It’s after midnight and I’ve been trying to sleep since 9pm. My thoughts are racing, and reading isn’t helping. These energetic thoughts are the opposite of my daily fatigue. Years of disabling illness have given me a PhD in exhaustion. My night owl husband is still awake, so I ask if we can talk. I describe how frustrated I am with this insomnia, but soon, other emotions come pouring out.  

On the surface is my care and concern for a close friend. Her pain feels so deep and so close, but I can’t do anything to make it better. I feel scared and powerless. After 20 years of marriage, Dave has learned that sometimes I just need him to listen.  He says, “I’m sorry it feels so hard” and lets me keep talking.  After that initial layer was peeled off, I began to process my confusion about yesterday’s doctor’s appointment. I chose to shift my medical plan to a maintenance mode instead of pursuing further expensive treatments which only seem to make me feel worse.  The doctor helped me plan to test which medicines are helping. It went better than I expected, so why am I so sad?  As I articulate this to Dave, it hit me, like a sunbeam through the clouds.  I am grieving because there is no more treatment to try. At this point, my medical team has done everything they can and I am not healthy. I don’t have a terminal diagnosis, but this is the limit of my body’s ability to heal. I thought I would feel relieved, but my symptoms are still here: The exhaustion I feel every morning, no matter how much I have slept, the joint pain and headaches are my life. I weep sharing these feelings of loss. 

As I climb into bed, I realize that the frenetic energy is gone. I feel more peaceful, even though nothing has changed. The connection between my body and my heart is a mystery, but it is worth noticing.  I pray “God, I really appreciate the relief I feel after talking with Dave.  I realize now that I haven’t been sharing my heart with You over the past few days.  I am back to a stoic stuffing routine because I don’t think You want to hear my pain. I’m believing that lie again that my needs are a problem that You don’t want to know about.  I am finally tired, so I need to sleep. Will You help me make time tomorrow to process this with You? Dave’s listening, although precious, doesn’t ever compare to yours. Thank You that he isn’t enough. Help me see that conversation as a bridge to You.”

Although I’ve been a Christian for years, I’ve only been praying this way recently. I’m amazed by people who just want to grow closer to Jesus because I had to learn a new way to relate to Him to stay alive. Two years ago, I lost the health I’d fought for 6 years to find. In 2013, I began experiencing extreme fatigue and low blood pressure. I went from being an active 36 year old to needing a walker. I had frightening hour-long paralysis episodes multiple times a week. Eventually, I was diagnosed with Neurological Lyme disease and a hyper-sensitivity to mold. After 6 years of medical interventions, my health was mostly restored. I was power walking for exercise, teaching part-time and serving in Sojourn Kids. Friends saw me as a miracle. Unfortunately, in the spring of 2021, I experienced a perfect storm of Lyme recurrence, Epstein-Barr, Covid and vaccine complications. 

In addition to the physical loss, God began to feel unsafe. Eventually, I told a friend about my heart numbness and inexplicable anxiety when talking to God. I joined her zoom prayer group which focused on honest prayer and contemplative reading of the Word. I began practicing silence and honest prayer, two minutes at a time. My palms were sweaty just being alone with God, but He helped me press through. Slowly, the more I shared my real heart with Him and the more I replaced my self-talk with His steadfast love, the more I trusted Him again.

I appreciate this perspective on self-examining prayers from Where Prayer Becomes Real (p 146): 

“Jesus has called us to himself, not merely to do what he told us to but to be known by him as we come to know him. Our knowledge of God and our knowledge of ourselves are deeply intertwined realities. To know God entails, Paul tells us, that we are those who have come to be known by him. (Gal 4:9)” 

This examine prayer practice is a great application of Kevin’s recent sermons on self-deception. Pulling back the curtain to let God in makes me feel exposed, but I get the joy of being forgiven and a richer dose of His love. 

The morning after my conversation with Dave, I verbalized the same concerns and more to God.  Then I prayer-processed through a Psalm to see my situation within His steadfast love. As you read this prayer, the word “Selah” is an opportunity to pause and reflect.

An Examine Prayer through Psalm 32

Blessed am I, whose transgressions are forgiven, whose every sin is cleaned by Jesus’ blood.

