Living and Active

So, some people know about my kidneys and others don't. It's not as sexy as cancer, but yeah... I've got bum kidneys. It's a dual disease of Barters syndrome and Gitelman's syndrome. (I'm all about them syndromes!). Basically what it means is that I've got about 30%-40% function in my kidneys, and it's been decreasing more rapidly this past year than it has in the previous 4 combined. That means the degeneration is speeding up. A lot. When I was at the Mayo Clinic last Thanksgiving, I saw another specialist. She looked at my history, and the rate of decline of my kidney function. I asked her "How long till you think I'll need a new kidney?" She paused and looked at my chart and said "Ummm... probably 4 or 5 years."

Boom. FOUR or FIVE years?!?!?! I had thought I was at least 10 years out. That one sentence hovers in my mind like a gargoyle waiting to pounce. I've heard about transplants. They are not fun. Things never quite go back to normal afterwards. Shoot, I'm scared to even get to the dialysis stage!

I have a vivid memory of before I was diagnosed with cancer, when my body was going even wonkier than usual. (Yes, that's a real word. I checked!) I was with a group of girls from my church. I can't remember what we were doing there. I think it was a class of some sort? At the end, we ladies were all in a circle praying. More like a cluster really, laying hands on each other or something like that. I was sitting on the floor with my head against a friend's leg. Randomly (or not so randomly) someone started praying about Psalm 139 and how "fearfully and wonderfully made" we were. At that point the levy broke, and although I was silent, the tears flowed in a stream down my face so fiercely that all I could do was watch them drip onto my jeans, creating a dark puddle on the denim. Gina (who's leg I was resting on), was the only one who saw me. Although we didn't know each other very well, she just stroked my hair. It was the best thing anyone could have done for me in that moment.

M tears weren't flowing freely because I was comforted. They flowed because I was frustrated. Possibly angry. I can't remember exactly. I just remember thinking "If that girl knew what my body was doing to me right now, there's no way she would pray that. At least not to my face. There's no way that I am "fearfully and wonderfully made". I feel like a consequence of the fall which marred the perfect world with genetic mutants like me."  It felt like an old wives tale, like "You shouldn't go swimming for 45 minutes after you eat." There's some truth to it, but nobody really believes it to the fullest extent. Is it true for some people? Probably. Is it true for everybody? Not really. We've all broken that rule and come out just fine. We just say it to kids to get a general principle across. Fearfully and wonderfully made feels like that: one of those phrases that healthy people throw around to comfort sick people. Is it true for some? Sure. For me? Probably not, or at least not completely. Maybe generally.

Fast forward to last Sunday. A woman who is a spiritual mentor of mine challenged me to read and meditate on Psalm 139 this week. Although I doubted that I'd learn something "new", I did it. The word is living and active right? It can speak to us in new ways each time. I read through it 3 days ago and tried to garner new meanings and new insight, but I got nothing. It was the same Psalm 139 that I've read a thousand times before. But I kept hearing her voice in my head, so I did it again today. I study the word like I do everything else: like a nerd. I like to go to the Greek or Hebrew and read it line for line, studying the translation of each word. I didn't do that last time so I decided to do a legit study today. Nothing jumped out at me until I got to verse 13.

"For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb."

I've seen "inmost being" also translated as "inner parts". However, the way it was translated on the site that I was on was odd, so I clicked on it to see what the literal Hebrew translation was. Would you like to know what the literal translation is? Kidneys. Psalm 139:13 literally says "For You have created my kidneys..."

(Go see for yourself: here and here)

Living and active my friends. Living. And. Active.

Of comfort and joy

One of my favorite (if not my absolute favorite) verses is 2 Corinthians 1:3-4:

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God."

That is such a beautiful picture: we comfort others with the comfort we ourselves have received. I consider this my life verse in a lot of ways. When I am called to have joy in suffering, it is this verse that I return to. 

