Dancing with Jesus

The LORD said, “I have surely seen the affliction of my people and have heard their cry ... I know their sufferings.”  Exodus 3:7

“Hope sees a crown in reserve, mansions in readiness, and Jesus himself preparing a place for us, and sustains the soul under the sorrows of the hour. Hope is the grand anchor by whose means we ride out the present storm.”  ~ Charles Spurgeon, “The Holy Spirit’s Intercession, 1880

I stood up in a dear friend’s wedding last weekend.  We met when we were 17, at a Christian camp, and vowed to be each other’s bridesmaids someday.  She was an attendant at our wedding in Michigan; 13 years later, I returned the gesture.  My daughter -- her god daughter -- wore a stunning white dress and walked down the aisle before the radiant bride. I remember feeling a special connection in hearing the marriage vows, “in sickness and in health” once again. The wedding was gorgeous and Jesus was so very present, but it was also exhausting, and included an emotionally heart-wrenching and confusing conversation with a kindred spirit.  At the reception, the groom danced with his stepmom and aunts to Garth Brook’s song, “The Dance,” in honor of his mother who passed away when he was a teenager.  A very confident, masculine groom turned tender as the memories and tears spilled down his face in front of 150 guests. The entire room filled with emotion and my own dinner napkin became soaked in tears and makeup.

Little did I know, the very next week I would be overcome by a torrent of stress and incessant physical pain.  It resulted in 2 ER visits; 2 trips to my primary physician; 1 appointment with a GI specialist; and a separate hospital procedure -- all in 6 days.  I lost nearly 20 pounds, and not the healthy way.  This setback came on the long heels of 3 years of fibromyalgia, 5 bouts of pancreatitis, and migraines stretching back to elementary school, plus anxiety and depression often associated with chronic conditions.  These struggles brought back emotional wounds connected to getting sick on the mission field, causing us to come back early.  Compounding these issues, the timing came when my husband had pressing responsibilities at work.  Fears about medical bills began to creep in.  Pill bottles filled my purse and kitchen counter.  Needless to say, I felt torn down physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  I longed to do “normal” things I took for granted every day -- go to the gym, snuggle and read with my children, walk with a beloved friend.  I couldn’t even get comfortable enough to watch TV!  Sometimes, I just lay prostrate on my bedroom floor and cried, “Jesus, I need you,” trusting in Romans 8:27 that the Holy Spirit would intercede even in my wordless groans.  In many ways, I was beginning to feel like a shell of the vibrant woman that God had created.  So sick of being sick!  It's hard to explain to someone who's never gone through something like this, and I became somewhat withdrawn, even from the people I love.  While I would never willingly leave my family, I began to relate to those who take their own life while in despair.  I felt trapped in a storm spinning beyond my control, desperate for a rainbow of hope.  Who would ever want to experience that?

Then God reminded me of the lyrics to that song I’d heard at the wedding ... “For a moment, all the world was right ... I could have missed the pain, but I would have had to miss the dance.”  I began to think about how the Lord provided for and blessed our family during my illness.  He placed an ER nurse at church to talk to during my first day of intense pain, and another church member who checked me into the hospital.  When I told her my pain level was at 9 and I was feeling ready to be with Jesus, she smiled brightly and said, "Not on my watch!"  A recent acquaintance recovering from her own brokenness stepped out of service to hold my hand and pray for me.  I couldn’t even sing that morning, but I sat there, soaking in the worship.  My Christian doctor, also an elder at our church, held both David and my hands and asked the Great Physician for guidance.  

Our neighbor brought us dinner repeatedly.  A single mom with 3 young kids of her own took ours in the evenings after she got home from long days of work.  A kind and generous friend took my children to the dentist!  A godly woman drove 30 minutes each way to take my daughters to and from horse camp.  People took the kids to baseball games, fed them lunch, and gave them rides to archery practice.  My son’s classmate down the block gave him an open invitation to their home.  Church members brought me vitamin and electrolyte water, the only things I could keep down.  Folks saw me at my worst, and came anyway.  Some days I hadn't even brushed my teeth.

