My Weird Testimony

‘I’ll pray for your healing,’ smiled the young woman.

‘Actually,’ I smiled back, ‘I think God has told me he’s not going to heal me.’

The woman frowned. ‘That’s not the God I know. My God would never deny me healing.’

‘OK, let me tell you my weird testimony…’

In the not-too-distant past, I was at a book signing, talking to a customer about chronic illness. The conversation quickly turned to my weird testimony of not being healed. It’s weird because most testimonies are about getting better, not about not getting better. But I’ve always been a little weird, so…there’s that.

Anyway, in the past I have asked God to heal me of lupus a few times and not received an answer. But one day God did answer me. I was in a beautiful worship service and I asked him yet again if he would heal me, and this time, I heard a clear ‘No.’

I was like, ‘OK, not the answer I was looking for.’ Then God, who often chooses not to explain himself, actually went on: ‘The usual testimony is that a person gets sick and I heal them. But that is not going to be your testimony. Your testimony will be that you got sick, and I didn’t heal you, and you continued to worship me even in the heights of illness.’

I was floored. To be brutally honest, I was annoyed. Surely God wants to heal everybody? But as his words sank in, I realised that I had been working under the assumption that there was only one kind of testimony: healing. God was trying to show me that his glory and wonders go beyond healing; that worship in the midst of suffering could be a whole other kind of testimony.

Weird, huh?

I had been working under the assumption that there was only one kind of testimony: healing.

Since that day, I have had multiple times of acute illness present themselves as opportunities to worship God. Some days that’s been hard though. That’s when I’ve sensed the Spirit whisper, ‘Will you worship me, even now?’ I’ve remembered his words and my weird testimony. I’ve sighed, and remembered him, and smiled. I’ve been able to worship him, even in silence.

There have been times when I’ve been worship leading at church in the throes of illness. At times I’ve been unsure if I can stand. Even sitting has felt like a big ask. As the church has prayed for me, and as I’ve surrendered yet again to the weird testimony and leaned rather heavily on God’s grace, he’s lifted me. He’s given me the capacity to worship him. I’ve collapsed again afterwards, but God has filled my empty shell of a person with his whole, good self. And people have seen it and praised God.

That’s my testimony. Not of a triumphant champion. Not of an inspirational hero. Of a jar of clay, useless and hopeless, filled with the magnificent grace of God to be poured out for others. It’s weird, but it’s true.

I love these unusual types of testimonies. I have heard I’m-still-sick-but-I’m-hanging-on-to-God-by-a-thread testimonies, God-is-with-me-when-everything-falls-apart testimonies, and God-is-healing-me-on-the-inside testimonies. I’ve got My-writing-has-helped-others testimonies, I’ve-been-forced-to-rest-by-illness testimonies, and God-gave-me-strength-for-today testimonies. All beautiful, valid testimonies. Surely they have just as much of a place in our churches as the healing testimonies.

When people tell me to hold out for healing or that they’re praying for a miracle for me, part of me is grateful. It tells me that they love me, and that’s always a good thing. At the same time, another part of me remembers that I’ve been made a little weird, and I tell them my testimony. I hope it helps others who may find themselves in the same predicament as me.

One day God may change his mind and heal me. Or he may not. That’s entirely his business. My business is getting on with what he has given me to do just for today: to write, share my testimony, and worship him. Oh, and lean on his grace—which is more than enough.

Have you ever prayed for healing that hasn’t happened? How did you cope with that? Could God be leading you in a different direction—perhaps giving you an unusual testimony? Share your story. Let’s have a countercultural conversation.