Thank God, I’m Sick

“Thank God, I’m sick.”

I’m laying in bed with a tissue in one hand and a cup of peppermint tea in the other. The room smells like Eucalyptus oil. I’ve been housebound for two weeks.

Sadly, I’m not alone. Every time my cell phone beeps, someone is asking for prayer concerning their health. Toothache, flu, stroke, high blood pressure, cancer, miscarriage. When I’m tempted to feel sorry for myself, I remember to pray for other people’s health.

Mostly, I’ve been learning to thank God in everything—even when I woke at 2 a.m., hacking till I thought I’d spit up blood. “In everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (1 Thessalonians 5:18).

Oh, I know how to be a pollyanna—an optimistic character. I’ve learned to look for the silver lining. When a tree fell on our fence this spring, I thanked God the tree didn’t fall on our house. When I got sick, I thanked God for medicine, health insurance, and a husband to bring me tea. I thanked God I didn’t have pneumonia. But, if I thank God in every circumstance, shouldn’t I thank Him that I’m sick?

I know God can use all things for my good and His purposes, but thanking Him for being ill sounds ridiculous, right? However, I’m here to say thanking God this past month (even prior to my illness) has made a difference.

When we went to our son’s college commencement ceremony outdoors, it was raining. I had to wear a poncho over my new dress and walk in sandals over a squishy wet lawn. “Thank you, Lord, for the rain.”

Was I thankful? Not really. Did I sound sarcastic? Yep.

Thanking God in everything requires obedience before there are results. The day after commencement was so hot and humid that, given the choice, I was grateful we’d sat in the cool, drizzling rain rather than squinting and fanning ourselves in the sun.

However, what if we don’t see the positive in hindsight, other than, it might have been worse. Well, when the bad germs first hit me and I felt like road kill, I couldn’t see anything positive. My first instinct was to grumble, “No, spare me.” Then I remembered to thank God in everything. I forced myself to say, “Thank you, Lord, I’m in pain. Thank you for this horrific cough.”

Just saying the words, “Thank you,” put my eyes on God. He knows I’m ill. I know He cares. Thanking God for being sick has kept me from grumbling. How do you thank someone and grumble at the same time? And not grumbling keeps me from having a pity party.

Now, if I’d been ill during my son’s graduation, I’d probably be singing a less thankful tune. But, based on my God lessons and quizzes thus far, I can honestly say:

Being thankful doesn’t change the weather. I’m sick whether I thank God or not. And yet, thanking God in everything does make a difference … even in this.

 

Photos: Pixabay

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Why the Hesitation?

How’s your heart? Are you overwhelmed? Dismayed?

That’s how King David described himself in Psalm 143.  And that’s how I felt when I woke up.

Though the winter sky was baby blue, and the sun’s rays shimmied between the bare tree limbs.

I blamed my mood on a head cold. And yet, sometimes, it’s difficult to pinpoint the reason I’m anxious or depressed.

Thankfully, God knows the human propensity to allow circumstances and emotions to overwhelm us. That’s why He used King David to pen Psalm 143.

Words written centuries ago, but relevant today—in this exact moment—because God’s Word is able to clear the negative voices in a congested head. And point us to a better way of living.

My feral cat was also in a mood.

Stuck outside overnight, she sat on our front porch rail, waiting. Watching me through the kitchen window while I brewed a cup of tea.

When our eyes met, my cat arched her back and meowed. I opened the door, stumbled towards my desk as she weaved in and out between my feet.

Unlike most mornings, my feral cat wanted more than warmth and food. She paced back and forth, rolled on the wood floor. Then she sat by my desk chair, staring at my lap. It’s rare for this independent feline to cuddle, but I saw the debate within her eyes.

Meanwhile, I just “happened” to open my Bible to Psalm 143. It’s the same passage I underlined fourteen years ago when I dealt with anxiety and winter blues. Only this time, I paused at verse 5.

“I remember the days of old. I meditate on all Your doings; I muse on the work of Your hands.”

