Wounded Healers

So, I guess it might be one of those "back to square one" moments.

Let me explain myself. I know this may seem rather annoying, but I just realized that, in so many words, something I'd thought I'd gotten over I actually haven't. It just came back with a new face. The name of this nasty "thing"? Listening to the Mirror.

Once upon a time the evil Queen asked her Mirror who was the fairest in all the land. Ever since that day, we humans have looked to mirrors, both real and metaphysical, to define us. Not that I'm bashing real mirrors. I rather like the real ones, because they're nice enough to tell me whether I look nice or like a slob, or when I have a pimple that looks like a third eye protruding from the middle of my forehead. What I hate are the metaphysical ones. Because the fact is the old saying, "Mirrors never lie" is false in and of itself.

Now, I guess in reality, I'm not talking about mirrors but about Satan. I'm talking about how he just loves to make me look at a warped view of myself, a destructive window to my soul, and then try to take away every single shred of joy or happiness I could try to have. He makes me focus on my failures to the point where I'm completely blinded to anything but them. And I begin to despair because of those failures. I guess I'm kind of good at that. In fact, from what my friends keep telling me, I tend to focus on everything I do wrong a lot. But, because I am me, a recovering perfectionist and a rather hurt soul, I see what I do wrong a lot more than I see what I do right.

And for me, because I know I struggle with pride, it feels a lot safer to focus on everything about me that I hate, that I don't like or that I do wrong than what I like about myself and what I do right. I know that it seems rather stupid, but it makes sense in my mind. Plus, after years upon years of doing it, it's become a habit.

And of course other thoughts revolve in my head about this, but I'm pretty sure you don't want to read them. Knowing and commiserating with my struggle is one thing. Hearing about it constantly, without any hope of resolution, of any healing or end? Well, who'd want to read about that?

Ironically, I was taught a truth about myself from the most unlikely place: Grumpy the dwarf. In the show Once Upon A Time, he says to Snow White that pain is important. Rather than take anything that could make him forget, he'd rather hold on to the pain. It made him who he was, became a part of his character. it made him Grumpy.

Now, I'm not saying being a grumpy person is a good thing! Been there, done that, looking for a lighter so I can burn the T-shirt. But the fact is that we "walking wounded," as Henri Nouwen might put it, are wounded healers. We know pain, we know hurt, and because of that we know how to help others with the pain. We know the pain. We know the deep, deep hurt. We wounded healers know the how deep the depths of despair can be. We know the feelings of hopelessness, so we know how to give hope. We see where people are, and we can show them the light by which we see so they can leave the pits, the valleys of Death's enormous shadows.

Now that may seem like wishful thinking on my part, but I know this to be true. Not that I have helped others, but because I have been helped by others. Others who have gone through the same things. And others who have found ways out of the pain of failure. People who have found victory.

These people have led me to Christ. He, who is the Ultimate Wounded Healer, knows the pain of despair. He knows what it feels like to lose hope. He knows abandonment. But He also knows how to heal those hurts. And it's to Him I point you all. It's Him that I praise, though sometimes my voice falls silent. But even in silence, hope and love are found.

Holy is the Lord, and most worthy of praise.

Healing Anger

Okay, I'm still working on being on time with my posts here again. But I am getting better. Of course, now the problem is putting something amazing into a few words.And then writing it down. not so easy sophomore year as it was during freshman year.

And I know that I've severely fallen behind. But, you know what they say: Life is what happens while you're making plans. Most often in my case, life is what happens when you're making plans, and then you realize a school assignment is due tomorrow morning before 8 AM. So, I guess I'm still working on time management this year. Last year I was great at remembering to post. But I'll get there, eventually.

Yes, I can hear you now: "Nathan, shut up about not posting on time and get to the good stuff!" And so I shall.... Try to, that is.

I'll admit, this issue is somewhat personal. I doubt very many people who read this could empathize with it. This last week, I struggled dealing with anger. Anger at God specifically.

Yes, I know, "Why on earth would I be angry at God? Hasn't he been good to me?" Just look at the rest of my blog posts, and you'll see that answer is yes. But my anger wasn't completely for myself. It was also for my mom.

My mother struggles with many Auto-immune Disorders. This is pretty much where the body attacks itself and causes itself not to work properly. There's no real cure or treatment for it. And it's not like cancer, which quickly becomes life-threatening while many forms have treatments or surgeries to cure them. It's harder, and it takes longer.

Now, this is not at all to belittle cancer. Cancer is the nastiest thing on the planet, and I know people who have had it. It is not small in the slightest. But it is different than what my mom has to go through. And in some ways, it is a little better.

There is not cure or treatment for Multiple Sclerosis or Fibromyalgia. There is no cure for Diabetes. There is no cure for Celiac's Disease. Instead, my mom has to diligently watch her diet. She has to check her blood sugars many times a day and adjust her insulin supply because her body will not regulate itself. And the pain from Multiple Sclerosis (where the immune system gradually attacks and eats away at the nervous system, little by little) and Fibromyalgia (which I'm still working to understand) is constant for her. Some days the pain is minor and she can be a very active person and love people the way I've always known her to. But other days, she can't even get out of bed because the nerve pain in her legs and body is so terrible.

But here at Taylor University, there are ministries for healing. People are supernaturally healed often. A woman is afflicted with migraines and then people pray over her and she gets better. A man injures his liver badly playing football, and then people pray and he's healed as well. I see and hear about this happening and  my heart hurts. Not my soul or spirit (though they hurt too), but my heart. At one point this last week, a friend was sharing about how God had healed him, and while my face never changed, I felt a sharp tear in my chest, as though something ripped inside. And I thought of my mother back in Colorado, who lives with pain every day.

After a year and a half of struggling to push away the nagging thought about the injustice of it all, I just gave up. I withdrew from my friends, convinced they would find out how bad a Christian I was. "Good Christians don't get angry at God," I told myself. And I didn't want people to see me and my pain. I didn't want to be a burden to them, because I was struggling to deal with these problems. I quit talking to God because I didn't think he would answer me. And I tried to pray about others, but at the same time, I still had my mother's pain and anger lurking and sulking in the back of my mind. I couldn't make logical sense of why my powerful God could heal all these people at my school in Indiana, yet seemed like He refused to heal my mother in Colorado.

Now, before you read further, let me tell you something RIGHT NOW: I have no answers. God didn't come down and tell me why He hasn't healed my mother. He didn't tell me His will for her life or the purpose of her suffering. And, since I'm 99.9999999999999999...% (Which in mathematical terms is the same as 100%) sure if my mother had been healed my family would have told me (which they have not), God has not healed my mother.

So what changed? What made a difference? The realization I was not alone. There are people here on campus who do struggle with that same issue. People who even participate in healing ministries have relatives who have similar medical problems. And the best encouragement was hearing their stories.

The conclusion? There is none. I don't have answers. And I know this may sound hollow, but the only thing that keeps me going right now is faith. Faith that God has a purpose to my mother's suffering. Faith that she will be healed, whether or not I get to witness it here on earth. Faith that God is good.

And I now know I'm not alone with this pain, the pain of having my mother live in pain. Yes, I know the rest of my family feels it too, but it doesn't help when they're twenty driving hours and two time zones away. And their pain would be different than mine. Thus hearing other people's stories help me find reason and faith in my anger.

This is not over, not by a long shot. But the anger has abated. And I think this has brought me closer to God. I have to rely on Him, and believe in His purpose, unknown though it be. Of course, the only other option for me is chaos, which is not viable. God is good. I will continue to proclaim it as long as I have breath in my body.

Holy is He and worthy of my praise.