What if they don’t go away? What if they get really severe again?
It was a nightmare. Several months ago, a few random hives started up for unknown reasons. I thought they'd go away. But after gradually getting worse over a few weeks, I knew something wasn't right.
After a severe, painful hives explosion that I thought might send me to the ER (during COVID), my doctor prescribed several meds that I’ve been on for around 10 weeks now. And they made a huge difference. I thought the hives were pretty much gone.
But today fear and panic set the tone for my day when a handful of hives bugged me again (even with meds).
Life is hard, and so much is outside of our control. One day I’m making it just fine and proud of my health progress, the next day pain and fatigue take over and I’m helplessly crying again, discouraged about my limitations.
Weakness threatens all forms of self-sufficiency. It combats pride in my success or accomplishments. It tells me, “you can’t do this.” And that's when fear laughs.
Fear, in and of itself, is not wrong. But as Paul Tripp says, it makes a very bad master. Fear can drive me to despair and hopelessness.
Or it can point me to the One where true hope is found.
When my lack of control stares me in the face and I don’t know what next week or even tomorrow will look like, I have to consciously stop the spiral of fearful thoughts and choose to focus on what’s true today:
God is in control.
When my lack of control stares me in the face and I don’t know what next week or even tomorrow will look like, I have to consciously stop the spiral of fearful thoughts and choose to focus on what’s true today:
God is in control.
He is faithful.
My life might be hard, but He is still good.
God has not left me alone.
While I don’t know what will happen tomorrow and whether my health will see improvement or another crisis, I know there will be sufficient grace then. Manna grace as I like to think of it—the kind Israel experienced in the day-by-day provision of their most basic needs. Not the kind of grace that takes us out of the hard, but the kind of grace we actually need.
So while my life hasn’t looked like I “planned”, and even though healing still includes ups and downs, God is still there. He has not left me. He is not wasting my pain—but redeeming it, somehow. He will not allow anything that is not for my benefit.
It may not be what I want. But somehow, it will still be good.
And that’s what I’m clinging to today.
While I don’t know what will happen tomorrow and whether my health will see improvement or another crisis, I know there will be sufficient grace then. Manna grace as I like to think of it—the kind Israel experienced in the day-by-day provision of their most basic needs. Not the kind of grace that takes us out of the hard, but the kind of grace we actually need.
So while my life hasn’t looked like I “planned”, and even though healing still includes ups and downs, God is still there. He has not left me. He is not wasting my pain—but redeeming it, somehow. He will not allow anything that is not for my benefit.
It may not be what I want. But somehow, it will still be good.
And that’s what I’m clinging to today.
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