Ceeeeeeeeelebrate Good Times, Come On!

Have you ever read 1 Corinthians 12:21-26?  I never had, but I recently did.  My study of Romans took me there.  If you’ve never done a Bible study before, you should know this before you start one.  There is a boat load of page turning in a Bible study.  When you sign up to study Romans, don’t go thinking you’ll be all sacked out and staying put in Romans, Romans, Romans for the next nine months of your life.  You might have signed up to study Romans, but you will be instructed to read six-hundred verses on four –hundred different pages in three dozen other books of the Bible.  Your study of Romans will have you looking up things you didn’t even know could relate to Paul, and yet somehow, they will.  God is pretty cool like that.  He can make things that don’t make any sense, make perfect sense.


So I read 1 Corinthians 12:21-26 and I’m pretty . . . okay absolutely . . . certain God wrote it for me when he decided I was going to get myself a brand new semi-colon at the end of 2013.  Why he felt the need to speak truth to me through thoughts of internal body parts, let alone the ones that do what colons do, I might never fully understand, but he got my attention. 


These verses are about parts of the body, and the truth is, God is talking about the body of Christ, not my large intestine.  He is reminding us that everyone plays a role in sharing the love of Jesus.  We are all important and relevant and necessary to grow God’s kingdom. 


If I had read these verses a few months earlier, I would have stopped there.  I would have enjoyed and accepted their reminder to cherish all people, because everyone has indescribable value and infinite worth.  We all need each other because our Creator provided us all with different gifts, and by working together, we can glorify Him.  


The thing is, I didn’t read the verses a few months earlier.  I read them less than two months after major surgery, and they took on a completely different meaning.  If I truly believe God is in the details of my life, then I have to believe he planned that particular detail.


Verse 26 says, ‘If one part suffers, every part suffers with it.’


My friends, I now know that to be true. 


After surgery, my stomach hurt, my incisions throbbed, my back ached.  There was a lot of discomfort sitting down, even more when I managed to move. Everything was uncomfortable – standing, sleeping, showering, sneezing – holy cow was sneezing almost the death of me.  There was constant pain.  There was suffering.


Please know that I realize my suffering was small compared to what so many have been through or are going through.  My pain was temporary and minimal.  It was first world pain.  No children were starving, no little girls being sexually assaulted, no young men being gunned down.  I was suffering in a warm home, heated, furnished, and filled with every necessity (and a whole lot of other stuff).  I was suffering with my family safely by my side and any medicine I needed at my disposal, while friends delivered food and gifts.  In all honesty, ‘suffering’ is totally NOT the right word for what I was doing.    


Still, I learned an important lesson during my “sort of suffering.”  I learned that God was right when he said, ‘If one part suffers, the other parts suffer with it,’ because y’all, my colon might have been the source of my pain, but it was my head that needed the healing.


I wasn’t created to be sedentary.  I’m not cut out for giving up my independence.  I’m addicted to guilt, and relying on others to do so many of the things I usually do on my own threw my addiction into overdrive.  And so, while my incisions got better by the day, my mind became more muddled by the minute.


The world looked blue.  Everything seemed like work.  Life felt incredibly hard.


I’ve never been diagnosed with depression, though I feel certain I had a touch of it after Charlie was born.  It didn’t last long – his smiles somehow brought back my own – but I remember those incessant, dark nights in the weeks after his birth, awake and alone at all hours, the tears falling as I longed for a hope I couldn’t seem to find.


That hopelessness appeared again after my recent surgery, uninvited and unwelcome, and it changed me.  I will never again underestimate the strength of anyone who suffers from a chronic illness or is struggling though a lengthy recovery.  And I will never again doubt the power that is in the body of Christ, because in the end, it came back to that after all. 


Leave it to the author of life to write just the words to make me understand, and to lead me to those words in his ever perfect timing.


It took a diversion into my own circumstances to make 1 Corinthians 12:21-26 settle into my heart and stay there, but I’m glad for it.  My depression went away on its own, and I’m glad for that too.  But as I face new circumstances in my life that might send people I love into their own depths of pain, I know without a doubt, the body of Christ is alive and well and full of mercy. 


There are stories everywhere about people all over the world making a difference, and there are people right here in my own community who are willing to do the same.  There are so many amazing people making up the body of Christ.  People who have been given spiritual gifts and are obedient to use them to help others.  All our gifts are equally valuable.  They are gifts of grace used to ready God’s people for service.  They are not meant to compete, but to complement one another, so the body of Christ may be built up as a unified force - one capable of doing the greatest of things for the least of these.