Blessed am I against whom the LORD counts no iniquity because Jesus bore my punishment. Although there is deceit in me, God looks on Jesus and forgives my tendency to cover my sin with good works. 

For when I tried to hold my life together on my own, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. Oh God, you let me feel the weight of carrying my own burdens, like a two-year-old carrying a suitcase. My strength is zapped like on a humid summer day. I need your strength to carry this life for me.

Selah 

Instead, I bring my sins, sadness, longings for healing and stop trying to cover my iniquity and fear with busyness or escape. I confess my sins to you LORD, and You happily forgive the ways I distorted what was beautiful and good.

Selah

Therefore, I lean on God daily by praying to His constant loving and listening ears. Withholding my true heart from Him is like using my disabled strength to hold back a raging river, instead of daily sharing my stream of needs. Father God, You are a hiding place for me. You preserve me from the insurmountable trouble of punishment for sin. You delightfully shout, “I have delivered you from this one and this one and this one. Look at my beautiful Son’s face. He died to free you from this!”

Selah

God, I feel angry, frustrated, and hurt that You haven’t freed me from the daily trouble of chronic illness.  The symptoms which keep me from living a normal life.  Studying the healings in Luke and Acts highlights my pain and Your choice not to heal me feels mean. I take comfort from Paul’s pleading to remove his thorn in the flesh. (2 Cor 12:7-10) You provide sufficient grace to help me trust you, love others and live. Most of all, when Satan tempts me to believe that You let me suffer because You don’t love me. I remember that Your love for Jesus is perfect, and He suffered more than You will ever ask of me. His pain then makes it so I can talk to you now.

God’s response:

Beth, I know you don’t know how to keep living like this. I really know and perfectly understand. One day, when we stand face to face, I will heal you.  But until that moment, I promise to teach you the way forward. I will always give you a path through. I will counsel you with my eyes of love on you.

Please don’t make this harder on yourself by resisting my guidance like a mule that has to constantly be pulled. He can’t understand that I’m leading him to good things, but you can see that I am for you. Many are the sorrows of hiding in your sin playground and not letting me lead you to healthy places. I will surround you with my steadfast love when you trust me.

Dearest Beth, since all of this is true, try to see the gladness I have for you. Are you tasting the sweetness of trusting me and living as I guide you? I know your situation hasn’t changed but look at the joy I can give you by being forgiven and fully loved as you are!

After this processing prayer, God reminded me of a hike I took with Dave using my power wheelchair. This was the only paved trail in Red River Gorge, and I was disappointed that large sections were washed out. I was ready to turn back, but Dave was determined for me to see the view. So, he helped me to a stump, lifted my wheelchair down the rocky section and then came back up the hill to walk me down. Although I hate the way my illness makes me dependent; God often uses my limitations to remind me that His goal for me isn’t independence. God is eager for me to share my sins, temptations, sorrows, longings, and hopes with Him, He is even more delighted to help me than Dave was on the trail.  He knows it will pour beauty into my life to lean on Him during the journey.  His Almighty shoulders were designed to carry my burdens. He knows I am going to struggle with sin, the same way that Dave knows I couldn’t manage the unpaved sections. My sin doesn’t shock Him because He knew it already. He made a path forward through Jesus’ sin-cleansing blood.  My weakness delights Him because He gets glory from my reliance on Him.  He enjoys my dependence because He has made me to be that way. He doesn’t need my help, but He delights when I participate in Kingdom work.  He loves being with me and wants me to enjoy the view with Him (pictured at the top of this page). The peace I feel after processing my heart with Him through prayer is just a glimpse of the joy to come. He has asked me to live in an unhealed body, but He is constantly available to miraculously heal my heart. We get to spend eternity knowing and being known by Him, free from sin, free from conflict and free from sorrow. What a spectacular eternal view that will be!

Beth Mack and her husband Dave have been in Louisville and worshiping at Sojourn East since 2016.  She enjoys hot tea, dark chocolate, historical mysteries, indie Christian music and watching the birds from their deck. She loves long skype calls with her niece Ainsley and laughing until she cries with Dave.  Her favorite moment is sharing her couch so a friend can share her heart.