Health Answers and Some Reflections

This is a rather surreal post for me to write.

I’ve been spending the past few weeks processing the gift of something I’d come to terms with possibly never having: answers. Answers to some mysterious health issues I’ve been trying to figure out since I was a teenager living in Mongolia.

I’ve talked about my health struggles publicly just a little bit, most in-depth in this post and this podcast interview. But it’s been challenging to know how to communicate about these issues due to the baffling nature of them. It’s brought me to some very low points where clinging to the Lord was my only source of comfort.

But after some leads on a clinic that might be particularly suited to look into these kinds of health issues, Judah and I decided it was worth pursuing. And after just three tests, there it was. The doctor said, “Well, we certainly know why you feel so badly.” Words I never thought I’d hear. When I told Judah the results of my appointment, he looked at me and said, “Wow. You finally have an answer. Praise God.” He folded me in his arms and I just cried while he thanked the Lord.

In short, I’m a house to three kinds of mold along with several infections that interact poorly with the mold causing a whole host of symptoms. My body hasn’t been able to naturally detox from the mold exposure from where we lived overseas, so it’s just gotten worse over time (with potential cumulative exposure in the years since). Essentially, it’s a fusion of CIRS (chronic inflammatory response syndrome) and ME/CFS (chronic fatigue syndrome). So I’m now in the beginning of a detox that will take a year or more.

Finding these answers has brought out quite a range of emotions and sorting out lots of thoughts I couldn’t quite articulate before. 

Relief is the most prominent of emotions, since I finally have definitive answers and ways to help. But I’ve also had to wrestle over some unearthed hurt from comments I’ve received from a few health care professionals over the years. I don’t think I realized until now just how much their seeming lack of care or insensitive remarks affected me. But, praise God, there is grace to forgive and lay that to rest in Him. I can only imagine how many people have had to show me grace for unknowingly hurtful comments I’ve made. And I’m so grateful for those who showed such kindness even when they hit a dead end—there have been many such providers.

During those years I also had to regularly battle the thought that I really was crazy, and that I couldn’t trust my own judgement. I wondered, too, if anyone else actually believed me. The strain of chronic pain day after day with no end (or even answer) in sight felt too much to bear at certain moments, especially since there has often been little outward evidence of the inward difficulty. When you hear, “Everything looks normal,” or, “There’s nothing we can really do,” over and over and over, it can be disheartening to the core. But—you simply have to keep going, keep pushing through the best you can, keep taking supplements and drinking enough water, keep hoping that maybe, one day, you’ll have an answer.
I’ve articulated it recently like this: it felt like until I had a solid answer I didn’t have permission to suffer.  Truth really matters to me. But I often wondered if I was, indeed, lying to myself about how badly I felt as an excuse to be lazy or seek attention. I wondered if the lack of answers was actually what defined reality, and I should just pretend like I felt fine and hope it would just go away (which I tried lots of times). Of course, the fact that I am sinful and have to battle all kinds of temptation everyday just muddies it all the more—repentance from wrong attitudes and words and selfishness and pride are a regular occurrence for me. However, discovering that there is indeed a very real physical issue at play is a grace for me in this season. It truly is a gift from God to know why I feel like I do. Obviously it’s no excuse for sin, but it helps me recognize when I’ll be more prone to impatience, and need to be extra watchful over my tongue; to discipline myself to rest and accept help, and faithful with whatever productivity looks like (or doesn’t look like) for me on any given day.

All of that said, I’ve also found myself treasuring the precious gifts the Lord taught me in all those years of waiting and wondering. He brought me to a place again and again of resting in His love and care for me. A thousand times I had to surrender my longing for an answer, trusting that He would give it if and when He saw fit, and while I waited, I had the guarantee that He would give joy and peace in Himself no matter what. He had lessons for me to learn in the unknown—lessons I wouldn’t trade for anything. Lessons about His character, the depths of His kindness and wisdom, and where my ultimate identity and reassurance is found. He used those mysteries to expose deep-seated sin issues He wants to weed out and renew. I’ve experienced the reality again and again that His grace really is sufficient, and His power is made perfect in weakness (2 Cor. 12:9). I praise Him for that with all my heart.

And now, my desire is that I would steward the answers He’s given, whether He allows healing from this detox protocol or not. I know insecurity will still rear it’s ugly head. I’ll still have to repent of snappy responses and grumpy attitudes. Discouragement will still come knocking when I see everything I can’t do and all the ways I’m still weak. This certainly won’t mean the end of suffering this side of heaven—if not this, then something else. But I trust the Lord to continue to sanctify me through it all. My hope is not in diagnoses or supplements or any other thing: it’s in Jesus, now and always.

So, why do I share all this? I have two reasons:

First, because I hope that someone might be helped along their own mysterious chronic illness journey through what we’ve discovered. Others’ stories over the years have played an integral part in putting the puzzle pieces together in my own health journey. Although there are many in the world dealing with strange chronic illness, it can often feel isolating, especially when we don’t know what to make of it ourselves. Sometimes a story like this provides a clue or simply some measure of hope or comfort in the middle of discouraging mystery. 
Second, but of the deepest significance: I pray that someone will be pointed back to the faithfulness of Jesus when they need it most. We aren’t guaranteed answers or physical healing (and sometimes answers only bring news that there won’t be healing apart from a miracle). But as redeemed children of God we have a brilliant glory that awaits us. No matter how much pain and suffering accompanies us in this life, Jesus is waiting there at the finish line. All we have to do is keep running with perseverance, our eyes fixed on Him. And often we need brothers and sisters in Christ to help spur us on, reminding us of truths we’re struggling to see on our own through the suffering.

I recently listened to a podcast interview with Joni Eareckson Tada, a woman who was thrown into a life of quadriplegia after a horrible diving accident. It’s left her with decades of chronic pain along with the lack of use of her arms and legs. When asked about the chronic pain she experiences, she replied this way:

“In a strange way I welcome the dark, difficult guest of pain in my life. I welcome it because I know it is the gash through which more grace will pour into my life. And I have counted that grace and that nearness and that sweetness to Jesus Christ as worth the pain. That’s a hard thing to say when I feel like screaming, but I believe it to this day. And sometimes I lie on my bed at night and I am so happy in Christ despite the pain that I’m crying that I’m so happy. Cause He’s really worth it. And I don’t know that I can convince people of it except that they just have to take me as saying the truth. It’s a matter of faith…”

As I listened I began to cry. I’ve experienced only a fragment of the physical suffering this dear woman of God has borne for decades. But reflecting back on my own 15 years of health issues, I know I’ve tasted of this reality of nearness to Jesus, too. I long for this to be my testimony along with Mrs. Tada, in any and every valley I walk through. He’s really worth it; I believe it with every fiber of my being. And I trust that He is working all of these things for my good until He brings me home.

Your friend,