When Things Don't Change...

As I awoke with pain, I sighed. I’m weary. My weekly headaches are getting old. Countless Lyme treatments are getting discouraging. I’m just feeling “done” with all the thousands of dollars of health investments, bloodwork, and doctor’s appointments. 

Yes, health is an investment, and an important one. But sometimes I think we invest in our health to get certain results–to lose weight, to have more energy, to feel better, to feel “normal" again. And when we make those investments with no return, it feels pointless.

The same is true for life and the battle against sin.

What sin do you primarily struggle with? I think we all have at least one… that thing that seems to crouch at the door all the time? Sometimes it feels like it’ll never go away, that no matter how hard we fight it, it’s still right there, reminding us of its presence. It can make it seem like holiness is losing battle. (I don’t say this to negate dependence on Jesus or sanctification, just the reality of how it can feel in a fallen world)

But I think the problem is, we often fight with the motivation of results–not love of God. And that’s something God’s been reminding me of lately.

Honestly, the first thing on my mind when I take my pile of supplements or my daily Lyme tinctures is not love for God and faithfully honoring Him with my limitations and body–it’s a desire to be healed. My response when my Lyme test is still positive 8 years later is a discouraging, “nothing works”.

And the battles with remaining sin can feel the same way.

Granted, hating sin is a good thing. Desiring healing is a good thing. But I have to continually release my grip of attempted control of my life. Continually submit my desires for healing to the God who does what is best for me. Even if that means pain will be by companion until death.

Isn’t that how we should approach our sin too? Let go of the desire to keep the behavior under control or to appear to be doing well in our pursuit of holiness (what an irony!). Instead, we must submit our desires to God. We must ask for His grace and mercy to love and honor Him in our struggle with sin, versus asking Him to take it away.

One day, pain will be a distant memory. Our former battle with sin will be a past reminder of God’s grace and patience with us. Joy will be our constant companion. Brokenness will be restored. All will be made new.

Or as Christopher Ash says, “God is remaking a broken world.”

And that’s where I rest today.

Still Waiting: When God Doesn't Answer Prayer

 

It's so easy to equate God’s love or blessing with things going our way or some form of physical blessing.

We look at things from our minute perspective and think God is with us and answers prayer if He gives us good things. If He gives me a good grade on a test, or heals my friend of sickness, or gives me a good job, or restores the broken relationship, or provides the spouse or child I’ve prayed for—THEN He is a good God who answers prayer. 

But really, all I've done is slapped the world’s perspective on happiness (success, things) on Christian lingo.

What if God’s blessing—the deepest form of grace and love—was actually a no? What if blessing was a form of sustaining grace instead of saving grace? We don’t like to talk about those kinds of answers to prayer because, honestly, they’re hard.

This is what I wrestled with in chronic illness.

What if God never healed me? Could I still love and trust Him? Would He still be loving? Could God be blessing me with weakness and a hard life? Phew, I did not want to think about that. 

Joni Eareckson Tada talks about her paralysis as one of God’s greatest blessings in her life because of how it saved her from herself:

“I had to be healed of my desire to be healed.”

And that’s what prayer does. Tears well up in my eyes as I think back to 7 years ago when I prayed for healing from my bedridden state. I wanted so desperately to be back to normal. Now, I'm still here doing Lyme treatment. If you told me then I'd still be fighting this disease a decade later, I might've killed myself.

But instead, through prayer and pain and process, God helped me release my desire to be healed. 

And you know what? That enabled me to enjoy life much more within my limitations. Yes, it's still hard and frustrating to have waves of fatigue and pain, or to still be dumping money into Lyme treatment. But God has blessed me with the ability to be part of work and community again, and to appreciate what I can do.

That’s what God’s gentle process of suffering does. If we let Him do His work, and don’t refuse it with fists up, fighting Him with anger and bitterness, we will become different people. He will turn our eyes away from our difficulties and towards eternity.

And that will be so much better than “the answer” you initially prayed for. 

Will you let Him do His work?

My Chronic Illness Journey

 

Today marks 6 months of Lyme and Babesia treatment (take 3, read more about my intial searching for answers here). The first time I treated Lyme + co-infections was 5 years ago and it took 2.5 years before I noticed progress. Then I plateaued and my doctor had me try IVs, which made a big difference… until I got chronic hives for 6 months and my health went downhill again. Chronic infections are a beast to kill, even with a great doctor.

Remembering how far I've come helps. 

• I am not bedridden with extreme pain and fatigue anymore. 
• Going to church or the grocery store doesn’t knock me out for the next three days.
• I can work more than five hours a week!

