Recently I underwent spinal surgery to remove, repair, and fuse vertebrae in my back that were completely destroyed. I am recovering at home – and listening for that still small Voice. This blog is taken from a personal email I sent to the women who are closer to me than any on the planet. I have revised it a bit to make it more suitable for a public audience. And as I said, I am still recovering, so if you find an error, then, oh well…Feel free to listen in…

 I am filled to the brim this morning with love and thankfulness – for the Lord and for each of you, so while the “glory hole” is full and spilling over, let me tell you that I awoke this morning feeling better than I have in almost two weeks. And I am sure that each of you has helped bring me to this moment.

Last night I slept in my own bed for the first time, and it was fantastic. I was able to get in and out with relative ease, and words can’t describe how good it was to stretch out in comfort and hear my husband Jan breathing next to me. That alone goes a long way in making me feel like life is getting back to normal. I slept for hours at a time, and well, life is good…

As I was getting dressed, my mind was rolling the tape of the last 12 days, and I want to share a few snapshots with you who have become so much “closer than brothers”:

1. Life is hard. There are no ‘get out of jail free’ tickets. It involves pain. Freedom – of all shapes and sizes – awaits us, but the path is right through the middle of that pain. No stepping round to the side. I had pain before this surgery, and I learned to negotiate it – walk a certain way, avoid this, overcompensate for that, drag, drug – and live with the pain. The answer was to repair the damage, and that involves more pain – way more intense pain than before – but this is the path to freedom because the damage has been addressed and submitted to the surgeon’s skill. Freedom awaits.

Freedom also awaits my heart. Pain is used to residing there, and negotiating it can become a way of life. My Great Physician is willing to use His skill to cut away each hurt and set me free. I must be willing to face it and walk through the process with Him. No side-stepping. No overcompensating. Right through the middle. Confession. Repentance.  Forgiveness. Freedom awaits.

2. The surgeon has done his part. My participation is non-negotiable.  I was fortunate enough to have one of the most experienced surgeons in my area perform my surgery. He spent his three or more hours in my back doing what he does best and doing it well. I can already tell a difference. And he is available to me for those follow-up visits. My willingness to work, to rehabilitate, however, will complete the healing process. I must get up and walk. I must rest in a prescribed manner. I must avoid certain movements and activities for awhile. It’s the vital part I am to play. I could never have healed myself, but I can work with my physician to ensure success. You know, the other day I found myself dragging my foot again. Nothing was wrong; I was reacting out of habit. A bad habit. I forgot I could walk whole again.

Jesus has come to bind up the brokenhearted, to set the captives free. He said so in Isaiah 61. He has done that. I cannot set myself free, but when He sets me free, I must be willing to step out of the prison cell and to walk in that freedom. No more limping and tripping over emotional wounds that have been healed. No more leaning on old agreements that no longer define who I am. No more running back to lies that whisper captivity where freedom has been won. There are areas of my heart where the Spirit of God has come and has truly healed. My part is to remember that and honor that and walk in that freedom.

3. In the midst of excruciation, I cried out to Jesus to come and relieve my suffering. (My bowels were mercilessly impacted. Laugh at me or cry with me – it was horrific.) For fifteen hours I begged for relief. I knew that with one touch, God could have removed my agony. Miraculously. Painlessly. He did not. I suffered. My husband suffered while desperately trying to help me. When at last relief came, cries of thanksgiving and praise flew out of my mouth. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t resist it. Love for God filled me. Please don’t ask me to answer for God, to put Him on the bench and demand He answer for Himself. I cannot. All I know is that no matter the suffering, God’s Spirit resides deep inside me. I could have been angry. I could have been bitter or despondent that God did not come to my rescue. What I do know is that far beneath my human suffering resides a Spirit more eternal than me, and He is the reason my faith has not died through all of the heartbreaks I have been asked to carry. It is He who sustains me and not myself.

4. Healing is a process. Healing is not an isolated process. Healing includes community. There is no way on earth I could be doing this by myself. Neither could you. We need each other. I am so glad that I need each of you. For me to fully realize healing, I must allow myself to be ministered to. To finally let go of my intensely guarded privacy and stand naked in need. And when I weakly raise my bare and dripping head, there I find each of you. I am undone.