38 Sermon Illustrations on Sickness

Mark Bjorklund was high school football player in St. Croix Falls, Wisconsin, developed heart disease. Mother Grace told him, "God will take care of you." Family got closer, but Mark's heart deteriorated and he needed a transplant. Town raised money for his treatment, $80,000 raised. Got transplant (had to jump off riverboat where prom was being held) and recovered fast enough to give valedictorian speech at high school.

#254

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A pastor's "letter" to a doctor explaining the holistic approach to medicine. Six aspects of healing are given.

#816

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The role of sacrifice in the Old Testament:

HOLY CLEAN UNCLEAN

profane ----> pollute ---->

----> SIN and INFIRMITY ---->

According to Leviticus, sacrificial blood is necessary to cleanse and sanctify. Sacrifice can undo the effects of sin and human infirmity. Sin and disease lead to profanation of the holy and pollution of the clean. Sacrifice can reverse the process.

The ritual for lepers is a recapitulation of the process by which Israel had been made holy. Sprinkling blood with a hyssop branch recalls the passover ritual and also the ordination of Aaron and the ratification of the Sinai Covenant. At Sinai the whole nation had become holy. If later, as the result of sin, an individual member of Israel became unclean, he had to reenact the processes of sanctification. He had to be born again into the community by blood and water (cf. John 3).

In May, 1983, the “Chicago Tribune” ran a story about a young man from North Manchester, Indiana. The article had a photo that shows him as a slim man in his early 20’s, with neatly trimmed hair. He is standing in front of a building at Grace Theological Seminary, where he was taking classes.

In the article David Gilmore tells abut an illness of his 15-month old son, Dustin, which began in April 1978. At first the child came down with flu-like symptoms. The Gilmores took him to their church and the pastor prayed for him. Their church believed that faith alone heals any disease, and to go elsewhere for help — like a doctor — shows you lack faith in God. So they followed the church’s advice and only prayed for their son. Over the next few weeks they prayed faithfully as his temperature climbed, prayed when they noticed he no longer responded to sounds, and prayed harden when he went blind.

On the morning of May 15, 1978, the day after their pastor preached an especially rousing sermon about faith, the Gilmores went into their son’s room. His body was a blue color, and still. He was dead. Again they prayed, for their church also believed the power of prayer can raise the dead. But Dustin Gilmore stayed dead. An autopsy revealed the infant died from a form of meningitis that could have been treated easily.

Gilmore made his story public after 5 years of silence because he personally knew of two other children who died in similar circumstances. According to the “Tribune,” 52 others have died in five states because of this church. This was back in 1983. More have died since then, even in Ohio [where I was preaching at the time]. ABC News reports that women in the church who give birth are 900% more likely to die, than the national average. Children are 400% more likely to die. [above from Christianity Today, 11/25/83, pp. 14ff)

Most of Jesus’ miracles were healings. There is no record of him NOT being able to heal someone (though once there was a two-stage healing). Jesus considered healing to be an important part of salvation, because to him salvation involved the whole person. He also promised that his followers would have supernatural power (John 14:12).

Pentecostals argue that Jesus had the power to heal sickness and he passed this power on to his disciples. Since he gives us this power, it is NEVER God’s will for a Christian to be sick. Since it is always God’s will to heal Christian, something must go wrong when he doesn’t. The stock answer is that you lack faith. A little more faith, and you’ll get your healing. Jesus encouraged people to have more faith, but he never put the burden on them that some Pentecostal Christians do. They use expressions like, “confession brings possession.” This means that once you pray for healing, you should believe you possess it at that moment. Some churches teach that you should believe you are healed, even if the symptoms continue. This goes beyond “blind faith” to a faith that hallucinates about things that don’t really exist. In my opinion, this is tempting God.

The tragedy is that some Christians are never healed, no matter how hard they pray. Joyce Landorf suffered from a condition known at T.M.J., which causes paralyzing pain in the jaw and face. No medical treatment has helped her. And yet as she thinks about all the aspect of her suffering, she mentions one source of pain that is more troubling than any other — judgment from other Christians. They tell her to confess her sin, or exercise more faith. Their proud condemnation hurts her worse than the physical pain itself.