And so even though my pain and assorted symptoms are still hard some days, even though I’m frustrated I still get 3-4 day headaches, I’m encouraged to keep going.

Despite the rollercoaster, my hope is not in healing, but the God of Hope who walks with me. I experience His grace in my weakness, and learn greater dependency. As I die to self and lay down my dreams and desires, I’ve found Jesus better—than health and every other thing.

He is near to me, and He’s near to you today. And one day all this pain will be redeemed. That’s hope, and that makes treatment with no end date worth it.

Hope and Help for Chronic Illness Study Guide

Below is a free resource I wrote for personal and group use. This six week study will help you walk through the Hope and Help for Chronic Illness booklet with a friend or small group. Geared towards those suffering, this study guide provides discussion questions, truths to focus on throughout the week, simple homework, and practical application.

Free to download, so spread the word!

Hope and Help for Chronic Illness Study Guide

Starting Lyme Treatment... Again

“Can I survive starting Lyme treatment all over again?”

I’ve been wrestling through this for the last few weeks, after I found out that two of my infections, Lyme and Babesia, are still active. It explains a lot of my ongoing symptoms, but it is discouraging since I treated hardcore for a few years and saw much improvement. Chronic illness is a roller coaster.

Facing another antibiotics round and then a long-term herbal protocol is something I definitely didn’t see coming, especially as I look towards my next decade of life.

But here I am again, staring at this one month supply of different antibiotics. I know my immune system is much more stable today than 4.5 years ago when I started Lyme treatment and that this will help. Even still, fear, anxiety, dread, grief hit in waves.

Is God good, even if He asks me to repeat the thing that I previously found to be the darkest season of life?

Yes, because God gives grace for each difficult moment, as I’ve experienced again and again.

So here I am, acknowledging, “not my will but Yours be done”, knowing that as God asks me to walk through treatment again, He will be faithful. I’m entrusting the unknowns of my life, health, and financial burden of treatment, to Jesus—my great Provider.

And so I can walk forward in faith, confident that Jesus will not lead me through anything He hasn’t already walked through (Heb. 4:15-16), and that He will never leave me. 

Today’s pain is temporary, but my hope is eternal.

I lost some of the best years of my life.

Chronic illness smacked me upside the head, and suddenly my life was gone. My dreams, hopes, and aspirations vanished. I didn’t know who I was or what I was doing anymore.

During 5 years of pursuing root diagnoses and working through various treatments, I remained stuck with very little life. As a type-A firstborn, you can imagine how infuriating this was to me. At one point in treatment I couldn't work at all. I mostly slept and forced myself to shower, cook food occasionally, or do dishes; all slow, difficult tasks at the time. I couldn’t run a quick errand without crashing for the rest of the day. Everything was miserable. 

Looking back over my twenties, it sometimes feels like part of my life was stolen. Your twenties are supposed to be time of learning, exploring, and making an impact. It’s probably the best part of life… at least the season you have the most energy, drive, enthusiasm, and ambition.

And yet here I was, in bed, not sure how I could make it another day.

What about you? Do you feel like you’ve lost some of the best years of your life too?

It’s excruciatingly difficult, no matter what you're facing. And yet for me, that season of extreme weakness, isolation, and massive limitations made me reconsider my purpose and my identity in ways I never had. 

Honestly, I still don’t know where I'm going in the next 10 years. My life is still slower than most, despite gradual healing. But I do know this: My God is faithful and does not waste anything. 

The years of extreme pain and debilitating fatigue are not for nothing, because my Father is a redeeming God (Joel 2:25, Psalm 126:5). My pain has been God’s method of grace to me, softening my rough edges, producing grace and compassion, and helping me see eternity for what it is. The detour has been my road. A painful and rocky one, yes. But one filled with countless evidence of God’s love and care, if I can only look hard enough to see past the pain. 

That’s what He wants you to see too--His nearness and gentleness and care. And then watch Him redeem the years you lost, and find that gain to be even better.

“And somehow every unexpected climb

Makes Your goodness that much harder to deny

You’ve been good to me I am safe to hope

I will dare to believe when the way is long and slow

And I am full of doubt but You are kind and close

I will trust the detour is the road

This time will not be wasted

All the sorrow I have tasted

You sing hope across the valley of my tears

Sometimes love looks like delay

But You walk me through the wait

And I am learning laughter even here

You are with me here”

The Detour from the album Faithful, various artists

Living with Scars

My body doesn’t heal as well as it should. 

I have a scar on my ankle from scratching myself with a large stick 8 months ago. Yes, a stick.

