The topic of healing is a big one in the Church, and why should it not be? Scripture shows us countless instances in which people who were sick were healed. When people we love face injuries or diagnoses, we ask for prayer from the community, we ask for healing from God—even if we don’t talk to Him on a regular basis otherwise. Prayer for those who need healing is an idea most any of us can get behind. As creations of God marred by a broken world, we all naturally long to be whole, to experience life in its fullness.
But I think praying for a miracle is the easy part. And, even if we aren’t willing to utter the words aloud or are afraid to believe that miracles still happen, I think at some point or another we all deeply feel the desire for a miracle in our lives. Life has a way of throwing at us things we never saw coming, things we never asked for, and in the hardest hours, we want those things to go away. We want our marriage to be better; we want our child to be healed; we want the financial troubles to be eased; we want the family tension to dissipate. We want a prayer and an answer, life to be easier. And God is God, so why shouldn’t we believe that one prayer could change everything?
It could. We see in Scripture many times over how one prayer or one encounter with Jesus changed everything for a person. I believe in a God of miracles, a God of healing. But sometimes I think that our desire for a miracle is wrongly placed—we build our hope on receiving the outcome we desire, not on the miracle-working God Himself. (Maybe that’s just me?) I think too often we also count on the miracle, hope for the miracle, because we don’t want hard work. We don’t want to be uncomfortable. We don’t want to face what might be challenging to us, to our belief systems, to our lifestyle.
This is a human problem. I mean, it’s quite natural for us to not want things to be hard or challenging. We seek the easy road, the most efficient method, the least-painful process. I get it. That’s very normal. But in doing so, perhaps we miss out on many of the miracles God wants to do in our lives because we sit in the chair at church or stand in our kitchen or hide in our closet asking God for a miracle though we are simultaneously unwilling to do any work on our end to walk that miracle out in real time. And when we don’t see anything happen, we question God and blame Him for not showing up.
Of course, there are situations in our lives, in the world, that are fully out of our control. Situations that, no matter what we do or say, nothing is going to change as a result of our actions. I fully acknowledge that. Seeing a miracle isn’t always about us doing something or anything at all.
But when it comes to us—and our own desires for healing and wholeness —sometimes we are sitting around waiting for God to do something while He is waiting for us to get up and join Him in the process, no matter how difficult, painful, or uncomfortable that will be.
I don’t know where you sit today, but I know for myself that I have asked God for a myriad of healing throughout my life. The outcome I hoped for was an instant one. But if I am being honest, I was hopeful that healing meant the process would be quick, painless, and very easy. Then I’d emerge as a totally new person, free from the baggage and frustrations of being human. Struggle would be gone, and I’d love life. I’d shout from the mountaintops about how good God was and what a miracle He had done. I prayed and prayed for healing—mental, emotional, and physical. And I grew more and more weary with each passing year that I found myself still here, still me, still the same.
Last year, the inner turmoil of years and years began to show up in a debilitating physical way. Desperation set in. I think physical pain has a way of getting our attention—often, we can only ignore it so long before we can no longer practically function in life. I have found it far to easy to ignore my thoughts or emotions but it is impossible to ignore migraines, especially when they hit you every three days and you can’t even catch your breath before the next one begins.
Those migraines were a wake up call. I could keep praying for the God of Miracles to show up and make the pain go away. Or I could get out of the chair, make a phone call, and take some steps toward alleviating this pain. A few weeks into 2023, I began seeing a chiropractor. And I never would have thought that seeing her would change the trajectory of my life. My first visit with her set me on a path of healing I didn’t ask for, I didn’t want, and I didn’t think was possible. I needed a lot more than a neck adjustment.
Sometimes healing is instant and praise God for those miracles that sweep us off our feet and blow us away in an instant. Those are real and true and good. But too often, I think healing is actually hard work. When an athlete suffers a major injury, they don’t sleep for a few days and return to the gym in full force. No—the process of healing is long. It is grueling, mentally and physically. Often it takes months or years, with two steps forward and ten steps back, to return to the pre-injury state. The process takes persistence and courage, sweat and tears.
Sometimes, healing takes time. Healing is hard. I wish it were one and done. I wish it were easy. I wish it felt more exciting, more energizing. I have found the process exhausting and confusing. Hopeful, yes—but challenging. I want to quit. Sometimes I find myself looking back at “Egypt,” to bondage, believing that back there I “sat by pots of meat and ate all the bread [I] wanted” (Exodus 16.3). And although “I know the place I was wasn’t perfect . . . I had found a way to live” (Groves). I’ve been living in survival mode for so long, that kind of started to feel comfortable. In the moment, maybe not . . . but now, it seems like that was a lot more comfortable that getting out of it. Really, there are many days when living in bondage to anxiety and depression and overwhelm and perfectionism and control feels a LOT easier than walking into the wilderness, where God makes water flow from a rock and bread to rain from heaven. That’s really not the miracle I asked for anyway.
I was okay with You setting me free, God—if it came all shiny and exciting, fun and fast—definitely fast. I was okay with the miracle, as long as it was quick and painless, and maybe a bit romantic, like a movie. But an uncomfortable process? That requires me to choose to show up each morning? That requires me to do work? Hard work? To listen to You? To deal with my pain?
Far too often, I think we miss out on the healing we desire because we aren’t willing to do the hard work of healing. The commitment is daunting. The time it takes might require that we give up other things, even if just for a season but maybe altogether. Facing the problem, whether that be mental or physical, is painful. It feels easier just to keep going on with what we are doing and praying for that miracle instead of facing what’s really going on. Often, we think if we just ignore the problem, it will go away on its own, or at the very least, it really won’t cause that much damage. Often, it’s easier just to numb the pain with whatever coping mechanisms we have developed. All of this certainly feels good to an extent but doesn’t deal with the root of the issue. It creates a false sense of peace which ultimately leaves us continually grasping for a miracle that we will probably never see.
The process of healing is not for the faint of heart. Honestly, though? I am faint of heart. Most days, I am too tired to care. I’d rather just stay in bed, figuratively. I’d rather just cope. Rather just survive. But when I take God’s outstretched hand and let Him lead me on this journey, He gives me courage to keep going. He opens my eyes to daily glimmers of hope and promise. He reminds me where the path ultimately leads—which is an eternity where He wipes away every tear from my eyes. So I keep showing up for this work of healing, even though it doesn’t look at all like I thought it would.
Sources:
Groves, Sara. “Painting Pictures of Egypt.” Conversations, INO Records, 2001.
The Bible. Holman Christian Standard Bible, Holman Christian Bible Publishers, 2004.
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Cati Grape 