Grace that heals
"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall their be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. And He who was seated on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new." Also He said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true." And He said to me, "It is done! I am the Alpha Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give you the spring of the water of life without payment."" Revelations 21:4-6
Doing this whole hospital thing wears on me. I don't know if I'll ever get used to it. The commute, the parking, the hustle, the wait...everything. I've gotten into the habit of getting in, going over the list, and getting out. It really is THAT suffocating to be there. It's a place where the human damnation inside of us physically collects. It's our sin, our brokenness, and our zero capacity all jammed into one claustrophobic maze of waiting rooms and operating tables.
A couple weeks ago, when Ryan was getting his cognitive testing done for the majority of the day, I walked down the hall to get a drink from the water fountain. I stopped to see this view. Instead of getting caught up in the "do," I decided to stop for a moment and just "be." Time slowed down enough to let all that is going on in our lives resonate and absorb. Our reality hit hard.
Every time we walk into this teaching hospital, I can't help but take in all the hurting souls that spend so much of their time here. It doesn't even take words. People wear their journey's on their faces in the elevators, pacing the halls, and waiting for the nurse to call their name. Unlike Ryan, there are many disabilities people live with that are much more clear to the eye. Sometimes I wish Ryan's issues were more visible but, after walking through this hospital on a monthly basis, I'm incredibly grateful they aren't. I looked out that window, at all those buildings, and the shackles of our own mortality were overwhelmingly heavy. Yet, God's love for us is outrageous enough to set us free from those bonds through Jesus Christ. He gave us the Kingdom on earth. I look forward to whole, ageless bodies...no more hospitals! Let Heaven come!
My life with Ryan has been the longest, shortest, fullest, and most painful (almost) 8 years of my life. I thought about the fact that our life together is on an accelerated timeline. I never thought I would be standing there looking out that window. I never thought I would know the in's and out's of a medical campus. I never thought I would be watching my husband, one of the youngest in the cancer wing, sit as the patient waiting to be seen. I've loved him deeper than I thought possible, despite all that is lacking and all that is too much. My heart has bled out with him and for him. I did not think this would be our life together, yet, this is where we've been planted.
I think of those sent into exile in Jeremiah 29. God didn't want His people to dwindle away waiting for their freedom. They went all in and sold themselves to false prophesies, all in hopes that their exile would be short and painless. But God knew it would be otherwise. So Jeremiah was told to deliver that hard-to-hear message. They were told to build. They were told to marry. They were told to multiply. And they were told to seek the welfare of the city of Babylon. He called them to adjust to a new normal. He called them to adapt to their new surroundings, accept where they had been planted, and make it home for a while. A whole generation lived and died there before they were set free.
This is a crucial lesson in life, no matter where you are in your walk. It takes too much energy to sit and breathlessly wait for circumstances to change. It takes too much energy, not to mention, it's a destructive path to attempt making sense of why God allowed this in your life. It's only when we hit the end of our rope that accepting where we have been planted becomes a more natural (or supernatural) response. I've hit the end of my rope many, many times, and it has been through this repetition that this mode of operation has gradually become easier, even though circumstances certainly haven't. I've realized I can do all things, even the impossible (right here and now), when I choose to abide in Him. And through Him, I can face the giants of this life.
Don't run away from your brokenness. Don't pretend it's not there. Embrace the truth of it and be humbled by it. It is in that place that Christ becomes real to us and grows bigger inside of us. It's the door to His heart and the path to a fullness that could be ours.
Much has changed for Ryan and our family in a very short period of time. In the beginning of all this, we ran through all the worst case scenarios. Naturally, we prayed the Lord would spare us from some of these struggles. That has not been God's story for us, but He has become bigger, louder, and closer to us than we could have ever imagined as we explore deeper into the unfamiliar. We are becoming acquainted with a side of the Lord that we've never known before and it's breaking our chains, crushing our box, and blowing our minds. Our bodies aren't being healed. But our spiritual iniquities are.
The awareness of the loss always grows this time of year and it's getting overwhelmingly real. I reached the height of "caretaker burnout" and we've had to make some major changes to keep us afloat. There is so much I can't share here, but I can say we aren't walking or crawling anymore. We are being 100% carried by the Lord. Our dependency on Him only grows. It's beautiful and it's agony all at once.
Ryan is now on medical leave to continue seeking out answers to whatever is going on. We still don't have any explanations. We are grateful many of the big appointments are done and passed, all before the holidays, but we continue to wait for answers, results, and follow ups. Please pray for patience and peace as we wait. While we've been waiting, we are watching Ryan succumb to his exhaustion, become more disconnected from reality, and struggle with listlessness.
Copyright 2015 ->Renee Sunberg
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