I grew up in a household that believed God didn’t give you sickness and disease. That is isn’t God’s will you be sick. That He is always good, only good – and isn’t one that gives disease. That we live in a fallen world and bad things happen to good people and it isn’t God.
I feel blessed that was my upbringing. I feel honored that my parents got us out of a legalistic, religious church system and into a faith and grace relationship with God. And although I never really practiced my faith as a teen and young woman, I always knew in my heart God is good and loves me and would never do anything to harm me.
Fast forward to age 30 when I got sick with Lyme disease while pregnant with my third son. The sicker I became, the more I learned about God’s healing power. I didn’t dip my toe into the waters that hold healing, I dove headfirst in. I learned everything I could about supernatural healing and God’s will I be well. Although I’d always believed He was a good God, I never really believed in the power of God to heal, until I got sick and began reading about Jesus and His miracles.
For a few years I immersed myself in Jesus and God’s healing power. I even began having visions of Jesus and dreams from Him. He was there for me in my need. But no matter how much faith I had for healing. No matter who prayed for me. I never was healed. And neither was my baby. While God showed up in my life in powerful, and amazing ways, He didn’t show up in healing. I had such great faith for healing and yet, it wouldn’t manifest, like so many teachers of the word said it would.
After a few years of praying and speaking to my body, and the body of my baby, and praying for others, my faith began to erode. If this is God’s will, which I still believe, and I have the faith for it, which I did, then why in the world am I still suffering so much? As I laid hands on my son, and felt the power of God hot on my hands, yet he’d walk away sick as ever, I began having doubts, and questions.
I never questioned God and His goodness. I knew the disease wasn’t of Him. I knew it was the result of living in a fallen world. It wasn’t God. It was a tick who was infested with disease that bit me and transmitted the disease. But I questioned why I wasn’t healed. Why I believed so much and yet, nothing. Why? Why? Why?
And slowly those questions built into anger and bitterness. I felt let down by God. I felt let down by the one who never let me down before. I felt frustrated and lashed out in anger at the one who loves me more than I can even fathom. How could He continue to deny me healing? How can he let my son suffer? Why weren’t we healed when I believed so much that we would be if we simply prayed and and believed?
I have the same faith as any other person healed. Why am I still suffering? Why was my son? He was so innocent. He has the innocent faith of a child. If anyone should be healed, it should be him. He should be a walking miracle by now. Almost eight years into disease, and praying for healing, and we’re still sick. Stuck in this painful place of wanting and hoping and believing and praying – and not being healed.
I became so angry at God that I stopped praying. for anyone. Not just me and my son but other people who asked for prayer. I didn’t believe in prayer anymore. And truth be told, part of me is still in that space where miracles do happen but we can’t make them happen by prayer. I stopped trying to figure out healing. I stopped trying to understand it. I stopped asking God for wisdom in that area. I just stopped. I stopped talking to God, my visions of Him stopped, He stopped coming to me in dreams. I all but cut Him out of my life.
I felt so let down by Him. He is God. Certainly He could exert His will in this fallen world and zap me and my son with His healing power. I truly believe He wants me and my son well. So if He wants that, why isn’t it happening? Why won’t He just do it already? So many questions born from hurt.
Some said to me that it isn’t God’s will you be well and that is why you’re still sick. Some said God is using this time to teach me and mold me. Some said my son and I would be healed in His Timing. And each time someone would speak that over me, I would cringe inside, and even lash out in anger. Because that isn’t the God I know. I’ve never known that kind of God. It’s like I have two parts inside of me warring. The one who is madly in love with my Father and the one who is bitterly angry at Him.
There was even a time when I questioned His existence. Maybe I’m not healed because the Bible isn’t real. Jesus isn’t real. God isn’t real. Maybe I have had it wrong all of my life. Maybe there never was a God and never will be a God. Or maybe I believe in the wrong God. But those questions never lasted long because I have always just known God intimately. I share all of this to show you how deep the sense of betrayal and anger I felt toward God went.
I have to admit, I am not completely on the other side of this. As I continue to suffer, as my son continues to suffer, and people of faith continue telling me to keep my faith, and people who believe in God but not in healing continue to tell me maybe it isn’t God’s will I be healed, I continue to wrestle with my faith for healing. I wrestle with the words of the Bible. I wrestle with even the goodness of God. I feel far from Him. I love Him but I feel far from Him. It isn’t He who has pulled away, it’s I. I’ve been building a wall to keep from getting more hurt, more let down, more angry.
You see, I just want this to end. I just want to be on the other side of this. I want to see my son walk in healing. I want to stop worrying over him and his health. I want to wake up one day healed. I want to end this chapter in my life. I want it to be God who heals us and not modern medicine. I want to say, see I told you God still heals! I want to believe it. I want it so badly but I doubt it all. I never did before. I do now.
I’m emotionally and spiritually exhausted. I’m dry, my spirit is a dessert land. I read the Bible on occasion and get angry. And question everything. Because, if Jesus was a healing Jesus then, and He is the same yesterday, today, and forever – and ALL who came to Him for healing, were healed – then why aren’t we healed? If it’s the truth, then why isn’t the truth setting us free?
I guess, the point of this is to say – I know where you are at if you’re where I’m at. If you believe in God and love God but wrestle with His Words and Promises and even wrestle with Him sometimes. And I don’t believe God is angry about our doubts and questions. I don’t believe He is looking down on us, in our diseased state, and angry at our inability to keep faith in hard times, or even to turn our backs on Him while we wrestle with our faith. I think He is angry at Satan for coming against us, and sad for us, and hurts for us, because He loves us so much. I think He understands where it is all coming from.
So, while I do believe in God and Jesus and I’m hungry for heaven – starving for heaven – heaven on earth – or heaven in heaven – or Jesus to just come on home and get us now – I am still in a place of questioning healing and bitterness from feeling let down by God. And frustration with myself. If only I had more faith, better faith, bigger faith… see, I know these thoughts are wrong, I know I have enough faith for healing, but I still blame myself for Dash and I being unable to receive a supernatural healing.
I’ve been prayed for by giants of the faith. And have walked away sick.
God knows my heart. He knows I love Him. He also knows I’m burdened and need rest. And so here I am. I don’t pray for healing anymore. I don’t believe for it. It’s gone from my heart. And please don’t tell me to hold on. Please don’t lecture me. Please don’t offer your advice or quote from the Bible. Please don’t even tell me you’ll pray for me. If you must say anything just say you understand. Because, all the advice in the world hasn’t helped and neither have the prayers. This is something I have to work out within myself and with God. And I know I’ll get to the other side of this trial. I’ll make it there. But for now, I’m stuck in the muck and mire of anger and doubts and exhaustion.
May God continue to be patient with me as I wrestle this all out.