“Epilepsy makes me appreciate life.”
I’ve said that for over 12 years now. And even when I was seizing so much I was zombified, I meant it. Every blasted time. I clung to my epilepsy because, through the worst if it, I gained an appreciation over the most mundane things. It was through epilepsy I didn’t have to pray to see God, but I had to work on seeking Him.
Epilepsy became my spiritual mountain top. Possible death usually does that for young Christians- just sayin’.
Recently, I actually voiced something brand new about my physical adventures. I boldly let my family know that, “I’ve been through enough- if these symptoms turn into another disease, I’ll scream.”
I was so done with being God’s spiritual endurance guinea pig. I was tired, scared, annoyed and just down right hurt. I thought I had the right to say I was done.
12 years of whispering, “Please Jesus, is today the day you bring me home?” The only answer I’ve ever received is a long-suffering, all-knowing- “No. Not yet.”
As I walked to my room that night, I mulled over what I’d said. Was I really that proud? Did I really think I had served enough to be the only human that nudges God and says, “You can’t do this to me, you can’t allow this, either”? Do I really think I’m the only human God obeys?
My pain level right now is through the roof. My ability to focus on anything for very long is almost nil. My body tells me I need to stop trying so hard. My stubbornness tells my body to shut up. My heart and fear are caught in the middle.
Am I done? Can I say “no” to one more thing?
John 9 is a passage I cling to with all my heart. Jesus is presented with a man born blind; a man who has an ailment he did not cause. When asked why the man was born blind, Jesus replied that it was so God’s power could be seen through him.
If my disorders get worse, I can only dare to believe that it is because God has not been seen in my life enough. That thought alone is enough to make me laugh and live through another day.
He wants to use me… The joker in His court?
Bring it on. I don’t feel ready, but then again, I never do.
Dear God, teach me to laugh anyway.