Vertigo Needs to Go

Thanks again for the prayers of so many of you who read my blog. I deeply appreciate it. I'm hoping now that my March, 2013 appointment at Vanderbilt Hospital in Nashville, TN will be moved to an earlier day.

I thought the low blood pressure and high heart rate was bad, but this Vertigo thing trumps it all. A few have written me that they had Vertigo for weeks or even months. Wow! I don’t know how you stood it. After two minutes I whimper like a puppy and want Melanie to stroke my hair and whisper, “Poor baby.” And I want her to sound like she means it too.

My intent isn’t to drone on about my symptoms, certainly not for the sake of gaining sympathy about the physical challenge I’m facing right now. I’m being honest about this journey for another reason. The reason is because I know I’m not alone. Others are hurting too.

In some corners of the charismatic world (not all), a world where I have precious friends, there is the belief that it’s wrong to even talk about symptoms. The idea is that the problem is somehow empowered by the simple acknowledgement of its existence and exacerbated by the mere mention of any details.

I don’t claim to have a perfect understanding of the subject of healing but I do trust completely in The Healer. Contrary to what my Evangelical tradition taught me, I do believe that healing is inherent in the finished work of Christ on the cross. In a paradoxical way that I neither understand nor can explain, I do believe that I am already healed in the same sense that I believe I am seated with Christ in the heavenly places at this moment. (see Ephesians 2:6) I can’t connect the dots between Reality and my experience, but I believe it.

That is what I do believe. What I don’t believe is that healing is so fragile and vulnerable to my misspoken words that I can blow it all to smithereens by saying the wrong thing. Don’t get me wrong. I believe words are important. My own wife teases me at times about invalidating words somebody else has spoken in my presence. I do think there is power in words, but I don’t share the view of some that I must constantly be protesting, “I’m not receiving that! No, I am healed! There’s nothing wrong with me! Ugh, ugh . . . no way. I’m rebuking and renouncing and rejecting and resisting and reprimanding these lying symptoms! I’m gonna bind this and loose that! Yes, sir!” 

Believe me when I say that I’m not mocking anybody here. I promise. What I am saying is that this kind of thing strikes me as fear based more than faith based. I’ll admit I could be wrong, but it reminds me of the old movie scenes where somebody is whistling in the dark because he’s afraid but doesn’t want to show it. If I believe my Father truly loves me and believe that my healing is bound up in that love, I don’t feel a need to constantly to talk like the guy “who lives in a van down by the river.” Many won’t get that statement, but if you do, you know exactly what I mean.

When I’m dizzy and somebody reminds me that my dizziness is a “lying symptom,” what does that mean? I’m still dizzy. It’s not in my imagination. When I was in the hospital, some suggested that the reason the doctors couldn’t find anything was because “there [was] nothing wrong with [me.]”  So would they have had me get up to walk out and fall down in the floor? Or did they believe if I just got up to walk out that this time my blood pressure wouldn’t drop and I wouldn’t pass out?

No, that’s not my understanding of how it works. My view is that I trust my Father. Period. My faith isn’t in my faith and its strength. My faith is in my God and His goodness. Mr. Faith lives inside me and I trust Him and His faith, which is my faith. I have surrendered my body to Him, a living sacrifice. He can do as He will.

I know this approach doesn’t fit with the doctrine of healing some hold, but it’s where I am. One man emailed me yesterday and told me that I’m still a baby with a lot of growing to do. He’s right about that, but I still think I’m right about this. My faith is in the One who holds my life and my future in His hands. I’ll trust Him, fully believing both that He is a Healer and that I’ve got a problem right now. Don’t ask me to reconcile it. I can’t, but please don’t try to reconcile it for me either. It doesn’t help me nor change my situation. What I most appreciate these days is the loving encouragement that so many have offered. They have wisdom to know that compassion must always precede counsel or else their counsel is sterile.

Some critics of Jesus said, “We played the flute for you, and you did not dance” (Matthew 11:17). Forgive my boldness in comparing myself to Jesus in this way, but I’m not dancing to somebody else’s music. I have to dance to the tune I hear and the song I hear right now is a soft tune of simple trust not a blaring song of brazen statements.

I’ve heard from many people over the past few months that find themselves in a condition of chronic health challenges. My heart goes out to them more than ever before. If you’re one of those, don’t feel like something is wrong with your faith. If you trust your Father, that’s all you need to do. Indeed, it is all you can do. Don’t let well-meaning people put guilt on you about your degree of faith or put questions in your mind about why this is even happening.

I heard my friend, Malcolm Smith, say in a teaching one time something to the effect that when he was in the hospital somebody asked him, “Malcolm, what is God doing in this?” His answer was, “He’s being Jesus in a hospital bed through Malcolm Smith.” Yes, that’s it. In our weakness, His strength is perfected. Some corners of the church don’t like that. They’d rather rebuke weakness, failing to see that it is actually a precious treasure that brings the strength of our loving Jesus into a sharper focus than we could ever otherwise see.

I don’t like this situation. I don’t like it at all. There have been days I’ve gotten up and said to Melanie, “No! This thing is not going to have its way with me today.” Then I take a shower, step out huffing and puffing and about to black out. So I lie back down and say, “Okay, but maybe I’ll rest first before I show it who’s boss!”

There have been other days when I’ve felt discouraged. I don’t do well with a slower pace. Yeah, I know I’ve written chapters in books about that. Maybe I should go back and read them myself. But still, I want to get up and out! I have places to go and people to see and things to do!  Apparently, my Father knows that’s not true. At least, not today.

There have been moments when I’ve felt depression. I’ve wondered if this is my “new normal.” I’ve heard haunting voices about the possibilities of what they may tell me when I get to Vanderbilt Hospital. I’ve been told enough to know that, humanly speaking, what the doctors here hope for is that the problem is manageable but they also have said it could be a precursor to something terminal. Thank God, I know my life transcends the human perspective and rests in His providence. Nevertheless, I have had “what if?” moments. I have no fear of death. None. Zero. When I lay on the ground outside on April 15, coming in and out of consciousness and the paramedics could find no pulse, Melanie asked, “Are you afraid?” “Of what? Heaven? NO!” I answered. That was the truth.

I wouldn’t want to leave the woman I love though. Or my children. Or grandchildren. That’s how I think some days. Not often, but sometimes.

So, here I am – “the grace guy” as more than one pastor has called me when introducing me – sitting or lying around wondering what the heck my Father is doing right now. I’ve asked but, so far, He hasn’t told me. So I wait. So I trust. So I hope. This is where all the teaching I’ve done through the years is revealed to be genuinely true or just talk. It’s true. I know that.

Thank God, I don’t feel a need to prove anything to anybody. I am comfortable just to be me. My friend, Craig Snyder, sometimes says, “I’m old and my back hurts and I really don’t care.” That’s a good place to be, don’t you think? I’m there with him, and with others. If God gives me a lightning bolt healing experience that jolts me to my feet with a shaka-laka-ding-dong touch from heaven, I’ll love it. I’ll probably write about it. Maybe even call the book, “Shaka-Laka-Ding-Dong.” But if not, I’ll come through this in His way and His timing. Either way, it’s all Him.