Don't Miss the Miracles

Reflections on a Decade of Illness and Twenty-Four Years of Life

“Come and listen … and I will tell you what He did for me.” -Psalm 66:16

Today, I turned 24.

Today, I also marked just over a decade since I became chronically ill.

I was days away from my 14th birthday when my face, chest, and arms turned red, my head hurt, and my stomach felt unsettled. Minutes before I had finished drinking a V8 for the second time in my life. Since childhood, I hadn’t liked many vegetables, but now “my tastes were maturing,” as my dad would say. I was enjoying lettuce on my sandwiches and salads with my pizza. V8 delighted my “matured” taste buds.

But something else, as I realized that beautiful May afternoon as I looked down at my empty can of V8, was happening, too, and it wasn't good.

A few weeks later, I stood in the pharmacy, as the pharmacist handed me an EpiPen and demonstrated how to use it. Everyday foods, chemicals, and smells were now causing serious reactions. Then a few months later, in October of 2015, I developed a UTI. I recovered from the UTI, but I was left in a much worse state, as every week new symptoms kept popping up. My hair began to thin, my joints ached, my head constantly hurt, I was often nauseated, brain fog set in, and I was exhausted and slept for hours every day. I became homebound and mostly bedbound. I dropped out of all the activities I’d once loved, and I couldn’t even attend church. That was only the beginning of what felt like a living hell.

Extreme light and sound sensitivity left me in a dark and quiet room all day. I wore earplugs, earmuffs, and sunglasses in the house, and sometimes my skin would hurt so badly that I couldn’t be hugged. Gastrointestinal distress became a norm, and I experienced subsequent weight loss. By the time I turned 16, I was starting to wonder what the rest of my life would be like, and by the time I was 17, I was down to around 20 “safe foods,” things like carrots, chicken, flaxseed, cinnamon, and sweet potatoes. My arms would shake as I held a glass of water, and I was so weak that I finally needed to use a wheelchair when I left home for medical appointments, something I had resisted for years. I still remember how scared I felt the first time my mom washed my hair in bed because I was too weak and, in too much pain, to do it myself.

For years, my birthday would feel bittersweet, a reminder of illness more than a time of celebration, but on this birthday, I want to reflect and thank God for three miracles.

First, for the miracle of my life.

Conception happens every day, and we have science that explains what is happening as babies grow and develop. And yet, it is God who is the answer as to why it happens, and it is God who gives life. I don’t want to miss the miracle of what happens when an egg becomes fertilized. From that egg, a wondrous human being, created in God’s image, develops. Consider these words from Mark Batterson,

“Did you know that embryologists have recently captured the moment of conception via fluorescence microscopy? What they discovered is that at the exact moment a sperm penetrates an egg, the egg releases billions of zinc atoms that emit light. Sparks fly, literally! That miracle of conception is a microcosm that mirrors God’s first four words.”

Second, for the miracle of salvation and that God sustained my faith, even in my doubts.

I never thought of salvation as a miracle until I read Miracles by Eric Metaxas, but it is a miracle as Metaxas pointed out. I can neither save myself nor realize my need for salvation on my own. It is only by the power of God that I am saved and that his Spirit now lives within me. And it is only because of Christ holding me fast that I never lost my faith, even when I doubted. That too is a miracle.

"My dear Brothers and Sisters, do you know that sometimes God works a greater wonder when He sustains His people in trouble than He would if He brought them out of it? For Him to let the bush burn on and yet not to be consumed is a grander thing than for Him to quench the flame and so save the bush. God is being glorified in your troubles and if you realize this you will be ready to say, 'Lord, heap on the loads if it is for Your Glory! Give me but strength equal to my day, and then pile on the burdens! I shall not be crushed beneath them, but I shall be made to illustrate Your power. My weakness shall glorify Your might.'” -Charles Spurgeon

Third, for the miracle of healing.

This one has been hard for me to call a miracle. I didn’t just wake up one morning and jump out of bed. I used a walker when I was 18 to regain some strength by standing for one minute, then two, then three, while holding onto it before crashing back into bed. Years later, I'd walk several miles a day, but it was a long process to get there. I didn’t just start eating all the foods that used to make my throat tighten, my skin flush, and my stomach revolt. I found some relief through steroids and later through rewiring my brain. I didn’t just become pain free one day. I worked with my brain to stop sending inappropriate signals.

I worked for every bit of my recovery, and science explained it. God didn't just stretch out His hand, touch me, and make me well. It bothered me when people called my recovery a miracle because it felt dismissive of my hard work and because God didn’t answer my many desperate prayers for an instant healing when I knew He could have. That was still was tender topic that left me feeling hurt and confused as I thought back to my years of being bedridden.

But the main reason I have hesitated to call my healing a miracle is that there are many people, both Christians and non-Christians, who have received the same diagnoses as me and healed the same way, through brain rewiring. When I tell people my story, I want them to realize that if they do the hard work of brain rewiring, a healthier, happier life is possible for them too.

But while in most situations I still don’t call my recovery a miracle because of the more typical usage of the word and because I’m still not completely healed, I would now argue that my recovery is miraculous. A few months ago, I read this by Hannah Anderson, and it changed my mind.

“Now I wonder if the real difference between what is natural and supernatural is simply our ability to know it. Because if God is the God of creation, then all of nature is supernatural. If God is the God of miracles, then the supernatural is the most natural thing in the world.”

I understand the science of how I healed, and my healing is what could be called a “common grace.” But if Hannah Anderson is right, as I believe she is, the only difference between the supernatural and the natural is what we know. God is still the One behind it all.

And so, I’m calling my recovery, along with my life and salvation, a miracle.

I’m also calling the giant trees, the tiny little flowers, and the robin’s nest outside my window miracles. On this my 24th birthday, I am beholding God’s power and rejoicing at what He has done in my life.