Where Opposites Meet

It’s like the last four and a half years never happened.

Time is a funny thing. While remaining constant in its passing, our perception of it can make it seem to change. We say things like, “This day is moving so slow” or “Time flies when you’re having fun”. The reality, though, is that it doesn’t change.

Time is always ticking at the same rate. Always passing. Never stopping.

The last four and a half years have felt both fast and impossibly slow as I’ve struggled to gain back some semblance of control over the various symptoms that have plagued me since my mystery disease first hit in July of 2020.

Four and a half years. A lot of blood (literally. You’ve never felt more like a pincushion than when a rheumatologist runs tests on you), sweat, tears, and hard hard work have been spent over the past four and a half years. And I made it so much farther in my progress than I ever thought I could.

And yet, my body now feels like those years never happened. What took four and a half years to accomplish was undone in only a matter of days. And I’m left feeling tired, scared, and confused. After two weeks of pain, spasticity, and weakness gradually spreading from my feet to my shoulders, I feel like I did when this all started. Only maybe a little worse because this time around I knew what is was like to appreciate a strong body, a blessing I didn’t appreciate before this all started. But now, my legs shake again when I walk down the stairs. I can’t stand longer than a few minutes without pain and my lower back feeling like my upper body is too heavy for it to support. Walking on a flat surface can feel like walking uphill. It takes effort for my core to hold up my body when I sit. It takes effort to press down on the gas pedal when I drive my car around town. I feel like I have a bladder infection when I know full well I don’t. And I catch my hands shaking as I reach for objects.

And so I’m sitting here feeling like time is a thief. Because how can four and a half years of work disappear in the span of only two weeks?

I don’t have an answer for that and neither does my neurologist. He ordered urgent MRI’s of my spine last week but to both my and his surprise, they were clear. Where we both expected to see a lesion and a clear cause for this deterioration, there was a healthy spinal cord. I’m waiting now to get an EMG and a nerve conduction study. I’m waiting to see my rheumatologist to ask her more questions. And I’m waiting to see what the true extent of the damage done will be. Will it stay as it is now or get a little worse before I plateau at a new normal?

And while I’m waiting, I’m left wondering if this is what the rest of my life will look like—spending countless hours and days building up strength in my body only to lose it in a few short hours or days to a thief of a nameless disease. And that scares me.

But I’m learning something important. It’s something that the Lord started placing on my heart a few weeks ago, and He must think that the best way for me to learn it is by showing me firsthand how opposites can meet. How two very distinct paths can converge and turn into one as long as He’s the one bringing them together.

Psalm 23 is a beautiful representation of the meeting of opposites with the most obvious example being verse 5:

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.”

The picture conveyed in this verse is of our being invited to sit with Jesus at His table. To relax and enjoy fellowship with Him. But our enemies are there too. Opposites—joyful fellowship and the presence of enemies.

When I first started thinking about this a few weeks ago, I began to wonder if maybe this wasn’t the only instance of opposites meeting in this psalm. What if the green pastures, the still waters, and the paths of righteousness can all be found in the valley of the shadow of death?

And if they are all present in the midst of the valley, what would that mean for how I should approach difficulties in life?

Well, first, I think I need to remember to let these trials remind me about the nature of time. It’s always passing and my days are numbered. In Psalm 90, Moses prays,

“So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.”

Teach me to number my days…if I need to be taught to number my days, it must mean that I too easily forget that time is always passing—that this world is not going to be eternal. And if it isn’t going to be eternal, then in learning to number my days, I need to be learning to keep a heavenly perspective. In Colossians 3:2-4 Paul provides this exhortation:

“Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with Him in glory.”

In trials, I’m reminded that my days are numbered.

In numbering my days, I’m reminded that my life belongs to Christ.

And in remembering that I belong to Christ, I’m reminded that He’s coming again.

And on that day, He’ll make all things new. He’ll make my broken body new.

In the meanwhile, I’m walking a path where two opposites are meeting. I’m walking beside the still waters in the midst of the valley of the shadow of death. I’m sitting at a table of sweet fellowship in the presence of the enemy of my mystery disease. And this is all possible because of the promise found at the end of this Psalm. In the midst of the meeting of opposites, His goodness and mercy will surely follow me along the path He has me walking.

I have what currently appears to be a long path to recovery ahead of me. And I could very easily find myself right back in this spot again a few years down the line. But I’ve been reminded that Christ was the one who gave me the strength to make so much progress over the last four and a half years. So I can trust Him to do that again. And again. And again, however many times He may ask me to do this.

So let the work begin, and may I never forget that His goodness and mercy will follow me every step of the way.

“Lord, I believe You can set me at ease

Turn this broken piece in me to peace and quiet

I know there's power in Your word

So I'll say it over and over 'til my soul's reminded

Oh, The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want

He leads me by still waters 'til my fears are gone

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

Oh, I know You are with me, my Father, my friend

Your goodness and mercy will follow me all of my days

I know by Your still waters, I'm safe” - Still Waters, Leanna Crawford