Pentecostals bring out some valid points from the Bible, but I think much of their doctrine goes too far. I accept the healings Jesus performed in the Bible. These were real miracles, and were essential to his ministry. One thing to bear in mind, though, it that part of the reason Jesus performed healings was to show them what the Kingdom of God would be like. He was giving a preview of the millennium. The book of Revelation says that in the millennium * God will wipe away all tears, pain and death. When Jesus died on the cross, he made sure these good things would someday happen. But their’s no guarantee we’ll experience it right now.

Jesus himself experienced pain and death. Paul had a thorn in the flesh, which was probably an illness. And in Philippians we read about Epaphroditus, who was sick almost to the point of death. It wasn’t because he sinned, but because he was doing the work of Christ. Paul, who had as much faith as any of us can hope for, fully expected Epaphroditus to die. Instead, God healed him. It wasn’t necessarily due to someone’s faith, but due to the mercy of God.

I believe in faith healing. If God wants, he can heal anyone. He often does it because someone has prayed with faith. I also believe healing can come by more ordinary means and this kind of healing depends as much on God as any other. Our own bodies have natural healing mechanisms which God has created. God has also given us wisdom so we can understand the body and assist it. This is why doctors can heal with surgery and medicine. Paul himself prescribes medicine in 1 Timothy 5:23 when he tells Timothy to use wine because he is sick so often.

God can heal by normal means, or by raw supernatural power. But he doesn’t have to. When Pentecostals say it is always God’s will to heal people, they are jumping the gun. The proof of this is found in 1 Corinthians 15:26. According to the Bible, the ultimate sickness is death. This verse says the last enemy to be destroyed is death. In verses 51 and following, it says death is destroyed for Christians at the resurrection. Until then, it may be God’s will for us to be sick and die. I’ll believe otherwise when I see a 140 year old Pentecostal.

There is only one kind of healing I can guarantee. God is always ready to heal the sickness of sin. The cure is to repent and ask God to forgive you through Jesus Christ.

#4331

* [… or is it after the close of the millenium?]

Health was actually one of the things that helped the church grow. How?

Picture this: you're in a city of the first century AD Roman world. Except for a few buildings in public commons or wealthy houses and spas, there were no sewers -- unless you counted the narrow mud walks they considered roadways. There were no flush toilets. No refrigerators to keep food fresh. No plastic wraps to keep dust off the food. Soap, at least as we would recognize it today, wasn't available. Dead animals (including the human kind) were an everyday thing, leaving a ripe odor in the air most of the time. Intestinal worms were common. Water was kept in large jars or barrels which did not move, keeping the water stagnant so that, at normal temperatures, germs would breed in it. If you've been in any of the shack cities around the major cities of Latin America, it's all too familiar -- but you couldn't tame it with modern medicine or modern packaging, for those did not exist. Plagues were common, sometimes killing as much as one-fifth of a city's population.

Now, drop into that scene the kind of Christianity that we see in Acts or in Paul's letters, or in some of the pagan Roman accounts of the Christians of their day. Watch Christians turning over their income into a common pot to share for those who need it. Christians nursing people's infections and sores. Christians seeing to it that people were fed. Christians refusing to engage in social behaviors that made the health problems much worse. Christians who cared enough to bother doing the little things that would make for a cleaner, healthier place. Christians whose faith made them care enough to be responsible citizens in a putrid environment. The early Christians' caring didn't make them immune from plague and disease (though their exposure to the germs of others may have made them more resistant, long-term). They didn't pretend that it was so. They just didn't let it defeat them. No one else could say that.

What does this mean? The ancients who lived in the cities knew that their world was horrible, and even more so when they saw these Christians give them little glimpses of something much better. Thus, the supportive caring of the Christians became something people wanted to have. It could mean extra years onto their life, less disfigurement, and just feeling better all around. Most importantly, the caring was a consistent match to their message: a message of hope, of a strange sort of victory that even the sword could not achieve.

Health was certainly not the only thing Christianity had going for it. Not even close. But remember that it was in the cities where Christianity first took hold. It was a big part of the reason Christianity grew. Perhaps the same thing can be true today.

