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Through It All

Through It All
 
Though majestic mountains and gorgeous ocean beaches surround us, their beauty is often lost or forgotten amid the mist and sullen grey skies of the rainy season.

During the winter and spring months we can go for days, even weeks, without seeing any sign of sun.

We look to the heavens in anticipation. We yearn for blue sky — for warming rays upon our saturated bodies, and we feel justifiably deprived without them.

It recently occurred to me that this is not unlike my faith journey.

I love to bask in the glory of the sunshine. I take in the scenery and breathe in the beauty around me. The wonderful scent of fragrant blossoms fills the air and I am peaceful and full of thanksgiving.

When the sun disappears my contentedness and store of blessings sustain me for a time but eventually give way to feelings and emotions as sombre as the skies above.

I am certain that the Lord loves me, so why am I so prone to such extremes? Why do I feel like I'm in a constant battle to “keep the faith?”

For me the answer lies in my lifelong battle with Crohn's disease. The last four years have been exceptionally tough and as I journey through difficult days, I struggle to not be overwhelmed by things that might cloud my view of the Father.

Pain, doubt, fear, anger, and fatigue often threaten to overshadow my days and drain the joy from my spirit. Questions flood my mind. “Hasn't this gone on long enough?” “Where are you?” “Have I done something to deserve this?” “Will this ever end?” “Why?”

These questions are not uncommon when we believe life has treated us unfairly. We pray for relief and expect “yes” answers. And if we don't get our preferred outcome, we choose to reject His answer or convince ourselves that He hasn't answered at all.

When we see someone struggling or in pain we feel the need to do something. I can't tell you the number of times well-meaning Christians have said, “You need to be healed!” In reality this response has the potential to isolate me further. Thoughts rush through my mind. “They don't understand that I can't ask for healing one more time. I can't go there again, at least not today.”

It's not that I've given up, but after a long journey I've learned to strive to be content in my circumstances. That does not mean that Crohn's defines me but rather that I've given up the struggle of it and I've put it on the altar, satisfied that my Creator knows what's best for me.

It has taken a long time to get to this place but I now realize there is blessing and joy in the midst of pain. What initially seemed so unfair has in fact drawn me to God and keeps me clinging to His side. It has obliterated my pride and my wilful independence, it has given me a crazy sense of humour, and it has caused me to be ever mindful of the needs of others.

I can honestly say I am thankful. I'm thankful for what this disease has taught me and for the people I've met because of my Crohn's. They have enriched my life and I would not have met them otherwise.

Are there still days of struggle? Absolutely. But I've learned even though I can't always see God in my circumstances, I am assured that He is in the storm and the drizzle of my hardest days. I see His love in the faces of my husband and kids, I feel His goodness in their hugs, and they are my greatest joy. The Lord's promises nourish my anemic, worn out spirit; He refreshes me and gives me hope.

When I was young and far from the mountains, my mother taught me to memorize Psalm 121. It is a Psalm of ascent, a Psalm of trust, a Psalm for the road, sung by the Israelites on their journey to the Holy City. We recently sang these lyrics in our worship service.

 

 

I lift my eyes up to the mountains,
where does my help come from?
My help comes from You, Maker of Heaven,
Creator of the earth.
O how I need You Lord, You are my only hope;
You're my only prayer.
So I will wait for You to come and rescue me,
Come and give me life.
1

 

 


I find it remarkable that our journey has brought us to the beautiful province of British Columbia where I can look out my kitchen window and actually see the …. Oh my, the sun is shining! Gotta go.


1 Psalm 121 (I Lift My Eyes Up). © 1990 Mercy/Vineyard Publishing. Words and Music by Brian Doerksen.


 


About the Author:  Deb Lowell

 


 
Deb Lowell