I laugh, but sometimes I'm a little frustrated with the reminders that my body has not healed from chronic illness yet. The scars still remind me of what a long, difficult journey this has been, and point out my ongoing lack. 

What about you? Do your scars discourage you too?

Maybe you still feel a twinge of pain whenever something reminds you of past hurt. 

Perhaps Christmas is still a difficult reminder of the loss of a loved one. 

No matter how hard you try, maybe your health just won’t improve.

Despite desperate attempts, your marriage or another important relationship remains broken.

It might be your choices that have reaped pain for you, or those you love. 

Or maybe you just experienced loss in general in 2020, and this empty Christmas season vividly reminds you of it.

Often we hide our scars, feeling shame or guilt. We force a smile and pretend they don't exist. We wish they would just disappear. Yet they just continue to remind us of the brokenness of life even when buried deep within.

I wish I could tell you that your scars will go away. But that would be naive. It's possible they may continue to remind you of past hurt. But that doesn't mean healing can't take place. A scar is much different from an open wound that gushes blood every time it's hit again.

Jesus wants to bring healing to your wounds. He desires to take those places of brokenness, pain, and heartache and transform it into something beautiful. Your pain does not have to define you.

"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit." Ps. 34:18

Your scars can be transformed into something beautiful. They can enable you to reach others you would never be able to understand or have compassion towards. Your particular scars provide a unique opportunity for you to love and minister to others who are hurting.

But first you need some healing. Emmanuel (God with us) comes near to dwell with YOU. He wants to comfort and heal your heart.

Will you come to Him?

Life is Hard: Facing the Tough Things with Hope

When I was young, I was scared of suffering and persecution. I wondered if I could stay faithful to Christ under torture. I wanted to follow God, but I questioned if I could endure physical pain, isolation, or rejection, should that come my way.

I loved my home, my family, my comfort, and my community, and I didn't want to lose it.

But in a heartbeat, everything changed. The community I was deeply invested in and trusted, turned on me and my family. Betrayal stung deeper than physical pain. Grief clung like a shadow, reminding me every time I looked at it, of deep loss.

Yet it didn't end. Then came chronic illness. Worsening symptoms for no apparent reason, extreme limitations and pain when I tried to do things I loved, brought more loss and grief. Everything about me, everything that defined me, was suddenly gone. 

I didn't even know who I was anymore. I wanted to give up on God, on my faith. Nothing seemed worth it. 

Faithfulness to Christ hasn't meant a life of abandon on the mission field currently, as I frequently envisioned as a child. It hasn't required prison time, secret church meetings, beatings, or torture. No, but following Christ has still been far more difficult than I imagined... 

It's meant clinging to Christ when everyone in our church turned on us. 

It's meant doing what was right when things were incredibly wrong and unjust. 

It's meant facing hurt and betrayal so deep from people we called friends that it left permanent scars. 

It's meant enduring horrible physical pain and fatigue and isolation.

It's meant walking through lyme and co-infection treatment that I felt would kill me.

It's meant battling my deepest fears and hurt and not denouncing God. 

It's meant experiencing the darkest hopelessness and not taking my own life.

It's meant not rejecting God even though I wanted to blame him for everything horrible that happened.

Those things display a little of what taking up my cross has looked like for me. Most of my suffering has been in silence. It's come from the church, not outside God-haters. It's been in the isolation due to infections in my body, not isolated imprisonment by others. The "backwardness" of my suffering caused me to question everything I believed.

What hard things has God asked you to walk through? Maybe it's not the the pain of persecution or torture. But that doesn't mean it's not just as hard. 

Whatever pain and heartache you wrestle with matters to God. Your questions, anger, and doubt are met with grace and compassion. Scars may remain, but you can experience healing. The trials are God's way of reclaiming your heart, revealing areas where you love something else more than Him. And in that difficult, sanctifying work of suffering, Jesus shines brighter:

"We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies." 2 Cor. 4:8-10

Your suffering produces a beautiful reflection of Christ in you and makes you more sensitive to the hurting people around you. It can help you to love betters and stay focused on what really matters.

And that is a value greater than diamonds.

When Fear Threatens to Take Over

I woke up with a few itchy hives, and fear battled for control of my thoughts. Normally hives wouldn't be a source of fear, but after 15 weeks of chronic hives, my mind immediately spins:

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. 

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.

To those stuck at home....

This has been a crazy time across our nation, with many stay at home orders in place. Perhaps you’re feeling frustrated, stir crazy, unproductive, or limited.

Maybe it’s not because you need to do anything, but your lack of ability to choose where you go or what you do makes you feel stuck.

I get that.