I was standing on my front porch one recent Saturday enjoying the sights and sounds of a beautiful morning when I heard it. I had heard the sound before, but I realized something for the first time: the faint, musical sound of wind chimes indicated a storm was coming.

Springtime in Texas means storms. One of the worst tornadoes ever to touch down in the United States tore a path through Moore, Oklahoma, just a few hours north of here three years ago. The F-5 tornado had winds of 360 miles per hour. I had never seen such devastation. A tamer tornado hit Fort Worth two years ago, nearly destroying several skyscrapers.

A storm blew through my life last May. My father, in tremendous pain and deep sorrow, took his own life. I was devastated. I spent months questioning God's existence, battling guilt and looking for reasons to live. Fortunately a counselor, family and friends helped me survive. While God didn't answer my questions as I'd hoped, I learned some important lessons.

The bad news is a storm is headed your way. Maybe not this week or this month or even this year. Maybe you're in one right now. But sooner or later, Jesus warns in John 16:33, an F-5 is going to blow through your world, and when it does, take cover.

In the worst storms you go numb. Your memory is gone. (Amid the storm I was in, I could not remember the reasons God created us I taught in my Sunday school class only weeks before.) You have little energy. You feel lost, isolated, separated from God. So how can you survive life's storms?

My first suggestion is watch for life-giving reasons. Put a note on your refrigerator that says, "If God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it." Sunsets remind me that the Creator loves me. 1 Kings 19 says God allowed Elijah to gripe and complain, and then he gave him a reason to live: "There are 7,000 others who have not bowed the knee to Baal." This removed his sense of loneliness.

Perhaps God has a message for you today: I am with you. Perhaps his message for you is from the parable of the lost sheep: you have a father who will seek you when you are lost. Isaiah 42:3 says he will be gentle and merciful when we are weak, injured and not very useful.

Second, look for resources. A friend gave me a book I highly recommend: "Where Is God When It Hurts?" Numbers 11:16-17 tells us God provided helpers for Moses. 1 Kings 19:5-13 says God himself ministered to Elijah. God usually uses us to minister to people, but sometimes he supernaturally touches us.

God's resources may be difficult to see in storms. In "The Hiding Place," Corrie ten Boom told how she and her sister complained to God about the fleas in their barracks. Only later did she discover that the fleas kept the guards out which allowed them to pray and have Bible studies.

Don't be a Lone Ranger. Embrace loved ones and friends. Proverbs 18:1 says, "He who separates himself seeks his own desire." To Moses God sent 70 men to help him. To Elijah God sent Elisha to minister. To David God sent Jonathan and a band of loyal soldiers.

Leave a record of your journey to encourage others. I had to get away, so I went to the Rocky Mountains. On the trails I climbed were markers called cairns, stacks of rocks people had left to show the way. They testified that others had made it and encouraged me that I could make it too.

If you see someone else in a storm, look for your role. A well-respected psychiatrist once said the best cure for depression is to roll up your sleeves, cross the railroad tracks and help somebody. Hebrews 3:13 tells us to encourage one another day after day lest anyone be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin.

The Bible makes clear that God loves us perfectly, he knows what storms are ahead of us, and that, with time and tears, he will see us through. In Romans 8:35-39 God assures us that neither trials nor storms nor persecution can separate us from his love.

When the apostle wrote 1 Peter 4:12-13, he was aware that Nero was arresting Christians, covering them with pitch and using them as living torches to illuminate the imperial gardens. Even so, Peter was still able to write, "Rejoice, inasmuch as you are partakers of Christ's sufferings."

I confess I did not rejoice in or for my storm, and while I can write about it, I still can't talk about it. But once I made it through, I was able to rejoice in God's promises and in how he used the pain.

2 Corinthians 7:10 says one reason God uses storms is to draw people to himself when they otherwise would not respond to him. One of my former coworkers developed Lou Gehrig's disease eight years ago. I went to visit this big burly man about a year later. He was confined to a wheelchair and could barely talk. Remarkably, he said how grateful he was for the disease because it led him to faith in Jesus. I pray for his widow and daughters that they too will come to know Christ.

