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

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.

Chronic Illness Lessons: Identity

Who am I?
What makes me, me?
Where do I find value and purpose?

Have you asked yourself these questions? I think we all have. Each person looks for something to make them unique or give them purpose and value.

Consequently, identity struggles are a normal part of life. For instance, God created us for work (Gen. 2:15) and relationships (Gen. 2:18). It is not wrong, but a reflection of God Himself, to find joy and excitement in those things. However, because of the curse, those good things often become ultimate things, and the way God created them to function becomes distorted and sin-raided.

While we all battle identity issues, chronic illness seems to present an identity crisis. It strips away what we previously thought defined us and causes us to question everything. We are told to find our identity in Christ (Col. 3:3). But what does that look like when you battle chronic illness? 

Chronic illness has unveiled my own identity issues more than anything else I’ve experienced. Here are some things I’ve learned:

1. You can’t define yourself by what you do (or don’t do). You may be unable to contribute like the average person or keep up with normal life. While you feel this tension of what you want to do and what you're able to do, it's good to remember that limitations are part of being human. Identity in Christ frees you from defining yourself by what you do.

2. Your value isn’t defined by what others think. It's tempting to look to others for validation or for them to understand. Identity in Christ frees you from looking to others for value.

3. You can rest without striving. Even when resting, it’s easy for to strive internally. “I need to do this… if only I could accomplish this….why can't I do that?…” Even though we may be physically stopping, we can act as if the world can’t go on without us. Identity in Christ frees you to rest.

4. It’s ok to fail. There will be days you feel like a failure because of where you’re at physically or your lack of accomplishments. There will be numerous moments of sinful responses. Identity in Christ frees you from being defined by your failure.

5. It’s ok to say no. You don't have to fix everything or take on every need. Consider what is wise for you, and learn to say no when it's necessary. Identity in Christ frees you from the burden of being the savior of anyone or anything.

6. You can accept your current state of health, while being hopeful for the future. Honestly accepting your limitations is necessary for healing, but you can be hopeful for the future. Identity in Christ frees you from placing your hope in your healing, while remaining hopeful.

7. You can be grateful when your idols are unveiled. Yes, there are emotions and struggles that come about from the stress and physical, but there will be heart issues as well. Be grateful, because God is using it to refine you. Identity in Christ allows you to honestly confess your sin.

8. Your value doesn’t rest on your performance. Your value rests on the finished work of Christ, not anything you do. Identity in Christ frees you from performing to earn favor.

9. You are not defined by your illness. After a while, sickness becomes comfortable, no matter how desperately you want it to improve. It may be the only identity left, since everything was stripped away. So you may become afraid to lose it. Identity in Christ frees you from fear.

10. Your life is not worthless. You are of great value, loved and accepted, because you are made in the image of God! Don’t ever believe the lie that it would be better if you were gone or that you’re too much of a burden on everyone else. Your life has purpose, even if you can’t see it. Identity in Christ gives you purpose, no matter what life looks like.

As long as we find identity in success, performance, achievements, relationships, serving, or anything temporary, we will be prone to either pride or despair. Tremendous freedom flows when we find our identity in our Savior.

If your purpose and value has been stripped away by chronic illness, learn to see that as a blessing. When God takes away what doesn't last, He wants to replace it with something permanent. He wants you to find your identity, your hope, your joy, and your fulfillment in Him alone. Learning to rest in your identity in Christ will make you much more fruitful and effective and bring hope in the darkest of days.

If you missed it, check out part one on grief!