Morning Has Come

In the year that followed my dad’s death, I found growing in my soul the desire to write. It felt like the only way to make sense of all of my jumbled thoughts and feelings would be to write it all down. It worked. It helped. I shared my thoughts and found my friends asking that I continue to share what God was teaching me through my grief. And the first official post of this blog was focused on a night beginning and with it, the wait for the coming morning when weeping would cease and my mourning would be turned to dancing. That’s how I chose the former name for this blog. If I was going to write about the process of grief and what God was teaching me through it, it made sense to name it “Waiting for Morning”. I wondered in that first post if a day would ever come when the fourth day of the month would no longer signify another month gone by without my dad. The day has come. I still miss him greatly, but the pain isn’t as sharp and incessant as it was then. And I’m grateful.

About a year after I started the blog, it transitioned more to a conversation about trials overall. My legs had gone numb and I was scared of what that meant. Scared of what the future held. Scared of facing that future without my dad’s support. Just scared. I now found myself waiting for the morning to come when God would heal me, whether that came here on earth or some day in heaven. I continued to weep. I continued to stumble around in the darkness of the night, trying to walk in a straight path and hoping desperately that I would soon see that first ray of sunlight signaling an end to this trial.

It’s two years later now and I have not yet seen that ray of sunlight. But I realized today it was because I had been looking for the wrong light. I hadn’t been looking for the Light of the world. I don’t mean that to say that I wasn’t searching for what lessons God wanted to teach me about Himself and about how He would be faithful in walking with me through this trial. As you can see from the multiple posts, in His grace, He has taught me much in the last two years. But my focus was on complete healing. Morning would not come until He either healed me here on earth or until I found myself in heaven with the new body He has promised me. I realized this morning that I’ve been wrong this whole time.

I discussed in my last post how I believed that I was entering a season of waiting. A season during which I believed the Lord wants to teach me how to approach Him better in prayer. To talk to Him more in detail about everything. A season during which the Lord was going to teach me what it looks like to really surrender this whole mystery to Him and rest while I wait for Him to bring answers in His time, rather than mine. I felt peace about the decision to lay it all down to Him and leave it there. More peace than I had felt about that action in the past couple of years. After making this decision, my resolve was put to the test as I tried to fall asleep that night and my least favorite nerve symptom distracted my weary brain enough to where I could not fall asleep until the early hours of the morning. And when I woke up the next day, my first thought was that I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to move my legs. I can’t describe the sensation I felt as I awoke. I wasn’t necessarily afraid. I would actually describe the feeling more as curious. Curious about if I’d be able to move my legs because it simply felt like I wouldn’t be able to. Thankfully, I could, but I felt pretty weak all day. It was already proving difficult to surrender all of my mystery symptoms to the Lord and leave them in His steady hands.

I was determined, though, to see this through. I craved the peace that I had felt when I realized what He wanted me to learn. And then this morning came. I heard from another doctor, letting me know that the rare disease he was watching me for was now lower on his list of possibilities after seeing the results of all of last week’s tests. Technically, this is good news. This disease can be rough. But my weary brain could only seem to focus on how this meant I was, once again, farther away from an answer. Farther away from a treatment. Appointment after appointment. Test after test. Symptom after symptom. It has all had a compounding effect on my emotions. I will now cry at the drop of a hat. So I found myself crying at my desk and texting a friend of mine to ask if his offer of an encouraging hug when life got hard was still open.

I figured the morning couldn’t get much more discouraging at this point. I was wrong. Soon afterwards I heard from my insurance company, informing me that they would not approve a medication one of my doctors had ordered for me. Apparently insurance companies now know better than doctors what medications are best for the patient. I had been really excited about trying this medication. It would address my most hated nerve symptom. The one I don’t tell many people about. The one that kept me from sleeping soundly for three months when it first started. The reason I still have nights (like this past Saturday) when I don’t sleep well. The reason I can’t wear jeans. The reason I can’t eat any fruit other than blueberries because I can’t handle anything acidic. The symptom that has touched every single aspect of my life. So, as you can imagine, I was upset when I received the news that this medication would not be approved. Someone who did not live my daily life had decided they knew better than my doctor what I should take. I hung up the phone and sobbed in the middle of my office. I didn’t care if someone walked in and saw me. I was devastated.

After having a long talk with the Lord about surrendering my health to Him during my drive into work this morning, I was shocked that the decision was being tested so strongly so soon. I shouldn’t have been. Satan likes to hit us at our weakest points and this particular symptom is most definitely my weakest point. I texted my mom and my sister to tell them the news about the insurance company’s decision and my mom responded with a YouTube video. A video about a young woman who had searched for 10 years before finding an answer to the mystery of her health. A young woman who had similar symptoms to mine and who also knew what it was like for a disease to affect every part of her life. I didn’t want to watch it at first, but I’m glad I chose to. She mentioned Luke chapter 1 and how it was prophesied that Jesus would come into the world and bring light. How it was prophesied that the sunrise would visit us.

Luke 1:76-79 – And you, child [John], will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare His ways, to give knowledge of salvation to His people in the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.

I heard her refer to the sunrise and knew immediately that I had been wrong this whole time. Not completely wrong, but partially. There is an aspect to waiting for the morning where we all are waiting for the day the Lord will return and make all things right. Waiting for eternity with Him where there will be no more pain. No more tears. No more night. But, I hadn’t realized that this was not the only morning I needed to focus on. There was a way in which morning had already come and it came as a little baby boy named Jesus.

Isaiah 9:2 – The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone.

John 8:12 – Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

The sunrise came Christmas morning. A part of the morning I have been longing for so strongly in the last three and half years has been here this whole time and I didn’t realize it. I knew Jesus was with me. I knew He had come to save me from my sins. I knew He would be faithful to walk alongside me through the trials of life. And I knew He was the light of the world. But I hadn’t seen Him as the sunrise I was so longing to see. The ultimate morning of eternity that I’ve been focusing on is only possible because He came as the sunrise prophesied about in the first chapter of Luke. Because He took the punishment for my sins. Because He rose again on the morning of the third day, giving me hope for eternity.

1 Corinthians 15:1-4; 20-22 – Now I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you, which you received, in which you stand, and by which you are being saved, if you hold fast to the word I preached to you—unless you believed in vain. For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that He was buried, that He was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures…But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep. For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive.

My brothers and sisters in Christ, we will all face trials in this life. We will spend many nights weeping. But as you weep, take heart and remember the sunrise. Remember that the coming of the sunrise means you can look forward to the ultimate morning. To eternity spent with our Lord and Savior. To a time when there will be no night. Take heart, my friends. The morning you most need has already come.

Psalm 30:5b – Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.