The topic of the Dec. 23 broadcast of NBC's "Meet the Press" was lessons learned from Sept. 11. Host Tim Russert asked First Lady Laura Bush why she changed the Scripture on the White House Christmas card to Psalm 27:8 ("...I believe I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.")

"Because I think that's what happened," she replied. "I think we saw a few people commit a horrible crime, but we saw so many people showing the goodness of the Lord. ... I've actually been very comforted by the families. ... All the people that we see on television, the widows, the widowers, the ones who are decorating the Christmas tree by themselves this year for their children without their spouse."

We have been blessed by watching their response to this deadly storm, she said. Psalm 65:8 says, "Thou dost make the dawn and the sunset shout for joy."

Have you ever thought about what it takes to have a beautiful sunset? Obviously you need the sun, but only when there are storm clouds can you have a majestic sunset. That means someone is getting rained on.

My prayer is that the Son would shine through our responses to the storms that blow through our lives, painting a beautiful picture of God's love and faithfulness to the people around us.

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Porter is director of Public Relations at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth, Texas.

"[Luther] did not despise physicians, indifferent as they were in those days, and called them 'God's menders (Flicker) of our bodies;' but he preferred simple remedies, and said, 'My best medical prescription is written in John 3: 'God so loved the world.'"

-- Phillip Schaff

I have puzzled over the artificial separation in our theological heritage of the "natural" world from the "spiritual" world, and especially our dulled senses to the truly horrifying amount of violence which is seen at every point in nature. That violence comes home to human beings, and particularly on the mission field, in the form of crime and terrorism, but especially in the form of the tiny terrorists of rampant and dangerous disease.

Sure, Christians along with others have been wonderfully active in curing or treating disease, even in the prevention of disease. But our theological heritage begins to stumble at the question of our declaring war, in the Name of Christ, on all disease, and seeking the total eradication of all disease-causing pathogens. Why? Yet, along with a widely acknowledged new understanding (of DNA and all that) we have now inherited vast new opportunity and unacknowledged new responsibility.

This has been long in coming. Certain scholars have recently pointed out that Augustine, 1600 years ago, was the one who prominently failed to understand disease and violence as something 1) not only within God’s sovereignty, since "He has not ceased to rule from the galaxies to the atom," but 2) essentially the initiative of a superhuman, evil person.

Reacting against Manicheanism, Augustine went too far in theologizing that it is good enough to think merely of a sovereign God who in some sense sends all harm and suffering, and not also to fight against the works of a Biblical Satan whose destructive intelligence differently explains violence and suffering in nature.

It makes a difference. When the famous theologian, Jonathan Edwards, sought to defeat smallpox, the pastors of Massachusetts warned him that in doing so he would be "interfering with Divine Providence." When he tragically killed himself tinkering with the newly-developed vaccine, they assumed that he was fighting against God, who thus had to kill him.

I have come to believe that my wife might not have died of cancer, Robertson McQuilkin’s wife might not have been knocked out by Alzheimer’s disease for the last twenty years, John Wimber might not have died of heart disease, if if if if!!!! Christian believers had properly and biblically taken seriously a search-and-destroy mission for the pathogens producing these diseases.

God could have healed these dear people, but maybe He has expected us to draw some conclusions and “declare a war” on tiny terrorists as well as big ones. The small/invisible terrorists attack and kill more people every day of the week than were put to death by the collapse of those New York city towers. In a year they torture and kill 365 times as many.

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French playwright Moliere once uttered this curious line: “Nearly all men die of their medicines, and not of their maladies.” [1] Musician Tori Amos has asserted something similar. In one of her songs she muses, “She's addicted to Nicotine Patches/She's afraid of a light in the dark...”

Interestingly, both artists are known for exposing the hypocrisies of society. Through satire, Moliere sought to amuse but also to instruct his audience with the peculiarities of human behavior, while Amos seems to divulge life as she sees it, through her poignant, often angry, lyrics.

Certainly, artistic observation of humanity can rouse insight and inspire an inward look at our own lives. But do these artists communicate a common truth about the human condition? Perhaps they do. We have all known people who seem blind to their own malady, people who prefer their pain to change. Yet I believe there is something that communicates these observations and other complexities of human behavior even clearer and more accurately.