It took a new semi-colon to help me fully understand this truth.  Hey, sometimes God has to knock you over the head to shove you into the light.  Or, in my case, he had to let me experience the super fun phenomenon of phantom poop.  (Call me for the exciting explanation if it doesn’t come up on Google!)


You see, when my body wasn't 100%, my head couldn't function at its best either.  The body works as a team - each part doing it's job to accomplish a goal - and so must the body of Christ.  Mind and body are always related, just as human beings must always be relational.


We are meant to suffer with one another.  We are meant to suffer for one another.  And as Verse 26 continues . . .


If one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.


Don't you love how God often saves the best for last? 


If one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.


Yep.


We are meant to celebrate together too.


I can't wait for that part!!!
 

What Shines After Surgery

Recovery is a blast, y’all, lemme tell ya.  Not sure what made me think I was going to be some grand exception to the six week recovery rule for major colon surgery, but my growing frustration as life passes me by has made it very clear that I thought I would be and . . .


I’m not.

When the doctor says it takes six weeks to recover from colon surgery, he means every day of the entire six weeks.  As in, over forty days.  As in, you will feel uncomfortable and swollen and tired and completely unlike yourself for a whole month and a half no matter how many times you pray to feel better.

Today, I’m almost four weeks into my six weeks of recovery, and so far, I HATE my new semicolon.

Three hours of surgery is a lot.  I guess I get that.  Six incisions is a lot.  I totally get that.  Trust me, every time I try to move even an inch in any direction, I get that. 

I’ve gotten used to the dull ache in my lower abdomen and not wearing anything but pajama and workout pants because my jeans still won’t fit.  I now know the nausea comes and goes, and when I stand up, I should always brace myself for a wave of lightheadedness.  I’ve even given up on staying awake past my children or sleeping in past 4:30 am, because when you can’t keep your eyes open for one second longer and have to go to bed before eight o’clock every night, your body tells you to wake up hours before the sun every morning.  You know, so you don’t get bedsores.  At least the night sweats have stopped . . . most of the time.

I feel quite certain God wants me to use this period of recovery for some purpose I won’t understand for a very long time, if ever.  I can hear him calling me to be still, and friends, it isn’t hard to obey when my body is saying it can’t budge from the chair to do anything.  Besides, 'Property Brothers' is on and this body needs to see the finished renovations Drew and Jonathan made to that horrible house with that couple's generous budget.

The problem with being still is . . . I HATE being still.  Inactivity and me have never gotten along.  I’m not a napper, not even a rester.  I never used to watch TV during the day.  Ever.  Usually, I stand up to eat meals and read emails because, hey, I might need to rush off to do something in between bites and replies and you can’t rush when you’re sitting down.  Stillness feels stifling to me.  I’m not made to be sedentary.  I miss my workouts.  I miss bounding up the stairs and running around in the backyard with the puppy and driving my kids all over town for their activities. 

I miss my productivity. 

And while I am making progress, and my almost healed incisions have allowed for increased mobility that has done wonders for my mental state this week, I have had many moments of dark in this time of recovery.  I have felt depression lurking, its blackness silently creeping up behind me, threatening to settle in all around.

Thankfully, I know the One who drives away all the dark with His light.  And I know those who love Him, and who have loved me because of it.

I have not caught up on my reading during my recovery, as I hoped.  I have not watched every episode of 'Downton Abbey,' as suggested.  I haven’t learned to appreciate an entire afternoon spent relaxing in front of the television, even if a 'Love It or List It' marathon is on.  

No, I have not discovered the joys of rest and stillness.  But I have witnessed a community of people serving Christ through serving me, and I WILL NEVER FORGET IT.

I will never forget the calls and texts and cards and emails they sent.  I will never forget the flowers and gifts and games and goodies they brought.  I will never forget their visits – the way they uplifted me with hugs and smiles and kind words when the pain was constant and the dark was closing in.  I will never forget the support they provided – hosting my children for play dates and driving them where they needed to go.  I will never forget the meals they prepared.  They have fed my family . . . for weeks they have fed my family when I could not . . . and in turn, they have fed my soul.

My semicolon totally stinks, but my people . . .

My people are AMAZING!!!  They are Jesus at work and faith in action and love in the world.  And for me, they are light.  They are the brightest lights of hope and comfort and friendship, and their choice to be the hands and feet of Christ for me and my family have kept the dark away.  I will be forever grateful.