Ten months prior to my healing last May 19 was not really the beginning of my sickness. Over these ten months, my physical body finally collapsed under the weight of many spiritual issues.
It took a lifetime to get that sick. It wasn’t diet or pregnancies or anything else physical, really.
It began slowly, years of whispers from the enemy through other people and circumstances.
There were many rejections over the years that convinced me that I wasn’t good enough. These programmed me to believe that if I just worked harder, did more, was better, prettier, thinner… then I would be loved. Performance began to become a way of life. If I did really, really well and did more than everybody else, maybe someone would notice and love me, accept me, pick me and choose me.
The descent into a life dominated by Fear (yes, I capitalize it because it is an evil spirit and it has a name: see 1 Tim 1:7) began slowly and subtly. The fears produced from a very insecure childhood set me up to not trust, and to fear abandonment. The fear of losing the love I did have was hard on our early marriage. As long as I held on really, really tight, I could control just about everything; or so I thought.
Jesus saved us and it was better for quite some time. Our world was a happy, held together, organized, controlled little world, but not for long. It slowly began to unravel when some pretty horrible and frightening things happened to our family. These were beyond what we could cope with, but we held on as best we could. Severe fear, stress and anxiety began to rule my heart. I didn’t see it. It was all I knew to do to cope.
Years of dealing with a rebellious son and all that goes with that. Giving birth to number four, and then number five, then an emergency ectopic pregnancy. Two 17 week miscarriages that shook my very fragile world and fragile faith. Fear was a way of life now.
We became one, fear and I.
I did go on to give birth to three babies in three years during extremely difficult circumstances with our son. Yes, fear was ruling my mind and heart.
More years of ups and downs with our son, mostly downs, and another difficult, and this time, painful pregnancy.
Looking back, I see my illness had little, if anything, to do with the physical, it was a full on spiritual attack that had amplified slowly over the years. I was totally ill-equipped to see it or handle it.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, I had an incredible relationship with the Lord through all of this. I was just completely and utterly blind and had been taken captive in many areas of my mind by the devil to do his will. ( see 2 Tim. 2:26)
It was a slow fade; a long term plan of my enemy to steal, kill, and destroy my life and each member of my family.
I can honestly say my healing and deliverance was nothing but an awesome display of my Father’s mercy towards us. Our family was spiraling down due to my health. Hope was something that had become foreign to me, by then. As deep of a slimy pit as I was in, I had no idea just how deep and how it was our whole family that needed deliverance.
Last May, when we began to have the Truth poured into our hearts by the bucketful, it was nothing short of MERCY. Slowly, for the first time in many years it was all beginning to finally make sense. Puzzle pieces were finally fitting together.
When my mom tells the story, she uses the word miraculous. While it looked “miraculous” because I was sick one day and healed the next, it really wasn’t a miracle. I reserve the word miracle for things like, someone raised from the dead, a new limb grown where one was not – the miracle of new birth.
No, this wasn’t a miracle, it was simply the power of the Word. Truth. It was the Truth that made me free and continues to make me free. (John 8:32) Once the spiritual lined up, my body lined up. My body didn’t need the healing as much as my spirit needed cleansing (2 Cor. 7:1) and once that happened, once the Fear, the Rejection, the Accusation, etc. was gone, my body began to function like it was supposed to.
Praising our faithful and merciful God for one year of continued health and continued deliverance!
Psalm 30
I will extol thee, O LORD; for thou hast lifted me up, and hast not made my foes to rejoice over me.
O LORD my God, I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed me.
O LORD, thou hast brought up my soul from the grave: thou hast kept me alive, that I should not go down to the pit.
Sing unto the LORD, O ye saints of his, and give thanks at the remembrance of his holiness.
For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favour is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.
And in my prosperity I said, I shall never be moved.
LORD, by thy favour thou hast made my mountain to stand strong: thou didst hide thy face, and I was troubled.
I cried to thee, O LORD; and unto the LORD I made supplication.
What profit is there in my blood, when I go down to the pit? Shall the dust praise thee? shall it declare thy truth?
Hear, O LORD, and have mercy upon me: LORD, be thou my helper.
Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness;
To the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent. O LORD my God, I will give thanks unto thee for ever.
I even lined my box and baskets with the pretty black and white shelf liner, just for the “pretty factor”. It makes all the difference in the world, for me, to have small baskets to keep things in. If I just have one big basket I throw them every which way.
We spent the last week potty training our ‘baby’. What have I learned? WAIT! Wait until they are ready, especially the boys. I have always pushed and regretted it. Not this time. Nope. I didn’t care if he was going to go to college in diapers. Just kidding. One day he decided it was the day and he had one accident the following morning. But not one since! He even goes poo on the potty, which hasn’t always been the case with other children in the family who shall remain nameless. (ahem)