I believe it was Abraham Heschel who once explained that Scripture is not man's theology but God's anthropology. Truly, there is much that can be said about the convincing proofs for the reliability of Scripture. But as Malcolm Muggeridge has stated, one of the most convincing of proofs for the reliability of Scripture is the irrefutability of human depravity. The Holy Scriptures are absolutely unique in their capacity to describe with divine accuracy the human condition from which we all arise. And often, that God knows us far better than we know ourselves is displayed in the form of a question. To study the great questions posed in Scripture is a remarkably convicting study in human nature and behavior.

Chronicled in the fifth chapter of the Gospel of John is one such example. The chapter is an account of Jesus' interaction with a paralytic man sitting beside a pool. It was commonly believed that when the waters of the pool stirred, an angel was present and anyone who entered the water was healed. We are told that the man Jesus approached had been ill for 38 years. The scene is one of desperation; we can only imagine how many years had past as this man watched and waited, leaving each day exactly as he came. Yet Jesus approached this dismal scene and posed the oddest of questions. He asked, “Do you want to get well?”

Does he want to get well? The question seems redundant. And yet, the man, bound by illness for 38 years, does not reply with the resounding “yes!” we might expect. In fact, quite significantly, he doesn't even answer the question. Clenching his paralytic identity, he explains his condition by blaming those around him.

Jesus' question pointed to something deeper in this man's heart. Do you want to get well? Has your medicine become your malady? Do you now prefer your pain? Through Christ's interaction with a paralyzed man, we are shown that our true illness reaches beyond our physical malady; we are shown a truth common to the human condition.

Seldom do we know the depths of our own illness. But there is One who does, One who calls it into question and points to the way out. Do you want to get well? Christ asks. The great hymn, Joy to the world, says it all. “He comes to make his blessings flow, Far as the curse is found. Far as the curse is found.” [2] The Lord has come! Let every heart prepare him room. Let us receive him as Master and King.

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1. Moliere, La Malade Imaginaire.

2. Isaac Watts, Joy to the World!

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Copyright © 2003 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

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Mark Lye seemed to have the perfect life. He played 18 years on the PGA Tour, winning tournaments on three different continents, before launching a successful television career. But at age 50, a battle with cancer helped him realize that all the success was meaningless apart from a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

Lye's path to salvation began in the 1980s when God brought several Christians across his path, including fellow golfer Steve Jones. Though Lye was largely focused on material concerns at the time, he remembers feeling a certain curiosity about Christians.

“I remember Steve Jones in the early '80s,” Lye recounted. “He was a Christian. I said, 'Man, what's going on?’ He said, 'Christ is my Savior.’ I said, 'Well, I can't believe that's the way you feel.’ He said, 'Yeah, maybe you'll understand someday.'“

Through two decades of golf, Lye remained unconcerned about spiritual matters. At one point, he and his wife, Lisa, began attending church. But, for him, it was merely an activity unaccompanied by any real commitment to Christ.

“I'd been only scratching the surface for a long time,” he said. “We had been going to different churches for a few years, and we decided to go to the First Baptist Church of Naples [in Florida] and commit there, but it was only a surface type of commitment to me. Even though I had thought in a religious way a lot of times, I'd never really committed or anything.”

Life seemed to be under control for Lye. He began a golf broadcasting career in the early 1990s and enjoyed a comfortable lifestyle for the next decade.

Then tragedy struck in 2002. Lye was diagnosed with cancer, and doctors informed him that the prognosis was uncertain. Broken and frightened about his future, Lye journeyed to the empty sanctuary of First Baptist Naples the next day and committed his life to Jesus Christ.

“The day after I got my analysis from the doctor ... I just went to the sanctuary at First Baptist and I just said, 'I know You've been watching me, God. And today's the day.’ I'd always thought about it for a long time, but I said, 'This is the kick in the pants that I need, and I'm just going to commit full boar right now from this day on.'

“I finally admitted to Him and myself that I had made so many mistakes. You never think you're a sinner. You think that you've done everything right, but you're just kidding yourself. ... You start looking and you start reading things, and you say, 'My gosh, I've been a bad sinner for all this time.'