For a year and a half, I was stuck at home in the intensity of chronic lyme + co-infection treatment. Venturing out of my home once a week was a sign of a good week, and usually only for an hour or two, to run an errand or make it to church.

I despised the “stuck” feeling, yet my pain, fatigue, and constantly fluctuating symptoms made it extremely unmotivating to go out. Feeling paralyzed and purposeless, clinging to hope in the slow treatment season was incredibly difficult.

My body was my limitation and it kept me from doing everything I wanted to do.

Today, most of us are stuck at home to some extent. As we're limited in what we can do, let's allow that to increase our compassion for our friends and family members whose limitations keep them from getting out most of the time. That stuck feeling you feel right now? They face it too. That fear of not knowing exactly when this will end? They battle that daily.

Except unlike COVID-19, those with chronic illness have no guarantee it will end. Will this be the rest of life? It could be. They walk moment-by-moment, getting just enough “manna” to make it through the day, not knowing how they can do it again tomorrow.

And somehow, they still do. Because God's grace is sufficient (2 Cor. 12:8-10).

His grace is sufficient for you in this season of job loss, sickness, and unknowns. And it is sufficient for the friend or family member stuck at home with chronic illness.

You now have a fresh understanding of the pain and frustration those with chronic illness face daily. You may not have the exact same struggles, but God can use this season of unknown to cultivate grace in your heart for others.

So love those around you. Be patient and gentle (Rom. 12:10, Eph. 4:2). Extend grace. You can’t always see the internal battles others face.

While you’re waiting to get back to normal life, remember that the chronically ill are desperate to get back any semblance of normal life too. They hate being stuck as much as you.

Let's remember that uncertainty, weakness, and limitations are meant to direct us to the One who has no limitations or needs. They're meant to remind us that we are not self-sufficient. The frustration you feel today is part of life in a broken world. In the unknowns of the future and the limitations of today, may we find God faithful and good--more than ever before.

"May you be strengthened with all power, according to His glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy, giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light."

Colossians 1:11-12

Holding Out Hope

What are you holding out hope for?

We all grasp for hope in some form, because that’s how we’re wired. And right now, with a pandemic sweeping the nation, we're all holding out hope for things to go back to normal.

Just like winter holds out hope of spring, I’ve been holding out hope too. Hope that I would reach some semblance of “normal life” again.

Not normal in same category of my energy and life pre-chronic illness. But not “stuck in bed half the day after a grocery store run” either. Not pain that causes me to stop everything. Just the ability to work and to enjoy life again.

And I’m slowly getting there.

It's a long journey, and not without extreme challenges--continually learning to pace, how to handle "crash days", riding the rollercoaster of daily symptoms (which are milder overall, but not gone), and facing the emotional toll of life with limitations. I'm learning that the journey to healing is a challenge in and of itself.

Countless questions run through my head. Fear can overwhelm and direct those thoughts and questions.

And I bet you feel that right now too, in some way.

If you're desperately longing for hope and feeling like nothing is ever going to work, please don’t give up yet. Let's walk on this journey together. And may we find that as we face our deepest fears and hardest days, God is near. Underneath our cold, wintery exteriors, God gently softens our hearts, bringing healing where there is hurt and brokenness.

Just like winter begins to melt and bright buds spark excitement, bringing hope that the dreary winter will not last forever, hope is within reach for you too.

Will you draw near with me to the One who IS hope?

“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” Lamentations 3:24

Looking Back... (health update!)

I have walked through some very dark nights in my battle with Lyme disease + several co-infections, a developing autoimmune disease, chronic gut infections, mold toxicity, and detox issues. It's been a long journey, including 5 years of ongoing diet, supplement, and medication adjustments, and 2.5 years of rigorous Lyme/co-infection treatment.

Over two years ago I wrote my first post on my chronic illness journey. Looking back now, I'm remembering what I've been through and grateful for where God has brought me, even if it's not complete healing.

Because over the last several years, there have been many restless nights where I was incredibly exhausted, yet couldn’t sleep.

I have experienced stomach pain so severe, I curled up in a ball moaning, feeling like I might die.

I have faced extreme pain and fatigue to the extent I couldn’t even get words out.

I have had fatigue and brain fog so bad I couldn't do anything but stare into space.

I experienced what it was like for doctors to not really believe me or think that I just needed anti-depressants.

I have battled extreme hopelessness, thinking my life had no value and would never improve, to the point that I desperately wanted to take my own life.

I have angrily cried out at God, blaming Him for how He treated me and questioning His goodness and care.

I have battled paralyzing fear.