My mom called to share a verse God had given her in devotions that morning from Psalm 45: 

Hear, O daughter, and consider, and incline your ear:
the King will desire your beauty.
Since He is your Lord, bow to him.
All glorious is the princess in her chamber, with robes interwoven with gold.
In many-colored robes she is led to the King with joy and gladness

Tissues piled up on the coffee table as I pictured myself a daughter of King Jesus, entering His palace, healthy, whole, and dancing in His presence.

My sister sent me the following note that deeply touched my spirit: “I wish I could put a shield around you and protect you from internal and external struggles.  I see your bright smile in my mind from days gone by, and I pray for the joy of your youth to be restored to you.  I love and respect you for reaching out.  My arms are outstretched across the miles to you, and your tears are my own.”  Another friend texted, “Jesus is redeeming your tears and pain.  Be very strong and courageous, for the Lord is with you fighting this battle.”  One introverted Christian sister called and simply exclaimed passionately, “Vanessa, I love you!”  My phone "blew up" with texts and email inbox flooded with heartfelt thoughts and meaningful prayers.  I also now connected more deeply with others who suffer from chronic ailments.

I thought a lot about Haley Chico, the young woman at my church who was undergoing intensive surgery for over a decade of debilitating and severe illness.  My struggle seemed light compared to hers, but it helped me to think of her and pray for her through my own pain.  At night, when I couldn’t sleep, my mind replayed the words of a Fernando Ortega song (“Jesus, King of Angels”) she had sung so poignantly at church just weeks before.

My pastors came to talk, and pray over me.  My worship pastor, Burress, brought me a CD he had recorded.  “Take out the liner notes and look at the first song,” he said.  “To Vanessa,” it read, with the title, “Standing on Strength.”  My voice broke as I read the words he’d written nearly a decade ago to another woman of the same name:

Looking westward at the edge of hope and fear
Counting on grace now, not sure of what, not sure of anything but Him
I close my eyes and try not to close my mind
I’m trying so hard to search, but still so scared of what You’ll have me find
So broken down, so broken in, so broken by this place I’m in
But I’m learning now, You’re leading on, I’m leaning in but I don’t feel so strong
But You’re my hope; and You’re my stay
So I’m standing on strength
Pushing forward at the cost of tears
I’m holding out against my own fight
Pushing past my tight-gripped failings, hoping what I know is right
And the face of love is holding me
And molding me to what I’m bound to be
And the grace of God keeps remembering
And moving toward me with the weight of glory and waiting for me so patiently

As I listened to that song countless times over the next several days, I felt God breathing fresh hope on me.

I also experienced the beauty of the diversity of the body of Christ.  A dear Uruguayan sister in Christ came to my house and prayed for me in Spanish.  I understood parts of it -- “Sangria de Jesucristo, mujer, cuerpo” (blood of Jesus, woman, body).  Even though I didn’t comprehend it all, it was one of the most glorious prayers I’ve ever heard.  It reminded me again of the throne room of Jesus and Revelation 7:9 - “I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb." A lady from church came by to pray, even though her son had recently been arrested and she was in the midst of her own suffering.  A Catholic acquaintance sent me an encouraging note in the mail.  A kind Mennonite family watched my children for an entire day.  An African American friend anointed me with oil, proclaiming “BY HIS STRIPES YOU ARE HEALED!”  As I listened to her Holy Ghost prayer (out of my Presbyterian comfort zone), God showed me the depth of a bond in Jesus that transcends denomination.

I was scheduled to host a mom’s Bible Study, and I decided not to cancel it, to give me something to distract from the discomfort and be surrounded with fellowship.  My heart soared higher than any pain killer when those amazing women walked in my door.  We sat on my couch, talked about mothering, each with our own challenges but all desiring to raise up the next generation of godly children.