“I told God ... 'You can do what you want with me, but I'm there for you.’ I just made a personal commitment that day, July 3 [2002], and that was it,” Lye said.

In the months immediately following his commitment to Christ, Lye underwent major surgery and several rounds of chemotherapy. During that time, he found comfort in his newfound faith and looked to fellow believers for encouragement.

“Going through the daily rigors of the chemo and all that stuff, my sanctuary was ... in church,” Lye said. “I would just go there, just hang out and look forward to Sundays. Even though I wasn't physically able to go into the sanctuary and worship with the masses, I would lay out on the couch and watch pastor [Hayes] Wicker through the TV monitors” in the hallways.

In addition to his physical struggles, Lye also struggled with how to tell others about his commitment to Christ. But some advice from friend and 12-time PGA Tour winner Paul Azinger convinced Lye to make his Christianity public.

“A few days after I made that commitment I called [Azinger] up and told him and he encouraged me along and gave me some guidance and told me what to do as far as announcing it. With my Golf Channel job, it was kind of like, 'Do I want anyone to know this? That I have cancer, that I'm a Christian?’ He said, 'No, you come out with it,'“ Lye said of Azinger's counsel.

Lye's physical condition has improved greatly during the past year. Cancer treatments have proved so successful that Lye has resumed both his broadcasting with the Golf Channel and his golfing career on the Champions Tour (formerly the Senior PGA Tour). Much to Lye's delight, there is a network of more than 50 Christians on the Champions Tour who meet weekly for Bible study and fellowship.

“All kinds of guys and their wives are passing the Word,” he said. “Not that many on the regular PGA Tour, but there are a lot of [Christians] on this tour, the Champions Tour.”

Eighteen months have passed since Lye's initial commitment to Christ, and now his life is completely transformed. Becoming a Christian, he reflected, helped brought a new perspective on all of life.

“I'm getting on the right track,” he said. “It's a daily journey ... but I'm trying to figure things out a little bit step by step.”

Lye noted, “My jobs don't seem as life or death as they once did. My health is not such life or death as it once was. I can now deal with life ... and know that there's a big picture out there past what we're experiencing here.”

To Lye, “The golf, the job ... they're things. The important things in our lives right now [for] my wife and myself are living like Christians and doing the right things and professing to others and being involved and doing what we can. It's just a whole different way of thinking. It's a whole different way of existing.”

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New research shows that arguing with your spouse or partner may do more than emotional harm — it can affect the physical healing process, too.

The Early Show medical correspondent Dr. Emily Senay says researchers at Ohio State University has been looking at the effects of stress on the immune system for years.

They've designed a system that wounds the body by creating blisters on the arm. Using what they call blister chambers, the researchers carefully control the wounds, and monitor the blisters' healing by taking samples of the body's biological immune response and chemicals involved in the healing process, Senay explains.

A study in the Archives of General Psychiatry looks at 42 couples who've been married an average of 12 years. The blister chamber was administered twice during two months. The first time, the couple discussed a supportive, positive topic. But the second time, they were urged to talk about an area of disagreement with an emotional element to it.

The researchers found the stress of arguing for a half-hour slowed the body's ability to heal from their wounds by one day. If the couple's relationship was routinely hostile, the delay in that healing process could double.

The researchers say sustained higher-than-normal levels of certain immune system chemicals called cytokines have been linked long-term inflammation implicated in a variety of illnesses, including heart disease, osteoporosis, arthritis, type 2 diabetes, certain cancers, Alzheimer's disease, and periodontal disease.

The researchers add that the findings provide important recommendations for patients facing surgery, and show why it's important for people to be psychologically prepared for surgery. They suggest there's now enough evidence for hospitals to implement stress-reducing strategies before surgery. Such stress reduction techniques might lead to shorter hospital stays and a reduced risk of infections among patients, Senay says.

Incidentally, she says the scarring from the blisters was minimal and, as she put it, all in the name of science.

The false teaching that evil and sickness are illusions has appeared through the ages under different guises. Years ago, some of my ancestors, living in relative isolation in a rural area, were led astray by someone who passed through their town and taught a particular brand of this heresy. They became convinced that true believers should not visit a doctor. To do so would be to acknowledge the reality of sickness; if they ignored it, they thought they would triumph over it and it would go away. One family member adhered so faithfully to this belief that he lost his sight in one eye. A doctor could have saved the eye, but this man trusted that as long as he did not believe in the sickness, it could not harm him.