Honestly, many of these emotions and struggles resurfaced when I started IV treatments in November that significantly increased my pain and fatigue (for a solid 2 months straight). Eighteen IVs later, I'm finally feeling hopeful again about the gradual improvement I've seen.

Yes, I still have pain and inflammation daily (autoimmune repercussions that will linger), but much less severely. I still have to stop and rest or take breaks, but I can get through most days without having to lay down. I still have to pace myself, but I can do things again. May sound small, but this is such a huge, encouraging improvement!

Remembering where I've come and how God has been faithful keeps me moving forward right now. Because I'm still not where I wish I could be. But I'm also not where I was.

For those of you still deep in the darkness of night, wondering how you’ll ever make it through—I don't want to discourage you or minimize your pain. I also don't mean to cast a false idea that my life is wonderful (it's not). But may I encourage you today? Your circumstances may be hard, but hope comes as we remember...

Remember God’s faithfulness (Deut. 7:9, Ps. 40:11).
Remember God’s loving care to you right now (Ps. 56:8, 1 Pet. 5:7).
Remember that joy will come again (Ps. 30:5).
Remember that this will end (2 Cor. 4:16-18).
Remember the gospel—hope bigger than your circumstances (1 Pet. 1:3-9).

This is the hope I'm breathing when life tells me all is hopeless. Will you join me in remembering and resting in the faithfulness of God?

What's the point of this pain?

Do you ever ask yourself, "What's the point of all this pain?"

I do.

I'm trying two new IV treatments which involve me driving 4.5 hours round trip to my doctor once or twice a week. Phew. The rest of my time is spent recovering from driving and treatment and keeping up with basic tasks! I didn't expect another intense treatment round, so it was a very discouraging idea at first. To me, it's kind of a last-resort type of thing to improve lingering pain/fatigue from my years of chronic lyme, co-infections, and autoimmune issues. Thankfully, I'm stable enough to make this drive (HUGE praise!), even though it's exhausting.

Though from the outside this treatment appears hopeful, I have battled a lot of fear. There are many unknowns. About health. Finances. Future. Whether this will make a difference. And many more things...

Can I be honest? The last five years of my life have been one thing after another. I'm tired of living day-by-day. Tired of all the unknowns, the rollercoaster of symptoms and emotions, the physical overreactions to stress, the sudden inability to push through "normal life"... the forced rest, slow pace, mundane.

I'm weary of it all.

Starting new treatment felt like I was choosing to walk through hell. Again. I was very resistant at first. It is still painful for me to recall the excruciating physical pain and fatigue that's resulted from lyme/co-infection treatment. But often what scares me more than physical symptoms is the accompanying deep depression. It has been a long, strenuous battle.

The planner side of me longs for a future. Things to look forward to and to work towards. I long for some semblance of a normal life. Slowing down again to focus on treatment and live day-by-day was not on my agenda!

Then I remember, how long did the Israelites wander through the wilderness, forced to daily rely on God for the most basic need (of food)?

Forty years.

In that long season, God was proving Himself trustworthy to Israel. Over and over. Through their lack, He was teaching them to lean on Him. This was a work of grace. Even in their anger and accusations against God, He continued to demonstrate His kindness to His people.

And He's doing the same for me. For you.

So what's the point of this pain? While I don't have all the answers, I know it is slowly helping me cling to the God, who deserves my trust. To lean on Him instead of myself. To taste and see that He is good, even when life is not. In the midst of the pain, His kindness and care and gentleness are evident, if I will only open my eyes to it.

God may not feel trustworthy to you right now because of the deep pain and heartache you face. It's ok to wrestle in that way. But He has not abandoned you in your wilderness. He displays His love and care for you in your deepest darkness. And the One who has redeemed you will not let you go. Cling to the Rock, and let Him comfort your heart today.

A Good Life

A year ago today I was speaking truth to my heart through tears, hopelessness, and despair.

I desperately wanted life to end, but knew I couldn’t take mine. So I cried out to God, asking why life was so insanely hard. My birthday was full of reminders of broken relationships, broken dreams, and a broken body.

So many times I have questioned the purpose of the last four years of chronic illness and hard circumstances. I've angrily asked God why He took my dreams from me--good dreams of ministry and service to Him. I've wrestled to find purpose in deep pain and loss. I've doubted that my life had any value.

In the pain and heartache last year, I wrote this:

"God isn’t looking for my success. He wants my faithfulness. Right now, in this season, life looks significantly different from what I expected. But that doesn’t mean that my life is a waste. And neither is yours."

Life still isn't what I hoped. My life has been redirected and redefined.

And that's ok.

