Today I awoke in such pain, the mere brushing up of something against my skin hurts. I feel fatigued and the bright light of the sun, the light that I normally savor so richly, bothers my eyes. Joyful sounds, like our dogs barking playfully or music in the street (which on other days remind me of the life that surrounds me, the beauty that sets my feet dancing), is noise to my ears today.
Yet as I lay here in bed on this pre-resurrection Sunday morning, warm heating pad offering relief to aching muscles, my meditation is not on my own plight, my personal pain. I think of the One who bore all of this… all of my suffering and yours, that of every person who has gone before us and each one whose life will follow ours. Completely undeserved, unmerited, horrifying punishment. Borne by the only son of the most holy God. So that I could have life and healing.
Photo by Whitney Rae Hurst
But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace
was on him,
and by his wounds we are healed.
the Bible, Isaiah 53:5
By his wounds, I am healed. Even as I lay here – as I so often have in these 23 years that I have suffered from fibromyalgia. I am healed.
What a beautiful mystery. What a glorious gift from a Father who knows me so intimately and cares for every aspect of my being so lovingly. I don’t pretend to understand it. And while God’s Word tells me that I have the mind of Christ, I am certain that His infinite and perfect comprehension of all things would cause my head to explode and my spirit to falter, should I glimpse it and grasp it in its totality.
I have been a witness as God instantaneously healed people of crippling illness or disease. I’ve seen Him restore the mentally tormented and the crushed spirit, give back hope to the destitute. I’ve experienced His perfectly inexplainable provision in moments of extreme lack and His tender comfort when I am broken and mourning. All of this heals me. His incredible grace and mercy and goodness, poured out so extravagantly over and over in my life, not because of what I do but because I am His, heals me. Since I came to know Jesus, the One who not only was wounded so I might be healed, but was also resurrected from death that I too might experience resurrection from my deadness, I am daily, constantly, perceptibly being healed and restored. In my body, my mind, my spirit, my soul.
Photo by Whitney Rae Hurst
And although I continue to suffer in each of these spheres of my being, I trust completely in His work within me, within you. Not one of us has yet been made completely perfect. But because of Jesus’ sacrifice, that great privilege of transformation to wholeness was purchased for every one of us. As we look to Him, trust in Him, submit to Him, we are healed. We are transformed. We are more whole with every day.
While I don’t understand why my body has not yet come into its complete healing, I know that this great gift is mine because I am His. And at the end of the day, THIS is my boasting. Not what I have obtained or grasped, but simply that I AM HIS. And therefore, I am complete.
Today, as every day, I celebrate this new life: life purchased for me with a price so outrageous, so unfathomable, so incredibly precious. Whether I dance in the sunlight, music blaring around me or I lay quietly in my bed, I will always praise Him. I will always be grateful. Every ounce of my being groans for Jesus. He is healing. He is all I need.