I believe that going to the doctor is a sign of health, though to say so may sound paradoxical. A healthy person takes note when something in his or her body has gone wrong, and they take the action to diagnose the ailment so that it can be cured.

In contrast is the person who tells himself that as long as he denies that something is wrong, nothing will be. Denial allows an illness to progress untreated. Although a person with cancer may feel fine, the longer they let their disease go untreated, the less chance they will have of surviving it. And though going to the doctor, being admitted into the hospital, and going through chemo and radiation may all make the patient feel sicker than they ever felt before visiting the doctor, these are actually steps back toward health.

The same is true of diseases of the soul. People who have avoided church for years fear that if they go back they will FEEL sinful. Of course, this isn't about church, but something much more personal. As long as they can silence their conscience, they can sustain the belief that they are a good person. But if they allow their conscience to be awakened by the truth, they will have to face their own guilt. Yet just as the attempt to avoid illness by avoiding the doctor proves futile in the end, the refusal to face one's guilt and need will not make them go away.

Going to church or reading the Bible will not make you sinful, but they may make you realize that you are sinful. If so, you are not alone, for God's Word teaches that we are all infected with this cancer of the soul. John, one of Jesus' closest friends on earth, wrote, “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.” This may sound like bad news, but it is the doctor's diagnosis before he recommends the cure. He goes on to write, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:8-9).

We can hide in the dark and continue to tell ourselves that all is well. Or we can step into the light and admit that we are dying, that we need something outside ourselves to give us life. Martyn Lloyd-Jones wrote, “The love of God is a holy love. It expresses itself not by condoning sin or compromising with it; it deals with it, and yet does so in such a way that the sinner is not destroyed with his sin, but is delivered from it and its consequences....”(1) As a physician, Lloyd-Jones knew that to treat an illness, one must not deny it. God is too kind to let us stay in our sin. To those who want to be well, He says simply, “Come.”

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1. The Plight of Man and the Power of God.

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Copyright © 2006 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

Does God heal today? No other conclusion is possible for Christians who hold to the inerrancy of Scripture. He can do it.

But is it always the will of God to heal? If I am not healed, is it because of my lack of faith? If I am sick, is it because of sin or perhaps even demonic activity in my life? There is much confusion in the church today over these matters.

What does the Bible say about healing?

By God’s own declaration He is ultimately responsible for health or sickness, life or death (Deuteronomy 32:39, Job 5:17-18). In the Old Testament God afflicted believers and unbelievers -- sometimes in punishment and sometimes to illustrate a divine message. Remember that the plague upon the first-born of Egypt (Exodus 12:29-30) was punishment for Pharaoh’s disobedience to the instructions of God. Recall the experience of Ezekiel who became a widower in the midst of his ministry (Ezekiel 24:16-18). His wife died by the hand of God so Ezekiel could become a model for mourning for the nation. As he grieved over his wife’s death, so Israel was to sorrow over their sin and God’s judgment on the nation.

God not only afflicted in the Old Testament, He also healed. Many different techniques were employed. Moses prayed that Miriam would be healed of leprosy (Numbers 12:13) and she was. Nebuchadnezzar, a pagan king, was healed after God afflicted him according to the time schedule God promised (Daniel 4:28-37). Naaman, also an unbeliever, was healed after dipping seven times in the Jordan River (2 Kings 5:1-14). The children of Israel were healed of poisonous snake venom in the wilderness when they looked at a brass serpent placed on a pole in the middle of the camp. There does not seem to have been a consistent method used for healings in the Old Testament.

Some illnesses in the Bible were the product of personal sin, although not all sin resulted in affliction. Aaron apparently was not afflicted after making the golden calf (Exodus 32:35). On other occasions the one who sinned received God’s physical discipline. Miriam was smitten with leprosy (Numbers 12), and Korah died after his rebellion against Moses (Numbers 16). Even one who did not sin was sometimes the subject of God’s affliction. Most prominent was the child born to David and Bathsheba (2 Samuel 12).