Everyone reaches a point where dreams die or sorrows swallow. A broken, sin-cursed world causes everything to be laced with pain. The only way to survive those seasons of unbelievable grief or loss is through Christ holding you.

I still have daily reminders that I am limited. Pain and fatigue quickly grab hold and threaten to take over my day. Fear can cause me to wonder if my goals are stupid and unrealistic and will set me back again. Countless questions run through my mind as I slowly heal and consider what next. What will my life will be like for the next month, 6 months, or year? I don't know, but I don't have to know it all.

Despite questions, unknowns, and wrestlings, I have much more hope than I did a year ago! God has carried me through my deepest difficulties I've yet known, when I didn't think I could make it. I have seen progress in my health that I didn't think was possible. I have goals I'm working towards and things I can do now that were unimaginable a couple years ago.

Your hopes for life may be crushed, but God believes that your life has purpose and can be pleasing to Him. Right here and now. Your life may have changed, but He has not. There is a source of hope and even joy that can be found amidst great heartache.

So keep pressing forward. Keep creating goals. Keep looking for ways to bless others. Keep looking up. A good life is not defined by accomplishments, success, or the approval of others, but by faithfulness and dependence on God. 

That is an attainable goal today.

Book Review: The Promise is His Presence

I had the privilege of being part of a book launch for the brand-new book, The Promise is His Presence: Why God is Always Enough, by Glenna Marshall.

Glenna speaks out of much suffering, including two things that resonated deeply with me: chronic illness and church pain. She talks about the many unmet longings we wrestle with in suffering and how it’s easy to believe that if God would grant our heart’s desires (especially good desires!), we would be fulfilled.

And yet through her season of lack, Glenna shares how God’s withholding of good things taught her to cling more closely to Him. She gently, but powerfully, comforts with the promise of God's presence being more than enough. No matter the pain or heartache we face.

Weaving the narrative of Scripture throughout her book, Glenna encourages readers by showing how God’s presence sustains and brings hope in the midst of difficult circumstances. She also shares honest glimpses of how God brought her personally to a place of resting in this truth of God being enough.

I love the way she expresses it in chapter one:

“Whatever plagues your heart with longing cannot be answered satisfactorily outside God’s faithful presence. He might give you every tangible desire you could ever dream up, but if your heart is not satisfied in Him, you will never stop yearning for more.”

Anyone who has suffered will tell you that God met them in deeper ways than they ever encountered in seasons of blessings and fulfillment. They realize the emptiness of temporary things. The truth of God's nearness sustains and strengthens through the darkest of days. His presence is the only place of rest and security.

No matter where you find yourself today, you will find encouragement and hope in this book. Take a moment to order!

One Year Anniversary of Hope and Help for Chronic Illness!

This month marks the one year anniversary of Hope and Help for Chronic Illness! This was my first published writing endeavor, so it is a sweet memory for me.

I'm still in awe of how God orchestrated the writing and publishing of that booklet (read more of the story here).

You see, I too was given the hard blessing of chronic illness. But through the most difficult years, I have experienced God’s sustaining grace in deeper ways than ever before. And so I am thankful.

If you are facing chronic illness, my heart goes out to you. It is not an easy road. You may wonder if you will make it another day, or another week. But the hands that are holding you are strong, and will not fail you. There is hope in the pain.

If you or someone you know battles chronic illness, could I encourage you to look into Hope and Help for Chronic Illness?

You can purchase from Amazon, Focus Publishing, or Christianbook.com.

Also, check out the recent booklet review on the Biblical Counseling Coalition.

When Trusting Jesus Isn't Sweet

“Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.” 
- The Princess Bride

It's funny... and yet piercingly true, right?

Life in a broken world overflows with difficulty. Pain. Heartache. Disappointment. Broken relationships. Failed health. Crushed dreams.

Have you found that trusting Jesus is more terrifying and even agonizing than you ever imagined? That the joy you were told trust would produce is not the reality in your heart?

You're not alone. This is a common struggle, especially in long seasons of suffering.

It isn’t easy to trust in the dark, to surrender our will and release control. Yet in the darkness, God  becomes our light (Ps. 112:4, 18:28). He longs to bring us to a place of security and rest much more satisfying than our push for our own little kingdoms.

Today, trusting Jesus doesn’t have to be "sweet". You don't have to fake happiness and joy. It's ok to wrestle or grieve the pain you encounter. Give yourself grace to process and time to learn trust in the caring Father.

But even in your wrestling, keep clinging to God's promises. 

