Lately, my chronic illness has had me feeling like I’m on an insane roller coaster ride, complete with all the high-speed racing, hair-raising turns, and scream-inducing plunges. All those things that make adrenaline junkies feel alive, but just make my stomach turn anxiously.
I hate roller coasters.
*Photo found on Pinterest
When I was younger my parents used to take my siblings and I on vacation in the winter, usually to Florida. Sometime during the trip we’d go to the amusement parks like Busch Gardens & Universal Studios. Because of my very real dislike of the rides, one of my parents (pretty much always my momma) would stay with me while the others waited in the seemingly endless lines to go on their next thrill ride.
I remember visiting a souvenir shop on one of those trips and seeing a key chain that really fit me (but I didn’t get cause I was like 8 years old and I didn’t have any keys…) It had Woody the Woodpecker on it and read, “Certified Coaster Chicken”. Though I didn’t walk out of the store with a new keychain, I never forgot that apt description of me.
This sickness isn’t a ride I stood in line for with eager anticipation. This isn’t something I chose. Somedays I feel like screaming at my body, “Stop the ride!! Certified Coaster Chicken on board - I want off!!!”
Unfortunately, my body doesn’t listen so I’m left holding on tightly during the steep climb knowing the scary plunge is coming. Then when the plunge happens, I’m left trying to adjust my life around the unwanted ride. And lately, that adjusting was making me feel really guilty. I was having to cancel plans on everyone because I was stuck on the couch, unable to really do anything. The dirty dishes weren’t getting cleaned, the laundry was piling up, and my husband was left fending for himself when it came time for supper. People were picking up my slack on top of what they were already doing.
I felt like a failure. Undependable, useless. Lacking. All these things that my heart knows to be lies, yet my mind was struggling to not believe them. My name and “sick” became interchangeable to me. My illness became the definition of me in my head. If “Andrea Blair” was in the dictionary, “sick” would be what defined it.
*Photo found on Pinterst
Then one Sunday as I was washing my hands in the bathroom sink at church and thinking about the message our Associate Pastor had just shared, my mind received clarity. One of the things that was said in the message was along the lines of, “It’s not about how well I perform, it’s about how well He performed.” As I was contemplating that phrase, my mind found peace.
In that church bathroom, my Abba reminded me of something I desperately needed to remember - I am not my sickness.
My illness is just a thing I have right now, it’s not me. I wasn’t created to be sick, this isn’t how I was masterfully designed. I wasn’t crafted to be broken, that’s something the world has done to me. My Creator fashioned me in His image, to work perfectly and flawlessly. Yet I live in a fallen world that still suffers the consequences from humanity’s first sin, where bad things happen and life isn’t only filled with unicorns and lollipops.
We were not promised an easy and perfect life here on Earth. The Bible even says that we’ll face hard times, trials and difficulties. The beautiful thing is that after it warns us of that, it offers us hope and assurance that He’s still in control. In John 16:33 the Word says, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (NIV) I really love the way the Message says it, “I’ve told you all this so that trusting me, you will be unshakable and assured, deeply at peace. In this godless world you will continue to experience difficulties. But take heart! I’ve conquered the world.”
There is coming a day when it will no longer be this way, when we’re no longer faced with the hard stuff. A beautiful day when He will wipe all of our tears away and “there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain”. (Revelation 21:4NIV)
*Photo found on Pinterest
I’m writing this post in hopes of encouraging someone else who may be facing a similar struggle to mine. Maybe yours isn’t related to your health, but it’s still made you feel guilty and question your value as a human. In the struggle a door was left cracked open and the enemy snuck his way inside and started planting his dirty seeds. With each new day and hard thing you’re faced with, your perspective becomes hazier. I’ve been there, Friend. This post attests to that.
This world is only temporary. These trials we face will not last forever. For all who have accepted Jesus, our eternity has been won, our freedom secured. Earth is not our home, we’re simply travelers passing through. One day we’ll be back with our Papa in His perfect home that He’s prepared for us. A home where “bad” no longer exists.
And in that home there is a book with my name in it (and I pray yours is in there as well!)
When I was thinking about the Book of Life, I had a vision. I saw a little girl, maybe 6 or 7 years old. She was dressed in a blue t-shirt with pink coverall shorts and her blonde hair was pulled back into two little pigtails. Under one arm, she had a well-loved brown teddy bear. I saw her standing in a huge room with a cathedral style ceiling. In the middle of the room there was a large, wooden podium and on the podium there was a magnificent book. The pages were cream colored, edged in gold. It was filled beginning to end with beautifully written words. I saw the little girl standing on her tippy toes, taking a peek at this grand book that was lying open. She was scanning the lines looking for her name. When she found it, she began to giggle in delight at what was written beside it. She then turned around and began skipping out of the room with a huge smile plastered across her little face, her eyes twinkling with pure joy.
What was it she read, you wonder? What caused such a happy reaction in the little girl? When she found her name, this is what she read:
“Andrea Blair - Forgiven. Redeemed. Chosen. Cherished. Beloved. Mine.”
When the bad days come, when my sickness flairs up and I’m once again faced with the doubts about my worth, I’m going to return to this vision and remember the pure joy that comes with knowing how my Abba sees me.
I hope it can serve as a reminder for you too, Friend. When the enemy is trying to convince us of how little worth we hold, let’s turn to our Father and ask Him what He thinks of us instead.
*Photo found on Pinterst
