When teaching any group of children, beware of taking notice of a scrape on a single knee, because EVERY child in the class will then want to show you their very own “boo-boo,” creating a deeply competitive situation of “my scraped knee is bigger than yours.” Even among adults, stories emerge about gruesome accidents, huge scars from surgeries, and of course, among moms, the horrific accounts of childbirth.
For the past month and a half, I have struggled with itchy, red, watery eyes. And, it seems, everyone had a diagnosis and a cure for me. Many advised me of their own battles with ongoing allergies, infections of various types were pointed out, and one person even suggested a possible fungus (ugh!) I tried everything from over-the-counter ointments and antihistamines (“that’s ragweed, for sure,” one pharmacist insisted, “it’s really bad this year,” as she sold me a $15 bottle of tablets). I tried buying some new eye makeup in case the old stuff was contaminated, occasionally ceasing to wear makeup at all, using a different cleanser and moisturizer for my face, and purchasing non-allergenic laundry detergent. All to no avail. My eyelids continued to grow worse. Last Sunday I could no longer wear my contacts. I had tried everything.
I sat in church, wearing glasses with an obsolete prescription, trying to look natural while I could not decipher the words of the hymns and trying to focus on the platform. Oh, LORD, what can I do about my eyes? I prayed.
Almost immediately, I felt God impressing upon my heart, “Did you ask Me to heal them?” I had heard the well-meaning advice of others, I had researched rare eye diseases on the internet, but I had not done what would seem obvious. I had not laid this situation before the LORD.
And so, I did. I prayed that God would heal my eyes. Needless to say, there was not a lightning bolt from the ceiling nor a sudden choir of angels in the aisle visible only to me, but on the way home, my husband said out of the blue, “did you try changing to a different contact solution?” It seemed a simple and obvious fix, but one we had not even thought of before. That’s it, I thought, the answer to my prayer.
But the next morning I woke up, thinking that my eyes felt so much better …until I caught a glimpse of them in the mirror. “Who are you kidding?” I said out loud to no one but myself. I humbly called the eye clinic and within two hours I had seen the doctor and had a prescription in hand. As I was leaving the clinic, holding open the door for an elderly woman, a banner in the foyer caught my eye. I had to read it twice, before I realized that the words were woven together in an effort to make sure it was taken as a complete single thought.
The
GOD
Physician
HEALS
Works
The Physician Works, God Heals. I prayed and God nudged me to see a doctor who could help me. I just should have prayed about it weeks ago. Within hours, my eyes found relief. Just a couple of days later, no problem at all. Going to God should always be my first response, not my last resort.
We just need to cry out to Him, lay our difficulties – physical and otherwise - before Him, and be sensitive to His leading. He cares more than we can know. He heals sore eyes and broken hearts. He restores in ways we cannot fathom.
For I will restore health to you,
and your wounds I will heal,
says the LORD.
Jeremiah 30.17
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