Molding the Impossible

“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.

Freedom Keeper

This morning I put on a bracelet that has the words Set Free etched on it. I’ve had the bracelet for a year, but I saw it differently this morning. Since returning to Alaska for the summer, I’ve been blessed with a truck load of memories- both good and bad. Today, as I fingered that bracelet, I remembered the days when its message was a lie. I remember the days I wore a different bracelet.

Four and a half years ago, I was in Bondage to a man in my life. I can say that now but at the time, I didn’t dare admit it. He made himself a chain bracelet that I found intriguing. He made me one and gave it to me with the words, “You’re mine.” I romanticized his declaration because I wanted to believe it was okay. Back then, I never made the correlation to the man’s “gift” and his attitude towards me. I wanted to believe that I belonged… But I didn’t.

What was at first a silly game with a metaphorical fire soon became a living death sentence. Remembering my Savior-given Spirit freedom was just that- a distant memory. As the weeks went by, I often toyed with the chain bracelet and attempted to convince myself I was loved. It worked. It didn’t work very long.

When God pulled me out of that relational prison, I kept the bracelet. The bracelet could only come off if I pulled with all my might and broke the chains, but I couldn’t. Breaking those chains meant that I could no longer live in the past. Breaking those chains meant I had to agree with God that moving on from my wounds was painfully beautiful.

It took me right around three months to pull the bracelet off my wrist. I cried tears of sorrow because of the emotional scars that now had to heal. I cried tears of victorious, God-given relief because I was visibly telling God I didn’t want bondage anymore. The chains around my wrist were gone, now it was His turn to release the chains around my heart.

That was four and a half years ago. Today I put on the bracelet that declared my freedom. The bracelet is secured by a slipknot, which makes my heart sing, but also firmly warns me of truth.

I may be free, but the second I want to take my freedom off, I can. The question is, can I trust God enough to let Him be the keeper of my freedom.