I trust Jesus more than I worry

He looked straight into my eyes. Even though there was much motion going on around us, he never broke eye contact. All day I could feel him looking straight into my eyes. I would always look to him, as well. When I was distressed about what this MS will do to me in the future, he cupped my face in his hands. “I will help you,” he told me.

“Will you heal me?” I asked.

“I will be with you, and I will help you through everything. Trust me?” he asked.

“Yes, Lord,” I answered.

Time passes. The MS gets better, then it gets worse. Then it gets better again. Even though I worry, I hear the echo of Jesus’ whisper. “I’ve got this. Don’t worry.” Even though I catch myself worrying at times, my heart beats with my reply, “I trust you, God.”

More time passes. I graduate college. I get married. New worries arise. Again, I look up into the ever-loving eyes of my Savior. As before, there is motion in the background, but I’m not looking anywhere. Suddenly, Jesus’ face turns into Doug’s.

“I will be with you, and I will help you through it all,” Doug told me. And I know it’s true. Because I trust my Lord, and he’s the one who sent my husband to me.

“What if the MS does something terrible to me in the future? How am I going to be able to handle children someday?” My frantic voice raises. “I can’t even handle myself!”

Jesus talks, and it’s Doug’s voice that I hear. “Read this verse, Matthew 6:34.”

So I do. “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

Doug looks at me with the compassion in his eyes that I know comes from our Lord. “Don’t worry about tomorrow, Anna. There are a million and one tomorrows until you even have to think about taking care of kids. By time that comes, you won’t even be worrying about it! You will just do.”

I nod my head as I pick up my journal, so that Doug can’t hear my conversation with God. I confess to Him my worries. I tell Him my fears. And then I give everything to Him. I even thanked Him for the MS, because I have to rely on God for my everything.

“My power is made perfect in weakness,” God tells me through his word. Oh, how I know it’s true! When I am weak, my God is strong. I asked for help taking care of my body, and he sent me a doctor-husband who is as sold out for God as I am. When my body is weak, God shows his strength through me. How else could I write such words tonight? 😉

Be blessed, everyone!

Anna E. Meyer

The Thorn in my Flesh….A Gift?

It came to me like a light suddenly being flipped on in a dark room illuminated by a night light.  The kind of light that hurts your eyes, but then you can see across the room to the object you knew was there but couldn’t really see with only the night light given its limited illumination.  Multiple Sclerosis is the thorn in the flesh “gifted” me by Jesus Christ.  This “messenger or Satan” (2 Cor. 12:7) that harasses me is a continual reminder that I depend on Jesus for everything.  I depend on him for physical energy throughout the day, for comfort in my despair, for life, for everything.  God uses the “messengers of Satan” to serve us.  In 2 Corinthians, Paul displays this openly.  I have clung to his words, but I have received a new understanding.  I don’t want MS.  It drains me and limits me and causes me to go crazy when I lose feeling in my hand or my leg.  I can’t even describe in words, and it’s not really possible for anyone to exactly understand it, anyway.  But God’s promise remains: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor 12:9).  Back in October, I wrote this post relating my thoughts on this passage (real thoughts and thinkings, people).  When I am weak, then I am strong.  I want it to go away, but the more I ignore the MS tormenting my body, the more it takes advantage of making me miserable.  If you ignore a thorn, stuck in the flesh, it won’t go away.  Oh, why have I not seen this analogy before?

“God showing his strength through weak things was laced all through redemptive history, culminating in the cross” (Bloom).  Oh, man, God is awesome.  His grace is abounding.  Through these thorns, he gives us JOY.  He always is kind of opposite of the world.  I pray that I’ll remember the MS as a gift when I struggle.

The college band I am in is on tour currently, and it is exhausting.  I have been learning what I can and can’t do, and I am so ever thankful for the other people that help out.  I play percussion, and the percussion equipment must be unloaded off the truck and set up before each concert—it’s a lot of work!  I am the door holder, because I know I can do that.  I help pack up, but there are extra hands that help with load up, giving me the opportunity to head back to the bus.  I am so thankful to everyone who is helping the percussion section and me.  I am so blessed by people all over!  Thank you to you who are reading this who have been helping me out as we tour and elsewhere/other times in my life.  You know who you are.  MS as a gift?  Still seems weird, but I’ll try it out.

Anna 🙂

 

Insight sourced:  Bloom, Jon. “Are You Content with Weakness?” (Desiring God)

When I am weak, I am strong.

When I can’t walk, I feel like a FAILURE.  I feel I can’t physically do all I usually can do just fine—I feel like my body is making up an excuse for a cop-out.

When I can’t walk, I feel HELPLESS.  I need people to help me do what I SHOULD be able to do.  I am so thankful for friends who help me.

When I can’t walk, I feel like GIVING UP on everything else, too.  I ignore invisible weakness, and push through other things unseen—but when I am having troubles walking on my own…I’ve reached a bad point.

When I can’t walk, I feel TRAPPED.  Sometimes, I DO have energy, but I can’t do anything about it.  What can I do when weakness of my body restricts me?

When I can’t walk, I feel EMBARASSED.  I’m such a slow walker, trying so hard to lift up my foot enough so I don’t trip on it, and take a step.  The more I can’t, the slower I move.

When I can’t walk, I sometimes FORGET about the Lord, who is lifting me up every moment.  I forget that I’m alive and can have hope for a better future despite this disease.

When I can’t walk, my weakness is VISIBLE.  In my weakness, Christ’s power is made perfect, and I am strong in Him.  FOR WHEN I AM WEAK, I AM STRONG.  Do you see Christ’s power in me?  If not, maybe it’s okay when I can’t walk well, so that His power may shine through me!

Anna 🙂