‘How are you feeling?’ my friend asked as I walked into church.
I jiggled a pair of dice in my head. When you live with a chronic illness, innocent queries after your health can backfire quickly. Well-meaning people can pray for healing that is not forthcoming, or I can get caught in a web of non-stop questions or irrelevant pseudo-medical advice. These fears are not irrational.
But this lady was friendly and she seemed genuinely caring. So I rolled the dice.
‘Not so good. In fact, I think my illness is flaring up.’
‘What kind of illness do you have?’ Concern was written all over her face.
I took a deep breath. My illness is not well understood. In fact, it is frequently misunderstood. Usually I have to give a comprehensive explanation to avoid this.
I rolled the dice again. ‘Uh, well, I’ve been diagnosed with lupus.’
‘Ah!’ She nodded. ‘We need to pray for your healing!’
I cringed. ‘No, thanks.’ Her face fell. ‘I actually believe God’s told me he won’t heal me. But thanks for caring…’
Navigating questions about health and offers of prayer can be tricky. It’s nice that people care. I do appreciate the offers of prayer. It’s just that historically, people have laid hands on me, prayed for miracles, even declared my sin on my behalf, without my consent. Not only is it uncool, but on a bad faith day it can have me questioning my standing before God.
Why are they confessing sin I don’t know about?
Have I sinned and not realised it?
Is that why God hasn’t healed me?
Maybe if I had more faith, God would heal me.
Is God even listening? Does God care?
Plus, prayers that result in no healing are awkward. The absence of healing reflects badly not just on me and my spiritual temperature, but the spirituality of those who inflict—I mean, impart—prayer on me. It’s embarrassing to pray fervently for someone and see them get no better at all. It’s also embarrassing for me as the prayee to tell the prayers every single time that I don’t feel better. Because they always ask.
Makes me look like a pretty bad advert for God.
In all my years of praying and receiving prayers for healing, God has never healed me of lupus. Furthermore, he’s told me he won’t heal me because my testimony will be to worship him in the midst of illness. I don’t think it means God doesn’t love me. I don’t think it’s a reflection of my faith. It’s definitely not anything to do with some secret, forgotten sin buried in the deep recesses of my mind.
Sometimes God doesn’t want to heal us, not because he doesn’t care but because maybe something else is going on. I’ve experienced the following reasons for non-healing:
– I’ve done it to myself and have to live with the consequences.
– I’ve become so run down that my body is forcing me to stop.
– It’s flu season and it happens to everybody.
– I’m alive, ageing, and interacting with an imperfect environment.
– Others have inflicted pain or viruses upon me.
– God is teaching me about being still and waiting on him.
– God is not teaching me anything—it’s part of being alive.
– God wants me to worship him in the heights of illness—and that’s my testimony.
– God is taking me deeper into the place where only his grace can sustain me.
– The agony I endure gives me a special empathy for others enduring their own unique brand of agony.
– I’m able to channel my lived experience into my writing so others know they’re not alone.
– Some medical stuff is genetic.
Being sick or disabled doesn’t make me a bad Christian. I’m not an advert for God either. That spiritual paranoia is enough to drive anyone up the wall. But I am his child, his Beloved, as welcome in his family as the most abled person standing next to me. And so are you.
Have you had many experiences of people praying for your healing? What has that been like for you: helpful, unhelpful, weird, comforting, depressing? How does it affect you if you don’t get healed? Share your story. Let’s have a countercultural conversation.
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