look at people who are struggling with their health and assume that’s because they aren’t living right, either morally, physically or spiritually?
I don’t want to say that my health issue was a spiritual attack. I can’t claim to know that. But I do believe that when hard times come into our lives, those are special moments where our hearts are revealed. It’s in those moments of suffering where idols are revealed and what we’ve put our security and identity in becomes obvious.
I so desperately wanted to be well. I felt like a caged animal, clawing at any potential solution that would mean I wasn’t really as sick as I was. Could better sleep fix it? Yoga? Cut out dairy? Grains? Add in supplements? Stop drinking coffee? If you offered me a solution, I was willing to try it. And I believe there were positive benefits to my overall health because of the options I tried. But there was no easy fix. Over two months of diet and lifestyle modifications did not keep me from needing additional testing and additional medical intervention. I don’t want to say that those things didn’t “work” or didn’t help, because I believe they did help keep things from getting worse. But in the end, I’m realizing what I was really struggling with wasn’t just my health, it was my need to control. My need to understand why God would allow this in my life.
As we read Job, we can see the plot unfold. There is information we know that Job isn’t privy to. He just sees his life fall apart in dramatic and tragic ways. He doesn’t know if there’s a grand purpose to all of this, he just feels confident to let God know that he doesn’t deserve this. And God knows that too. This isn’t punishment. This wasn’t something he was supposed to avoid by better living. This came into his life precisely as he was living righteously. What an honor that God would pick Job as an example of godly living. But it certain didn’t feel like an honor to Job to have to suffer as he did.
I’m not saying my physical suffering came because I am just that righteous. I’m just saying that this has been a reorienting of my perspective— that maybe this isn’t punishment I have to endure or quickly find a cure for. A friend of mine has been walking through her own difficult season as a foster parent and she continually asks the question, “How do I become a good steward of my suffering?” It’s a question I’ve found myself asking more and more in this circumstance. God has allowed this little corner of suffering into my world, so what am I supposed to do with it?
I tried running from it. I tried denying it. I tried being angry about it. I tried controlling it. I’m finding that there’s a beauty in just loving my suffering body the way it is and being honest with God about how hard this is. Contentment is possible even in pain. I’m not doing it perfectly, but I’m learning. I’m learning the more I pursue control of my life, the more dissatisfied I become. The more I believe it’s possible for other people to control their lives (and particularly their health), the more judgmental I become and the more difficult it becomes to show empathy.
Clean living, healthy eating, exercise and rest are all good things. God gave me this one body and I want to take good care of it. I need to it to work well so I can be the mom, the daughter, the employee, the advocate I believe God wants me to be. Some of the changes I’ve had to make recently have become healthy habits I will continue no matter my current health situation. I can’t control my health, but I can do my best to create the right conditions for good health as much as it depends on me. And then I sit back and trust God with the outcome. Maybe he wants me to be living my best life now and I’m full of energy to take on the world. And maybe God asks me to be like Joni Eareckson Tada who has ministered to so many people from within what looks like a prison of a broken body.
My body isn’t who I am. It’s a tool that I want to care for well, but it isn’t what defines me. My limitations remind me that it’s God who plans and orchestrates the outcomes he wants for my life. We can only do what we can do. If my body refuses to cooperate, then God must have some other plan. It’s a humbling and freeing way to look at my life and one I think we all have to get more comfortable with as we age. I find that my physical struggles seem to be one way God creates joyful anticipation for heaven.
As I accept my own limitations it becomes more natural to sit with those who are also suffering. I’m thankful for those who have offered help as I’ve asked and have wanted to help me problem solve this. And I’m thankful my friendships with them haven’t been dependent on me finding a full recovery. I’ve been surprised by the sweet interactions I’ve had with others who are physically struggling, but didn’t feel safe to talk about it until they knew I understood. We want to sit with those who are suffering not as Job’s companions, constantly offering “solutions” and theories on what caused this, but with an understanding that maybe God’s plan isn’t for healing (right now), but for a heart that learns to steward the painful gift of suffering well even when it feels undeserved and unfair.
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