Remember. Meditate. Muse.

On what?

  • My circumstances?
  • My emotions?
  • My thoughts?

No, we’re told to…

Remember God’s Work.  Meditate on the great things the Lord has done. Not only for mankind, but in people’s lives…in my life.

“Dwell much on what I did, as well as what I said. Remember, ‘I touched her hand, and the fever left her.’ Not many words, just a moment’s contact, and all fever left her.” (God Calling)

Lord, please touch my heart so my mood melts into nothingness.

I glanced down at my cat who watched me with the same hesitation that I came before the God. Afraid to ask, as if I was unworthy, or He had greater things to tend to than “my mood.”

I tapped my robe. “Come here.”

Cat ears flinched.

“What? You don’t trust me after all these years?”

My audible words convicted me. Wasn’t this God’s attitude towards me when I hesitate to come to Him? Hesitate to ask?

What keeps folks from wanting more of God, or receiving all He wants to give?

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Before I could answer my question, the cat jumped on the desk and settled beside my Bible. Soon, she curled on my lap, purring.

Content; unafraid.

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Not unlike her mistress, now resting in God’s capable Hands.

Let me hear Thy loving kindness in the morning; for I trust in Thee...” (vs.8)

Touchdown


I’m snuggled beneath warm sheets when my alarm clock pesters me to rise and shine. I stumble out of bed, sleepy-eyed, and head for the kitchen. Friends are coming to our house after church to watch televised football games.

First order of business: brew myself a hot cup of French-pressed coffee. Within minutes, my full cup sits idle on the kitchen counter while I hurry through my to-do list. If there’s one thing I know about my “men folk,” they want their appetites fed the moment they walk through the door on Sunday afternoons. So I melt Velveeta cheese, make a taco bean dip, and dice lettuce and tomatoes for our Mexican feast. 

Husband and son stroll into the kitchen ready for church as I rush by them to get dressed. But when I re-emerge from the bedroom with Bible and purse in hand, I’m informed there’s a change in plans.

Our company canceled.

Seriously?

Self-centered thoughts surface and swim in my head like blood-thirsty sharks. What about all the food? Do we invite someone else? I wish I’d known an hour ago.  

Instead of lending a voice to my thoughts, I apply scripture. I put a “guard around my mouth” (Psalm 141:3) and “take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ.” (2 Cor. 10:5)    

 


   

   After church, my husband stands in the kitchen scooping tortilla chips into the quesadilla dip. “Tastes good, Karen. I’m sorry our friends couldn’t come, but you’re handling it well.”

  His comment makes me grow two inches taller. “You’re right, especially when I consider how easily I got frustrated last week. Do you know why I didn’t get upset today?”

“Why?”

I point to my Bible laying on the kitchen counter next to my cup of cold coffee. “I’ve been in God’s Word and prayer for the past few days. It makes all the difference in my attitude.”

My husband hugs me and heads for the man cave to watch the kickoff. I stir Chicken Tortilla soup that’s been simmering in my crockpot for hours. Its variety of spices, amplified by heat and time, has created a culinary delight.  

The slow process reminds me of my spiritual sanctification. There’s no such thing as microwave holiness. Sanctification, becoming more like Jesus, is a life-long process.

So today’s change of plans and my response is another opportunity to “be conformed into the image of Christ” and “bring Him praise.”

My husband turns up the television volume as I ladle hot soup into three bowls. There must have been a touchdown because I can hear the fans cheering through my wall. I imagine the football player who scored is raising his arms in victory. 

I love the similarity to my life.

Okay, so I fumbled the ball last week. It’s not the end of the world.

Nothing’s wasted.

Even though some days seem like baby steps, I’m learning how to “walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, pleasing Him in all respects” (Col. 1:10).

Today is Sunday, the beginning of a new week, and when I compare my calm reaction today with last week’s critical spirit, I know by God’s grace……

I scored a touchdown.  And that’s something to cheer!