Missing the Miracle

In January of 2007, I answered an inner calling to travel to Spokane, Washington.  I’m not a spontaneous person, but something tugged at me with a strength and allure I could not deny–hope.

One of my friends from college lived up there and told me about the Healing Rooms.  It was a place people came from all over to seek and find healing prayer.  I’ve had health problems my entire life.  Even with advances in technology, my diabetes was severe, and the very modern day conveniences that made controlling it easier often caused me great pain.  I had only been diagnosed with celiac three years before and was still in denial.  On top of that, I had been struggling with depression and suicidal thoughts for the past fourteen years.

So I bought a plane ticket, even though I hate to fly and dislike travel, not to mention it was freezing cold in a place that saw heavy snowfall.  (While there, I learned that snow is only pretty after the first fall.  Then it becomes brown slush.)  I was a senior in college, and was spending my cherished winter break chasing hope.

My friend took me to visit the Healing Rooms.  It was like a free clinic, in a way.  First come, first serve.  There were several rooms where volunteers gathered in numbers of two or three to meet with people and pray over them.  They praised a high success rate, and even local hospitals invited them to come down and pray with patients.  I didn’t go in that first day.  We looked around, picked up a few pamphlets and a book, and went home where we dove into the Bible, examining the verses and passages their faith was based on.  We even visited some local pastors to discuss the matter with them.

And you know what?  I found no flaw in their beliefs.

I went back to the Healing Rooms and asked for prayer that God would cure me of my diabetes and gluten allergy.  Before they prayed, one of the men stepped forward and said he sensed there was something else I needed healing from–my depression.  I had forgotten about it, believing that if my physical troubles were over, that would follow.  They laid hands on me and prayed for healing, calling upon the promises in the Bible and the promise of life in Christ.

And I believed.

Then came the tricky part: when would I experience my full healing?  For the next couple days, my diabetes got markedly better.  I started decreasing my medication without consequence.  But days turned into weeks, and weeks into months.  Still, I held on to this hope that God would heal me of my afflictions.

Hope turned to disappointment, to anger.

Before you come to the conclusion that God doesn’t exist or miracles don’t happen, let me say that in my anger and hurt, I missed the miracle.  I am sad to say that it took me a whole year before I realized that God indeed had healed something very important–my depression.  Since that day, I have not had one day lost to despair, one suicidal thought.  God may not have healed me the way I wanted, but He did heal the thing that was preventing me from having a relationship with Him.

I still believe God will heal me of the other stuff someday, though whether it be in this life or in the next, that is up to Him.  I realized the wrongness in my prayers those years ago.  God is not a genie for us to call upon when we want something.  Answering my prayer the *way* I wanted would not have brought Him glory.  Even today, in this new year, not knowing how I will pay for my medical supplies without insurance, deeply desiring miraculous healing so life would be easier, I know that it would not teach me faith the way God wants to.

Stripped of everything I have ever depended on, I am left with only Him.  There is a profound peace to be had living in full dependence on God.  It is something I am only beginning to glimpse and understand, as fear still gnaws at me.  And while the road may be harder, if God were to grant me a healing modern medicine can’t explain, I would miss another, greater miracle–learning to live in and love God’s everyday provision.

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Phoenix Feather is on sale now for $.99 on Amazon!

The feather and who it represents is both a catalyst for darkness and destruction, and the vessel of love and hope.  In a world full of joy and sorrow, love and misery, this agent is a light seeking a balance between two inevitable realities in a sinful world, and is ultimately the final hope for something better.

Sowing Seeds in the Soul

When I was seven-years-old, a doctor told me I probably wouldn’t live to be eighteen.

I don’t know why he told me that.  Sure, my diabetes was severe, but not untreatable.  I do know his prognosis had a profound effect on me.  I’ve had a lot of health issues, and the idea of getting well has been like an unattainable dream.  In my mind, it’s an even further stretch than becoming published.  Because of this fatalistic mentality, I’ve never really taken my health seriously.  I’ve been allergic to gluten for eight years; I’ve only recently been 100% gluten free for almost three months.  I know exercise is vitally important, but every exercise regimen I have ever started hasn’t lasted a week.  It’s hard to care about your long-term health when subconsciously you don’t expect to ever get there.

I didn’t recognize the power of those few words until many years later.  Now I can look back and see how my subconscious sabotages can be traced back to that one moment that is burned into my memory.  I can’t remember anything else about that day, not even what the doctor looked like, just those words echoing in my mind.

I remember on my nineteenth birthday finally realizing that I had outlived my expiration date.  It was a great feeling, but it wasn’t strong enough to reverse the seed that had been planted and sown over the past ten years.  Our internal processing is filled with voices whispering at us.  The problem is, that after a while, those voices start to sound like our own, and we listen.  “Every time you solve one health problem, another pops up; why not just live with the curse you know?  You’ll never be healthy, so things like exercise and eating well won’t make a difference.  With your health record, you still probably won’t live that long.”

We need a gardener to come in and trim back the overgrown weeds to find the sapling underneath that never had a chance to properly grow.  Those weeds are often so entangled though, that it might be a painful process.  Sometimes the trimming can happen slowly, with other, loving seeds planted by other people.  Sometimes it happens quickly, with fire, something that rips to our roots and jars us from those habits.

Cleaning up the garden of our souls is never easy, though there is a Gardener who’s skilled and precise in His work so we are safe in His hands.

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” ~Phillipians 4:13

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” ~Romans 12:2

But remember this–you had no control over the seeds that were planted in your heart, only on how you will shape your garden now.  Words are powerful.  They soothe hurts and cut deep.  Be aware of the words you sow.  You never know what you may be planting.

What seeds were planted in your heart by someone else?  Were they seeds that nourished your soul, or weeds that have held you down?  Do you fall into patterns based on those seeds?  If you were able to identify the source of some negative patterns, how did you uproot them?  I love hearing from you!

–I also have an announcement regarding Elemental Magic.  I want to apologize for the extended wait of its release.  It’s mid-October now, and while I had hoped to release it at the beginning of this month, there have been a few delays due to the cover art not being completed on time.  I’m very sorry that I couldn’t make the deadline I set for myself, but it is out of my control.  I hope to have news for you all soon, but I am still waiting on the cover art.–