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Normally, I'm a pretty healthy person. I get sick maybe once a year, and typically it's something minor, and I'm back on my feet pretty quickly. In that last six months, I've been sick three times. When I get sick, I am impatient to get better - and that makes me grumpy. When it affects plans I've made, that's even worse, and of course, all three of the illnesses I've had recently have been during plans I've made.
In December, I caught a cold right after Christmas. My husband and I had planned a trip to San Antonio to watch the Alamo Bowl. I debated about not going, but husband insisted it would be fine. However, I was in a bad mood the whole trip. I didn't feel well. I had wanted to enjoy time with my husband, and instead we could barely talk because my voice was gone. When I think back on the trip, my memories tend to be negative.
Then in February, my kids and I came down with covid during the week we had planned to go to Great Wolf Lodge with my parents and sister's family. This is a new tradition that we started last year and is my parents' birthday present to the grandkids. There was no way we could go. So not only was I miserable because I felt awful, but because I missed out on a fun trip with my family.
This month, we had planned to go see a favorite comedian that was coming near us. As the time approached, my throat began to tickle. Then I lost my voice. Each day closer to the show, I got a little bit worse. Once again an illness was going to ruin my plans!
Remember the book of Job? I hate it when people compare themselves to Job, because usually it isn't even close to the same, but in my case I could picture one similarity. Not in the intensity of the trial or difficulty of the situation, but in the purpose of the trial.
Probably because of my fiction-writing mind, I imagined Satan standing before God like he did in the beginning of the book of Job.
"Have you seen my servant, Courtney?" God says. "She's grown so much over the past few years!"
Satan chuckles. "Oh, yes! I know her very well. She's not even a challenge. All I need to do is make her ill."
"Okay," God answers, "you may do that. Only you can't keep her from her trip with Joel."
After my trip to San Antonio, Satan again stands before the Lord.
"Courtney didn't do too badly on your test," God says.
Satan rolls his eyes. "It wasn't good either! Did you see her attitude? If you had allowed me to interfere with her plans, then it would have been worse. You know how much she cherishes control."
God nods. "All right. You may make her ill and ruin her plans."
The thing is, I fully believed that Satan is absolutely right. In that situation, I would doubt, get angry, pout - and while I may not actually curse God, I certainly would give Him some of the blame, feeling like if I were in control, things would have worked out exactly right.
Praying to God, I told Him that Satan was right, and that this was a test I would fail over and over and over again. So would He please stop testing me on this? Tears fell as I admitted this, but I fully believed that this was one area of my life that I would never conquer, and I was so tired of going through it.
The very next day was Sunday. I stayed home from church feeling miserable. My symptoms were bad enough that I sent the tickets to my husband and asked my daughter if her friend would like my ticket. I sent the hotel reservation to Joel as well, and fumed that once again I was going to miss out on my plans because of a stupid sickness.
I watched my church's live stream that morning, and felt God tear apart my accusations and my struggles. We've been in the book of Acts and there was one line that my pastor focused on. "But as he left, he promised, “I will come back if it is God’s will.” Then he set sail from Ephesus." (Acts 18:21 NIV)
There's always mixed feelings when I know that God planned a sermon just for me. On the one hand, it's pretty incredible that God cares about me so much that He is willing to take the time and effort it takes to discipline me when needed. On the other hand, it kind of hurts.
"If it's God's will." I make my plans and if I even use the phrase "if God wills" it's more of the Christian version of knocking on wood. It's more of a superstitious catchphrase than because I actually believe it. I'll even use the 'southern' version that I picked up from my grandparents on occasion - "Lord willin' and the crick don't rise", but I don't actually mean it.
What I really mean though is "I made my plans and God had better have the same plans in mind". Yeah, it sounds pretty bad to me too when I write it out like that. However, it's the truth. I want my will in my time. I want the control. When I'm forced to recognize that I'm not in control, I behave like a toddler.
So there I was, sitting at home, feeling terrible and being convicted, knowing that I wasn't going to get my way yet again, and knowing that I had a decision to make. How was I going to handle it? Was I going to blame God and pout? Or was I going to accept God's will and bow to His authority?
Later that afternoon, I was forced to go to Minute Clinic and be seen. It turned out that I had a bad sinus infection and a double ear infection. My decision to stay home was a good one as I rested and recovered.
At home by myself, I confessed once again my faithlessness, my idol of control, and my poor attitude. I relaxed and allowed my body to heal (though still not with patience - I'm a work in progress). I'm not under any delusions that I'm going to get this perfect the next time it comes up. In fact, I will probably need this same lesson many times in my life - much to my chagrin. But I'm thankful that God is long-suffering and that He corrects me as my Father.
Photo by Pixabay: https://www.pexels.com/photo/person-lying-on-sofa-269141/
