I sometimes feel a bit like a fraud.
Some of the time – when I climb stairs, or get into a coughing fit which takes 5 minutes to recover from, or can’t eat – it’s clear that I’m not well. But at the right time of day with the right pills, I can sit in a chair and chat to a friend and feel entirely normal. And so when my wife fetches me a drink from the kitchen, or someone else hastens to answer the door, I feel I want to say “No, please, I can do that for myself.” When I ordered a blue badge (a marker for your car allowing you to use disabled parking spaces), I felt that there must be many who are more deserving of one than I am.
But these feelings of wellness and fitness are really an illusion. Normality already includes having to deal with bouts of severe coughing, tiredness requiring multiple naps per day, back pain, and shortness of breath. And, while various symptoms have come and gone (I had oedema in my legs, then didn’t, and now do again but less strongly) the general trend is clear if you look dispassionately. The fact that I can have short periods where none of the symptoms are bothersome doesn’t mean they aren’t there. So why is my heart so keen to believe that the feelings of wellness are real?
As God would have it, we had a sermon today at The Crowded House, Loughborough (on Romans 3:27-31) which touched on this. The root of these desires is the sin of pride. I want to feel independent, in control, autonomous, competent, normal. That makes me feel good. But God has made us to be dependent beings – primarily on him but also on each other – and to find our contentment in him, not in our health or strength. And it seems he is teaching me to depend on him more, both by having to pray for the strength to make it through each day, but also having to graciously accept the fact that I am ever more dependent on others.
In a verse which has been important to me ever since I was diagnosed 18 years ago, God promises that in all things he will “work for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28). In other words, I have cancer for my own good. Here is yet another way, the latest in a line of many, where God is demonstrating that he is using it to make me, slowly and sometimes painfully, more like Christ, for his glory.