Actively choose to trust His goodness, despite the deep pain and heartache (Ps. 28:7). Even though it may feel like He is against you, remind yourself of the truth that He is always for His children (Rom. 8:31). That everything He does is good (Ps. 119:68). Find truth that you can rest your life on and hold onto it with everything you have. Run to the Father who loves you and walks with you:

"Suffering can decimate your faith and leave you with life-altering doubts about the goodness and power of God. So in your suffering, doubt is a battle worth fighting. Remember, you never fight this battle alone but with the strength that is yours because of the presence and power of the One who gave his life so that you would have everything you need even in the darkest of moments in this fallen world. Cry out to your Lord. He hears; he really does. Run to him; he cares and will not turn his back on you in your moment of need." Paul Tripp 

Through that wrestling and clinging in the darkness, God does His deepest, most beautiful work. He gently brings your heart to a place of rest. So even if today trusting Jesus isn't sweet, one day you will be able to sing:

'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus,
Just to take Him at His Word
Just to rest upon His promise,
Just to know, "Thus saith the Lord!"
Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him!
How I've proved Him o'er and o'er
Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus!
Oh, for grace to trust Him more!
-'Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus

Oh for grace to trust Him more. We all need that grace today.

Stuck in a Life You Didn't Choose

What are you facing today that you never would have asked for?

If we're honest, we all encounter circumstances in life we despise and desperately wish we could get out of.

For me, despite seeing some health improvement from a couple years of chronic lyme + co-infection treatment, I still have autoimmune issues that aren't improving yet. After thousands of dollars of investments in immune support, endless supplements, special diets, detox protocols, and more, this is a very discouraging reality.

In those moments, anxiety and fear can take over my mind and paralyze me. I could stay stuck in the "what-ifs" and hopelessness, refusing to move forward in life. Or I can cling to what is true and find ways to hold to hope in my reality.

So what is true? When you’re stuck living a life you would never choose, what do you do?

• Grieve. Yes, when you face the brokenness of life, it's right to grieve. The curse is deep and far-reaching. Don't bury your emotions, take them to the Father.
• Trust. Your heavenly Father knows best and only does what is good for you. Believe that even when circumstances seem to contradict it.
• Cling. Hold to hope. Rest in the solid Rock who won't let you down no matter how many people or circumstances do.
• Seek. Look for evidences of God's grace to you. Find joy in the little things. Remind yourself of what you have instead of dwelling on what you don't. Grasp any form of joy you can find.
• Just keep swimming. In Finding Nemo, Dory's optimism (naiive or not) keep her and Marlin searching for Nemo when Marlin's fear paralyzes him. It's terrifying to think of making decisions or moving forward when the weight of life or limitations suffocates. But we must continue to do what we can and "keep swimming," instead of giving up.

Being stuck in a life you didn't choose can leave you feeling hopeless. But Paul Tripp has an interesting insight:

"So it is with suffering; it never leaves you the same. You run into the traps of temptation that greet every sufferer and are left with a cruel harvest in your heart and relationships, or you run toward the comforts of grace, which shine most brightly in the darkness of suffering, and reap a harvest of blessing. Yes, you may continue to suffer, or its effects may remain, but you now live with a changed heart, a sturdier faith, and a joy that suffering cannot take away." Paul Tripp

Where do you find yourself today? Are you left with the "cruel harvest" of bitterness, cynicism, and hopelessness? Or has God's grace done a work in your heart?

If you, like me, find yourself on either side of the spectrum depending on the day, continue to press in and find comfort and strength in the arms of the Father. You may not have chosen your life, but God has, and His ways are always good. Perhaps they don't feel good, but they will reap good fruit if you will humbly submit yourself to His plan. He will not waste your suffering.

12 Things Your Chronically Ill Friend Wants You to Know

As someone who battles chronic illness, I know how difficult it can be to understand or explain everything going on physically, spiritually, and mentally. So from my personal experience and interaction with others, I wanted to share some things that may help you better understand what your friend or family member is going through.

12 things your chronically ill friend wants you to know:

1. We get lonely. Being stuck in the house, greatly limited in mobility, or lacking energy to make it through events/activities gets incredibly lonely. So a huge way you can help is to simply be a friend. Be willing to do boring things like sit beside us on the couch and listen or talk, watch a movie, read, fold laundry, or even cry with us. Those simple acts go a long way.

2. We don't want to be a burden. It's hard to ask for help on the same basic tasks when you've faced illness for several years. The church tends to do an excellent job at helping in crises, but has a harder time serving long-term. Offering to bring food, make freezer meals, clean the bathroom, do simple chores, pick up groceries, or drive to a doctor's appointment are lifesavers.

3. We’re afraid. The future is overwhelming and at times feels hopeless. We don't know if a new treatment will make any difference. We don't know if you (or our doctor) will believe us, especially when so many tests come back just "fine". We don't know whether our current state is lifelong, so we probably battle a lot of forms of fear.

