Facing a prison that will statistically never be escaped is a horrid sentence. Even most prison sentences of today, assuming proper behavior, can hope for the escape of the duty set them by a judge. I, however, remain behind bars of nausea, pain and exhaustion so long as deemed necessary.
This might perhaps mean a life sentence.
I consider time, and the heart-wrenching notion of wading through it to the end of my life. Not accomplishing anything in this life, not making even the least splash; I, who dreamed of making small splashes in my immediate neighborhood feel stripped of that option. I never expected to be a large splash maker, indeed, never even a noted splash maker---I intended to merely touch the lives I ran across in my own way, for the goodness of God. This is made exceedingly difficult by the illness and the visual difficulties I now face.
Life for me seems to be nothing but the accumulation of preparing myself for life after this, rather than life now. I thought I would work so for Him here, as a nurse, and yet I am stuck in the same room doing the same thing day after day after day. I am a prisoner in my own house, and no hope of probation. I had felt some small hope for work by blogging, but this is so difficult as to be only disheartening.
I do not understand the purpose of this sentence, though it is unlikely a sentence of punishment....for if all my sins were paid for at Golgotha, why should I pay for one with ill health? Paul himself faced ill health, with some thought as to it being the same eye condition I now have, and it seems unlikely to be that he was punished. I do not understand, if it is a punishment what I should do about it, having asked forgiveness from every sin I can think of.
But time marches on. It is easier to consider living out of time with God than this life, I dread facing a lifetime of sickness and pain. I dread missing out on some of the worldly events we are expected to do--have a family, career, and so on. Either way, I assume in one manner or another, God will provide a means for me to withstand the terror of ill health and possible blindness. I hope I hold on to what little strength is there to finish my marathon well. At this point, I am doggedly running with a tremendous limp and dragging one limb, my breath burning with each gasp. Where oh where is the finish line, that I might rest for a moment before running on again, jumping the hurdles set before me? Do I have any rest before the call comes in life, pulling us home, or in the end of life? Move that foot, one more stride. Take a breath, swallow hard, take a breath. How much further, O my King? When can I rest for just a while?
On Kierkegaard's tomb is written "Only a little time and then everything is conquered. Then the whole battle will all of a sudden be over. Then he may drink the water of life and in all eternity speak with Jesus."
This is so very true, whether one lives a year, a decade, a score or a century. At rhe end of our lives, the battle we fight every moment is fully won. Not that the battle isn't already won for all intents and purposes, for the death of Christ and His resurrection completed the battle of sin and death...but we still fight our daily battle against our own wicked sin nature and the influences of a fallen and terrible world. It is exhausting and weary-some, some stages of life are beyond all measure of misery, whether we face firing squads for our faith , ill health or a stubborn sin, they are all as self consuming as the other, in a sickeningly morose notion. The least of physical strains somehow are as overwhelming as the worst of physical strain, in the manner of the thinking of the human brain. We wil rate a suffering as harder than another...but it rarely makes it easier to live through a hardship if we remind one another. "Be glad you have food." "Be glad you have a home". "Be glad you had medication". It somehow is rarely comforting to the chemotherapy sufferer to be told those things as the terrible lassitude or nausea shakes them.
At the end of this long haul, we stand with Christ, free of all sorrow ever and anon, feeling, if anything, that the horrors felt on this wicked planet were worth it one thousand times over infinity. If that one dream I had was indeed a glimpse into Paradise with Him, it was ALL, EVERY MOMENT, worth it. It still doesn't always help though when facing another dark day, locked behind sunglasses, a boring day or illness and pain, sadness and hopelessness for a cure or indeed, a decent treatment. But how long the road looks, with its pits, snakes, snares, traps and sickness leaping out at every moment. I wish that I had more courage as I look at the toil before me at this very minute. I know all too well the passages stating that we should leave worry to itself---that tomorrow should worry for itself. Somehow my heart is so weak at the moment from wading through time, sorrow and fear that I have a very hard time remembering to do that. I rarely am able, so I wish I was more courageous about facing my health fears.
I want to finish well, that God might have pride on my efforts for Him, though I so often forget to live my sickness in efforts on behalf of Him. How can I finish well if I live in effort of myself and not of God. We stand now as servants of God, which means all we do is for Him. Is it not easier to do something for someone you love than for yourself? Don't many mothers drop nearly everything in aid of their children? It can be easier to do something for the love of a friend than to someone one doesn't know...All life's efforts are easier when given as a gift to God. What else but a gift, a living sacrifice, given in love not by "law" or "rules" shows our great love to Him---be it pure faith for one sick enough, or missionary work, or kindness to the grocery store clerk? Struggling to get over a sin, live with a sickness, or whatever it might be is more easily done when on behalf of God.
Consider, then, dear reader, how much effort you put into that one small thing for God, the effort,the love in that gift....and compare it to the gift given to any man on earth who decides to see His sacrifice for what it was. An ultimate example of love, effort, on His part, when we merely take the sinful nature we all hold dear, point it out to ourselves, and ask God, Christ, to be a saviour. Think of what an enormous gift that it, really. Certainly God is God, but knowing how hard we work when doing something for God maybe gives the smallest of glimpses into the depths of His love for us, the never fading, never wavering, always present, perfect form of love that He holds for us. Never forget that in the hardest of struggles....its all too easy to do.
