The Scroll - Part 3

When I was about 26 I had my first non-pediatric follow up appointment. I was having zero problems, but I was overdue to be checked. I went by myself, feeling like a real grown-up. Though I wasn’t worried on the surface, I felt a rush of memories and heard the echoes of those dramatic teenage emotions. In the car on the way to that appointment, a song I had never heard came on the radio in the familiar voice of Peter Furler.

You hold the weight of the world / Still I don't slip through your hands

Your love is bigger than just / A notion built by man

I fall again and again / But You whisper, "You're still mine"

You feel the pain of the world / But You never push mine aside

So many people in this world / But I hear You calling out my name

You reach for me / Now I'm never gonna be the same

You know all of my fears / There's nothing Your eyes can't see

God was reaching down with the reminder I needed. I walked in to the appointment with confidence, and once again I was relieved to know that all my bones were stable. Nothing had changed. That was the best news since the beginning, because stability after seven years is so much more reassuring than stability after three or six months. Even though my spine was in worse shape than the clinic logo, I was given a green light once again. Go live life. No restrictions. Be well.

You can’t pay money for an outcome like that. It was starting to sink in how much I’d been given. My view of those years after the diagnosis began to change. I had not always been a totally ungrateful wretch, but I was a typical teenager. I am more thankful now.

When I am pain free, I am immensely grateful. When I am dealing with pain, I still try to be thankful that it isn’t constant. It isn't out of control. Sometimes I fail outright, and I get discouraged and frustrated. In those times, my voice needs to change from “Why is this happening to me?” to “How am I doing this well?” Or if I read the Internet enough, “Why wasn’t I born dead?” Seriously. There is more right than wrong, or I wouldn't be typing this.

I regret that I had often approached God with a demanding attitude, not just faith. I was disappointed that I didn’t get an instant spine-straightening miracle. Instead I was getting a lesson in patience, and waiting, and recognizing the subtlety and hidden paths of God’s goodness. He does instant miracles, and He does slow ones. Sometimes you can’t isolate a certain day where He made any difference at all, and yet the sum of all the days is a good report. Who can understand how that happens? It's ultimately in His control.

I’m a huge fan of mystery stories, but I had no appreciation for His mysterious handling of my situation. I had thought it would be so awesome to have a before X-ray and an after X-ray, showing how God healed me. That would get people’s attention. That would show them how awesome God is. When (seemingly) nothing happened, I let the idea go without even realizing it. I showed my latest X-ray to a few family members, and they were astounded at shape of my spine. Instead of being able to show off the difference between two X-rays, it still looks terrible, but my health is much better than it should be.


Just recently, a new physical therapist talked me through my medical history with a uniquely heartfelt approach. At the end, he just stared at the papers, and said, “Wow. What a story.” Later in the conversation, he quoted, “We are fearfully and wonderfully made.” He was amazed at the discrepancy between what I could be, and how I am. I could be in terrible health, but I’m not.

An MRI image of my mouth (side view)

It turns out I do have restrictions, and I’m happy to say I found them while trying to live life fully. The asymmetry in my torso has led to more health problems. I would love to end this with “Everything’s fine,” but my story isn’t over yet. As I get older, I'm learning that I’ll have to struggle harder than I’d hoped. On paper, I’m on the verge of needing surgery, but I don’t need it as long as nothing changes. I hope everything goes exactly how I want it to, but there are no guarantees.

I’m not qualified to define what a miracle is or is not, but I am an expert on the mental free-fall zones that we go through when life is uncertain. Some changes mean that you'll never be going back to what Normal used to be. This was one of those. Sometimes you are disoriented and don’t know which way is forward. Sometimes I don’t learn my lessons and I try to tell God how He should run His universe. Every time I find myself there, I question what good could possibly come from suffering. The answer is always, “I don’t know why.”

This is the part of my story where I have to trust God every day of the rest of my life, in sickness and in health. I already know that trusting is not always as easy as it sounds. I might forget. I might fail. I might flounder. And maybe that’s another reason to write this out.

3. For myself.

I might need a reminder to be thankful, and to keep trusting. I might need to fight some of these exact same battles all over again. I’m unperfect and unfinished, and God’s great faithfulness is my story. He is still strong, even if I am weak. He can still do a crazy miracle. He hasn't changed.  He is merciful and compassionate when I am distracted by my circumstances. He doesn’t always give what I want, but He always gives one hundred percent of what I need. He is trustworthy, kind, and good. He holds the scroll of my life in his hands carefully. He writes as an Author in full control, with care and precision, and He will complete it all in His own way.

Here’s a song that will be true for all occasions.

Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!

Morning by morning new mercies I see.

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided.

Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!