Two seemingly opposite things can be simultaneously true. There are some folks who might possibly dispute that, the more didactic among us. Yet, the harshness of life on this side of glory has been bringing the tension of the true-opposites into sharper contrast for me lately.
God heals. I believe that.
I also believe we have lifelong disabilities and chronic loss-of-health.
Opposites, so it seems.
To relentlessly chase to embrace the first truth can lead to an almost comical fanaticism.
To cling solely to the second truth will grind faith, hope and charity to dust.
To only have the perspective of the first seems to disclaim we all have an enemy always looking to destroy us.
To stay locked in the second denies the truth that God is exactly who He says He is: Healer and the One making all things new.
The prayer approach and faith balance between the two is…I’d at first say difficult, but it’s more that it’s ever-presently tense in me.
Our longtime Nashville pastor Scotty Smith regularly reminded us from the pulpit that we live in the Now and the Not Yet.
Another couplet of true-opposites.
Over the past few weeks I’ve repeatedly encountered Scriptures, songs, posts, podcasts and comments about the focus of Not Yet: Jesus’ return. Some hear the phrase “Jesus is coming back” and all the apocalyptic Hollywood-ness floods their mind. For some it’s a fear-filled, convicting and horrifying thought. It is true, He will return and it will be stunning.
But in my/our true-opppsites life, it’s a lot more comfort than concern, a lot more hope than horror. St Paul wrote that on this side (Now) we see through a glass dimly, but THEN we shall see face to face (Not Yet).
Yes.
Come quickly, Lord.
I know then there will be ultimate healing.
Still, today, the prayer is for healing, restoration, rightness N-O-W, NOW!
Mercy.
It’s really bad, like hopelessly
bad for the dad. The man wasn’t faith-less, but he was absolutely faith-depleted.
At wit’s end.
The dad was reduced to “IF you can help us”. Jesus looked into that man’s eyes and assured him it would be done and the man honestly prayed directly to Jesus’ face, “Lord, help my unbelief”.
Some kernel of belief, trust and hope for healing led him to Jesus. Then the healing moment finally arrived, but (the ever-presently tense thought)…it was many years into the struggle with the dad admitting he was spent. While reading that portion of Mark’s Gospel, I also noticed the very one needing healing, the son, has nothing at all to say in this account. There’s no mention of the son’s age, other than the father explaining his son has been this way “since childhood”. For all we know, he could have been an adult, like 27 years old. The dad has faith, barely, for his boy. He didn’t have the answers, but he came face to face with the one who did.
Many of us wrestle with this over a lifetime with children, spouses, extended family, friends, colleagues, all forming an endless list of needed healings.
One of the first portions of Scripture I memorized was Psalm 23. I repeat it often. David wrote “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” Desperately desiring healing and restoration equates as that valley to me. Loss of health due to a chronic condition and/or a lifelong disability are on the death-loss-side of existence, not the life-vitality-side.
So I repeat the Psalm to remind myself: You are with me/us. I breathe the prayer: Jesus, heal and restore the ones I love.
Today.
Today?
Today.
Then I pray: Help my unbelief and Come quickly, Lord.
Two apparently opposite desires, but simultaneously true.
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