I think back to when I was in college. I'd had a really difficult time with the program I was in. (I'll say that it was an abusive environment and just leave it at that.) In my time there, I because so beat down that I fell into a full blown depression, one that I've never been able to fully rid myself of. Depression runs in my family. It was just a matter of time before something triggered it. Anyways, I was a camp counselor during my summers for 4 years and there was a group of really cool girls that I had in my cabin every year. I had the awesome privilege of having them for all 4 years. I'd gotten to see them go from Freshman to Seniors and gotten to spend a whole week with them each year in intimate talks and pillow fights.  

And when I say they were cool, I meant they were "cool". They were the "cool" kids. They were the ones that all the boys liked. Ours was always the cabin that had the pranks pulled on. And one of these particular girls wasn't just "cool". She was mean. She was everything you saw in the movie "Mean girls" and more. She was bitingly sarcastic. She could pick out the slightest weakness or insecurity in someone else and jump all over it. She never did it with me, but she never opened up to me either.  I still loved her. I loved all of them. They were my girls. 

Each summer, I was so blessed to be able to open up the word of God and teach them, probe their little brains, learn their thoughts, answer their questions. However, my fourth and final year (the camp got sold after that) was different. I had a speech all planned out for them. Since there were more girls than just them in the cabin, I had to be frank. I said to them all "I know you have all gone to camps before, and you have had counselors who have told you all about the troubles they had in the past, and how God came through, and their lives were changed from then on. Unfortunately, I can't say that. My troubles aren't in the past. They are right now. I am struggling with depression right now, and I want you girls to know that that is OK. God is still good whether I'm going through it now, or I went through it in the past. You'll probably see me cry. I may occasionally need to step away. But I want you to know that God is still good, and that He is good even in the sad times." It was something along those lines. I can't remember exactly what it was. 

My group that week was all in the junior/senior range. They were old enough to be mature, and to have sympathy, and to give me hugs and love me during my weakness. Afterwards, when I went back to my room, I heard a knock on the door and there entered my "mean girl". She sat on my bed with tears in her eyes and said "I feel like that all. the. time. I hate myself. . I don't know what to do. I just want to cry all the time."

I was shocked. Four years in my cabin, and this was the first time she ever approached me about anything personal. This girl, this exquisitely beautiful girl, who had made so many others miserable...was miserable. She wasn't mean out of pride. She was mean because she was in pain. It reminded me of an animal, caught in a snare. An animal is never as dangerous as when they are in pain. We are really not that different in that sense. At that moment, God allowed me to love her in a way that she never would have allowed in the past. My pain was the door. It is this moment that I will hold onto forever.

The realization that God could use something as sucky as depression changed my life. From that day on, I have given thanks to God for it, even on my dark days. My "joy in suffering" comes from the knowledge that God does not let anything we experience go to waste. We will always have the chance to "comfort others with the comfort we ourselves have received." Being able to do so is such a joy to me, that that is what I focus on whenever I am experiencing suffering. It may not always pan out in such an obvious way as it did that night in August, but I know it will someday. And not only that, I was able to see a faithfulness in God that I hadn't understood before. A God that has been faithful in the past is a God that I can trust to be faithful in the future. That is something that I need to remind myself of on a regular basis. 

The beauty of suffering

I got hit with some news today that shouldn't be shaking me up as bad as it is.  One of my oldest friend's brother is separated from his wife.  Broken marriages seem like they should almost be the norm nowadays, and yet it still messes with my head, even when it isn't MY close friend.  I've been sitting here all morning sorta ruminating on it, feeling pangs of a broken heart that I'm sure are miniscule in comparison to his, and letting tears slip down my face that I'm sure are barely a drop in his bucket.  I don't care what the statistics are.  A broken marriage is worthy of a cry.  Shoot, 100% of life ends in death, and we still mourn that!

I was on my knees just praying for him today, and I started to feel a little guilty.  Why? Because part of me was delighting in the beauty of the situation.  I know that sounds horrible, so let me explain... I don't know what exactly is going on in the situation.  But I have caught a glimpse of something beautiful.   I have caught a glimpse of a loving God wooing his child back to himself.  And for that, I am rejoicing. 