The next evening I attended a VBS meeting at church.  Some thought I was crazy, but I felt I needed to be in God’s house, and it gave me peace.  The director called up my 11-year old to help lead a lively theme song, “We Will Stand Strong.”  I was blessed beyond measure by her smile and joyful spirit in the Lord.

A new church friend texted that she’d made some cookies for our family, so I stopped by.  I’d never been to her house and had only met her husband briefly.  They came out on the porch, and for the better part of an hour we laughed and shared as fireflies lit up the night sky -- the fellowship of believers at its peak.  Later, a young mom for whom I’d been praying called to ask me to mentor her, which filled my heart to overflowing.  Even in my weakness, I could see the Lord working through me.  

My immediate family expressed God’s grace to me as well.  When I arrived home from an appointment, I pulled into a driveway that read, “Hope you feel better soon, Mom!  Love, Christina” in giant yellow and pink sidewalk chalk.  The note was surrounded by swirling hearts from my precious 7-year old.  She showed me a Bible puzzle she'd solved recently that read, "Gather up your courage."  Another morning, my 9-year old son stopped his swiffing chore to crawl up on the bed with me while I lay in a fetal position.  “Can I pray with you, Mom?” asked my sweet, sensitive boy.  My eldest daughter took over mothering roles for the younger children when I simply couldn’t do it.  My feisty 3-year old prayed spontaneously in the car: "Help Mommy to get 'strongness' and grow closer to God."  My godly husband tenderly held my hand while nurses and doctors poked, prodded, and scanned.  Later, he made it possible for me to take long, hot epsom-salt bubble baths listening to worship music that refreshed my soul.  The "random" Pandora selection seemed like every song had been written distinctly for me.  The hymns of old that I’d sung hundreds of times became a cleansing balm like never before.  As Dave and I clung to each other through the desperate times, God wove our hearts together even closer in that beautiful picture of Christ and His bride.

The most significant experience, though, involves my personal relationship with Jesus.  For a long time, I think I’d been somewhat angry at God.  While still a believer, my heart became partially closed.  I no longer pursued time with Him like I once did.  Through this awful experience, He lovingly wooed me back to Him.  It was like He wanted me to go through a period of fasting and prayer, and since I didn’t hear His voice, He orchestrated events to make that happen.  It reminds me of what C.S. Lewis said, “"God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." (The Problem of Pain, 1940).  Or, as my dad says in simpler terms, "Sometimes you have to hit rock bottom before you look Up."  

“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ,” says Paul in Galatians 6:2.  Though I’d much rather be the one to carry another’s burdens, Jesus showed me that sometimes He wants me in that humble, needy place.  I see myself as a capable woman and prefer to operate out of a position of strength, so this made me feel dependent and completely out of my element.  A favorite Rich Mullins lyric resonated richly in my spirit, “We are not as strong as we think we are.”  It’s a difficult thing to be vulnerable and let people enter into my brokenness.  But God wants to mature others by allowing them to minister to me.  As a southern black woman once said to me with sincere conviction, “Honey, don’t block my blessing!”  Our family had been desiring deeper community -- “to know and be known” -- and in His providence, God allowed my UNdoing to bring it.  

As this grueling week winds to an end, I think back to that Garth Brooks song at the wedding.  Yes, I could have missed the pain.  God is sovereign and could have prevented it.  But I’d have missed the golden dance of grace that was waiting for me through the storm at the other side of the rainbow.

“Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!” Psalm 126:5

~ I would like to thank my David, sister Janna, and Mom and Dad; for their listening ear and editing skills. I also appreciate the following musicians for their inspiration while writing this: Burress McCombe, Indelible Grace, All Sons & Daughters. 

*While preparing to post this blog, my hubby called to tell me to go outside and turn my gaze toward the east.  A perfect, giant rainbow stretched across the sky in full glory!  Tears welled up in my eyes once again as I reflected upon this eternal promise of hope.  “I love you, my child,” Jesus said to my heart.  “Come to Me and rest.  My yolk is easy; My burden is light.  And I have an inheritance of gold and rainbows beyond your imagination waiting for you.”*