4. We don’t know how to explain our symptoms. Most of our symptoms are invisible to the outside world, so it takes a lot of effort to communicate them. It's sweet and caring when you ask how we're feeling in a given hour or day. But sometimes it's overwhelming to answer because we can't verbalize how bad we really feel. Or sometimes we sugar-coat answers because we don't want to complain or make you feel sorry for us.

5. We don’t want to be sick. We aren’t making this up to get out of something or because we're lazy. On the contrary, a majority of chronic illness sufferers get to that chronic place because they’ve pushed and worked super hard to act normal for so long. It can also cause us to feel guilty we can’t provide for ourselves or contribute anything of value.

6. Plans stress us out. Not because we don't desperately want to do something with you, but because our symptoms come and go as they please. We can't predict how we'll feel on a given day and be able to push through, or whether we'll get nailed with a flare. So don't pressure us to do things; allow us to come and go, to choose activities, parties, or hang out with you when we can.

7. We can push through anything, but that doesn't mean it's wise. The chronically ill are amazing at pushing through commitments or doing things even when in a lot of pain. But that could mean they face repercussions for the next week with a magnified flare of symptoms. We have to use wisdom and pace ourselves so we don't worsen our symptoms unnecessarily or lengthen our healing process even more. It's a constant weighing of factors, which can lead to the next point...

8. We overthink. This is a common response when you're exhausted: to misinterpret people, overthink their responses or yours, to get frustrated or emotional about the tiniest of things. We overthink whether we should push and do something or whether that's a really unwise idea. We need gentle, patient friends who can help us discern things we overthink and can't interpret well.

9. We don’t know how to process emotions. Grief, anger, doubt, despair, and the countless emotions that come with the territory of chronic illness are paralyzing. Sometimes they make no logical sense or simply result from ongoing insomnia, pain, and fatigue. Be a gentle comforter and encourager to us when we are overwhelmed with emotions.

10. Our experiences are unique. Though many generalized symptoms hit those with chronic illness, particular symptoms and the way they affect us will vary, as will the struggles and temptations that come. Ask questions before making assumptions about us and how we're doing.

11. We lose hope. Hope is hard to hold onto in any form of ongoing suffering. We may even get to the point that we want to die. It’s hard to admit that. Don’t guilt-trip us for losing hope, direct us to the only place where lasting hope is found—in Jesus Christ.

12. We need prayer. The journey is long and hard. Even for those who are healing, it's full of ups and downs. Please be patient and pray for us—to persevere when we want to give up and to cling to Jesus when life is hard or hopeless.

This is not a comprehensive list, but I hope it provides some insight into what your chronically ill friend may be facing and how you can better serve them.

Detours: An Unexpected Grace

Some days, I get things checked off my to-do list and am proud of my accomplishments. Other days, I have grand plans, and my symptoms nail me, forcing me to stop and rest.

Early on in chronic illness, I lived in almost constant frustration with the de-railing of my plans and would become incredibly overwhelmed at my inability to accomplish my goals. However, over the last few years God has continued to teach me to rest and accept the detours as a form of grace.

While setting and accomplishing goals are very good things, it’s so easy for me to attach my worth to what I do. I become obsessed with my accomplishments, my success, my dreams, my goals, my ministry.

So God, in His grace, gently reminds me that focusing on myself or what I do never provides purpose and hope. It doesn't last. He redirects the day, stripping away temporary things and offering something eternal (2 Cor. 4:17-18).

Instead of believing the lie that God is somehow against me or keeping what’s best from me, I must speak the truth to my heart that God is good and all He does is good (Ps. 119:68). That He who sacrificed His own Son for my sake would not deny me anything good (Rom. 8:28). That what I see as a wasted detour is actually God's pruning method so I might be more fruitful (Jn. 15:1-2).

If I can bring the gospel to mind in my detours, I can recognize:

Even the delaying of my goals or the frustration of my plans is an act of God’s grace.

Yes, including the timing on this very blog post. My own writing agenda and goals were delayed time and time again. I've attempted to finish a blog post for an entire week (talk about waste of time!), with my own share of detours, chronic illness flares, wrestlings over writing, and inability to communicate my thoughts.

While it's been frustrating to feel so stuck, God is using this to remind me to let Him do His work today in the delays. To not fight it. To accept today's detours as an unexpected, but good, grace of God. He only does what is best for me. And for you. 

May we learn to rest in His goodness and care.

"For the Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord bestows favor and honor. 

No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly." 

Psalm 84:11