I started sensing this joy that I was feeling and started wondering "Am I sadistic?!?!  How can I rejoice in any PART of this!  Am I THAT uncompassionate??!?!"  I felt ashamed.  But I kept thinking about it.  And I was reminded that THIS is the joy that comes with suffering.  It all depends on perspective and what you value.  I value anything that brings us closer to a loving God, because that is where true joy contentment, and peace reside.  And I can say this loudly because I feel I have put my money where my mouth is.  I feel like I have earned the right in some regards to speak about joy within suffering.

When I was diagnosed last year, I felt a joy.  I felt a joy and an excitement because of what I saw happen with my mom all those years ago, and I was legitimately excited about being refined in the same way.  Did I ENJOY it?!?! Ummmm... read the blog... However, would I change it?  No.  I feel able to feel joy in his suffering without fear of hypocrisy, because I reacted the same way with mine.  I don't say that to sound all cool and spiritual.  I say that because I want to stress that it doesn't come from some academic knowledge of suffering, and it doesn't come as some trite Christian cliche, coming from someone who just dosn't know what to say in the face of real pain, but feels the burden to say something.  It is coming from my heart.


 ² Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,^[a] whenever you face trials of many kinds, ³ because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. ⁴ Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. (James 1: 2-4)

"...For the joy set before him he endured the cross..." (Hebrews 2:2)

"⁵ And have you completely forgotten this word of encouragement that addresses you as a father addresses his son? It says,
   “My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline,
   and do not lose heart when he rebukes you,
⁶ because the Lord disciplines the one he loves,
   and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son." (Hebrews 2:6 quoting Proverbs 3:11-12)

 


Suffering sucks.  Plain and simple.  But joy is entirely about perspective and values.  It says about Jesus "But for the joy set before him, endured the cross."  Joy?!?! There was joy on the cross?  Ehhhh... yes and no.  There was joy, because of his perspective and values.  His perspective was "this is temporary" and his values were us.  This temporary act would allow him relationship and fellowship with us, and we with him.  Boom.  Joy.  There's joy in cancer?  Perspecive: "this is temporary".  Values: This will refine me, cultivate compassion, cultivate patience, teach me how to sit still!  It will make me a more beautiful person in general.  Boom.  Joy.  Having a baby?  Easy one!  Spring football training?  Again, temporary.  Values?  Stronger, faster, more powerful, and more chiseled for da ladies!  I could go on and on.  Give me your suffering, and we can find some piece of joy in it.  It all depends on what you value though.  If you don't value the refinement, no joy.  If you do not value a closer walk with a loving God?  No joy.  Joy only comes when the thing that is reaped is bigger and better than the thing that is sacrificed. 

All that being said, I don't know how I could handle something happening in my marriage. I don't know if I would want to be given the testimony of how a marriage can recover from an affair (like a friend of mine has).  I don't know if I could handle John dying.  I got to watch a girl I knew in high school go through a year long struggle after her husband's accident, and finally lose him.  There is no shred of the somewhat surfacy "Christian girl" that I had known.  Instead there is this amazing woman who has more strength than I could ever imagine, and I don't know if I would come through the same situation as beautifully as she.  But the again, "God doesn't give us the grace while imagining a situation.  He gives us the grace when we are in the situation."  I have no idea who said that to me, but I'll never forget the words. 

I think the most tragic situation in the world is someone going through a whole lot of suffering and gaining nothing from it.  It is definitely a choice what you are going to do with suffering.  Choosing to let it drive you further away from a God who loves us like his children... well there is nothing more tragic than that.  So, while I hurt with my friend's brother, while I pray, and while I cry, I do not "mourn as those who have no hope."  Through my tears, I rejoice.  I rejoice because I am seeing the seeds of beauty welling up in his life.  And for this, I wish I knew him better, so that I could cheer him on face to face.  

And if you are out there and know who you are, know that I am rooting for you.  I am rooting for your marriage and restoration.  I am rooting for how the Lord is revealing his faithfulness to you in the situation,  and I'm rooting for that little seed that you allowed me to see that testifies to the man you are becoming through the situation.