I donít understand the Lord. I know Heís good. But I donít understand Him-His ways or His name.
Iím exhausted. I barely have the strength to type these words on this page, but Iím pushing through anyways.
I just got home. I had to go to Urgent Care today-fourth time this month, nothing's changed. Iím just getting worse and doctors donít know a thing.
We had no gas to drive there, so I had to walk. I love to walk; I just canít walk, not anymore that is. Exhaustion ails me and steps to the bathroom are the biggest feat of the day. But I began my trek anyways.
I live in the inner-city, the only white face youíll see for a few miles around. Walking probably is not the safest mode of transportation, but fear isnít something Iím accustomed to.
The brisk wind whipped against my frame causing chills to creep in and shake my feeble body. Slowly I made my way, minding my own; winding a path through small side streets to where I eventually needed to be. I praised Jesus the whole way, my voice barely a whisper through my heavy breathing. But I sang with all my strength; itís all I seem to be able to do these days.
I finally got there, to the free health clinic that is. A new doctor saw me this time. Mechanically I explained my symptoms and condition, doubting that this doctor would be able to figure out a thing. Each time they listen, get a profound look of concern on their face, ask the same repetitious questions, and then stand stupefied when all attempts to identify the cause are found futile. Iíve decided that Jesus really is the greatest physician, not because Heís healing me, but because He actually knows whatís wrong with me.
The doctor who saw me was a sweetheart, a Hispanic middle-aged woman, nervous though as a crack addict with trembling fingers and a shaking voice. She seemed confused and concerned that I have been enduring chronic stomach pain for five years and such exhaustion for over a month. She asked what lessened the pain; I flatly answered, ďPain pills.Ē A look of surprise entered her eyes as she quickly went outside to find counsel from other doctors that Iíd seen prior.
I sat there trying not to cry; tears kept entering my eyes. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired, and afraid because I donít know why Iím so tired. I can deal with pain. I know it well. Itís been the definition of my existence and is just something Iíve learned to endure through. But exhaustion, thatís another thing- barely being able to stay awake, sleeping almost 20 hours or more a day, wasting away my life curled up on a bed that I canít escape.
That I canít do.
Because it leaves me unable to seek Jesus. I have no strength to stay awake, no strength to pray, study the Word, or to intercede; and thatís all Iím living to do. Being hindered from this one pursuit is killing me more than any pain ever could. And I donít know why He is leaving me like this, when Iím His favorite; His beloved; His child.
I left the doctor's office knowing nothing new, dreading the journey home because my strength was failing. But I began anyways.
Despair tried to creep in, but I refused to let it in. I would praise His name anyways.
I took the long way. I donít know why. I guess I just wanted to walk through the worst part of the neighborhood worshiping the Son.
My pace was slow. It took almost an hour to walk home, twice the time as before.
I kept my gaze ahead, mindful of the scattered glass in my path; ignoring the catcalls to the right and the left. Desolation was all around: broken-down houses, abandoned buildings, littered streets, and more than a few men trying to give me a lift now and then. Iím good at ignoring them.
And I sang to Jesus. I sang the whole way. I sang without ceasing, singing, ďRightly do we love You, beautiful Lamb, glorious King. You are holy; I bless Your name; I give You praise. You are worthy to receive all blessing and honor and glory and power God forever! Forever!Ē
I finally made it home, night was creeping along the shadowed skyline. My husband was still asleep inside, the effects of working the night-shift with too much on his mind.
Now here I am, writing this page; thinking how right it is to love Him, the one who continues to afflict and cause me to suffer.
I close my eyes and I think about Him: His love; His name; His ways.
And I donít understand why, why He afflicts those He loves. But I know that I am loved. and for this reason I canít help but to bless His name. The things He is producing in me, though completely unseen, are greater than the suffering; and they are for my good, not to harm me.
Why is this the method He chooses to use? Iím not sure, it might just be the best or the only one He can.
One day I might see clearly. One day maybe there will be healing. Until then Iíll pray for grace, for the grace to bless Him and remain un-offended all of my days.
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Gracious Kimberley, you put me to shame for it was just a few weeks ago that I was distraught with my bad back and wrote an article asking God what's up. You can read the article here http://www.faithwriters.com/article-details.php?id=153107 Whatever happens just keep trusting God for he alone knows what he is accomplishing through your pain and eventually you will be delighted for how things turned out. You are one great example of fine Christian stewardship. Blessings on you.
Hi Kimberly, I am glad to see you back here. This is very powerful and I assume true about you? We will be accepting submissions after the first of the year for a book of testimonies, actually faith tried by fire. Keep your eyes open for it because the book will be published.I am working with a best selling Chrisitan Author to bring FW this project.It may be in a contest format but essentially we will be requesting submissions. You may definitely want to enter. You are in our prayers. God Bless, Mike & Bea