“Hear, O Lord, and be gracious to me; O Lord, be my helper.”  You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;  You have loosed my sackcloth and girded me with gladness,  that my soul may sing praise to You and not be silent.  O Lord my God, I will give thanks to You forever. Psalm 30:10-12

Twenty-five years ago, my life was turned upside down by chronic illness. I couldn’t eat, pain was intense and there seemed to be no answers. As the list of things that I couldn’t eat grew and my weight diminished to the point that co-workers were commenting with concern, my hope also waned. Without hope, I became frustrated and short tempered. Normal kept changing and for two years there were no answers. When a diagnosis finally came, it didn’t really answer the questions. My disease is rare and there are no real treatment plans. I could not bear the thought of living with the pain. Nor could I bear the thought of how my illness and inability to cope was affecting my wife and young children. To say that I was in mourning would be an understatement.
I struggled to reconcile my current circumstances with what I had been taught about God and His love for us. Where was all of the goodness promised to those who love God? How could God expect me to endure this pain indefinitely? While sympathetic to my condition, the Christians in my life provided no spiritual counsel. All of the attention was on my physical symptoms, but my soul did not appear to be on anyone’s radar.
For 12 years I wallowed. A change in churches helped. While not directly related to illness, a lot of truth was being poured into my life and my soul began to stir. Finally, I was forced to end my career as a CPA. It was then that I began facilitating a support group for the chronically ill. Truth related to my illness began to flood in. God had not abandoned me, but had been patiently laying the ground work to revive me…to move me from religion and legalism to a relationship with Him. He gave me a different perspective and began to restore my hope. He was, in fact, turning my mourning to dancing.
There were different aspects of change. One aspect was the redefining terms. For example good was no longer what made me happy, but what drew me closer to God and blessing became more related to my soul than physical comfort…not that the two can’t come together. There was also the redefining of my purpose in life. It wasn’t until my career was out of the way that I began to grasp the concept that the real goal in life is to “glorify God and enjoy Him”. It wasn’t about my objectives, but God’s plan…how He would use me as His vessel. Roman 8:28 and Romans 5:1-5 became real and vivid. Finally, there is a change in perspective. Call it a choice, call it spin or use whatever term you prefer, but in the end we either live for the moment or we live for eternity. I’m giving it my best to live with an eternal perspective.
My sorrow has truly been turned to dancing. It does not mean that I have been perfected, that I have all of the answers or that I am happy all of the time. What it does mean is that I face the difficulties of my disease and life with a hope that I did not previously enjoy. Tough circumstances are still a challenge and life is not always comfortable, but for those of us that trust in our Lord, it is always blessed…whether or not we see it. That is our hope and that is what carries us through the dark days.
Clearly this is an introductory post. Hopefully, for those of you with chronic illness, it provides a point of comradery and mutual understanding. Our pain may be different, but the lessons to be learned and the means of coping are similar. For all, it is a basis and context for future posts. In the end, we are called to be the best we that can be within our circumstances and view all of the events of our lives as an opportunity to glorify God and see how He is working them for good in our lives.
The metaphor I’ve chosen is meaningful in that it is both literal and figurative. My wife and I began taking dance lessons in spite of my illness. It is one thing that still brings joy and a sense of normalcy. The concentration that it takes to lead and move around the dance floor without collision while attempting to properly execute various steps take so much concentration, that I rarely feel the pain in my body while I’m dancing. We aren’t always graceful. We tire, have missteps and stumble, but we keep moving and trying to perfect our form. Similarly, dealing with chronic illness takes effort. Our response to illness is a choice and there are several options. We can sit on the perimeter and wallow. Whether bitter or afraid, the affect is still the same, we merely exist. Another option is to stomp through the dance out of obligation. While we may be moving, there is no grace and there certainly is no joy. It is purely obligatory and nothing glorious about it. Finally, we can accept our circumstances and fix our focus on God’s eternal plan rather than our immediate circumstances. In so doing, we move with hope, with joy and with grace and are a witness to those who watch us. Not only is our spirit lifted, but we encourage others as well.
For those of you who understand this concept and allow it to guide you, let us encourages each other. For those who are raw, hurting and confused, I offer that God has moved me from begging for my life to end to being hopeful and understanding the value of the struggle. If He can do that for me, He can do that for you as well.