And in some cases, those closest to God suffered. Job -- referred to as a blameless man -- was afflicted severely, and then God healed him (Job 42:10). Isaac (Genesis 27:l) and Jacob (Genesis 48:1) became ill and died.

The Old Testament experiences revealed saints who suffered, some with afflictions sent by God. Healing methods varied, unbelievers were healed, some sinners went unpunished, and innocents suffered. What is significant is that Satan was insignificant in these accounts -- save the story of Job -- and faith requirements were never mentioned for healing. It all lay in the sovereignty of God!

At no other time in human history were so many people healed from so many different diseases in as short a time as during the earthly ministry of our Lord. His healing ministry was unique and unequaled to this day. His miracles were many, but He did not perform them indiscriminately. He did not always heal everyone who needed healing (John 5:3-8).

All but three of Christ’s healings were instantaneous. No recuperation was needed; full health returned immediately. None of those healed lapsed back into illness. The three healings that were delayed involved minutes only, but the people were totally healed (Mark 8:22-25).

The physical presence of Jesus was unnecessary for the healing to occur. With a thought or a spoken word healing was accomplished. A centurion’s slave (Matthew 8:5-13), a Canaanite’s daughter (Matthew 15:21-28) and the son of a Capernaum official (John 4:46-53) were healed in this way.

Jesus also used various methods. Since all healing was done by the power of God, there was no magical or sure-cure way to bring healing. He touched (Matthew 8:15), He spoke (John 5:8-9), the sick touched Christ’s garment (Matthew 9:20-22), He used spittle (Mark 8:22-26), and He plugged a man’s ears with His fingers and placed spittle on his tongue (Mark 7:33-35). He even anointed with mud (John 9:6).

Nowhere do the Gospels attribute all sickness directly to personal sin. In two accounts, Scripture teaches us that sicknesses occurred so God could receive the glory (John 11:4, 40). Those miracles were beyond question. Even the enemies of our Lord could not deny them (John 11:47-48).

The disciples also healed individuals and this continued into the first years of the church. Personal faith was not a necessary requirement for healing (Acts 3:1-10). Sometimes the faith of others was honored (Luke 5:18-20). Again, the record in Acts reveals that a variety of methods were used in these healings. Those healed were immediately restored to full health. And unbelievers were also healed (Acts 3:1-10, Acts 8:6-7). As in the Gospels the faith of those who were ill was honored (Acts 3:16). And even the Sanhedrin could not deny these miracles (Acts 4:15-17).

Even though all sickness wasn’t the result of sin, sometimes God afflicted individuals because of personal sin (Acts 5:5-10) Sometimes God healed people without the healer being present (Acts 19:11-12). These supernatural healings were signs to attest to the authority of the apostles as revealers of truth (Acts 2:42-43).

As the church matured there was a noticeable decline in divine healings. In Galatians 4 Paul was ill. In 2 Corinthians 12 Paul was afflicted. In Philippians 2 Epaproditus was ill. In 1 Timothy 5, Timothy was sick, and in 2 Timothy 4, Trophimus was ill.

The conclusion is obvious. Healings were occasional in the Old Testament, overwhelming in the Gospels, frequent in Acts and negligible in the remainder of the New Testament.

What can we learn from all of this that applies to us today?

First, all healing is from God. We may see a healing process where an individual is restored to health over a period of time. This is the most frequent expression of healing today. However, we are concerned in this article with miraculous healings. This is when God sets aside the normal laws of recuperation which he has set in motion and instantaneously heals and restores to full health.

Second, it is simply not true that God’s will for every Christian is for them to remain perfectly healthy. God works in the midst of all circumstances for His glory and for our good.

Third, there is no one method that is always used when God does move with miraculous healing.

Fourth, God is ultimately responsible for all of life and death.

Fifth, when God does heal it is always undeniable. Biblically no one questioned the fact of the healings, even the enemies of the Christians.

Sixth, Personal faith was not necessarily a prerequisite for healing. Often faith was honored, as with the woman who touched the Savior’s clothes (Mark 5:34). But sometimes no faith was involved at all (Acts 3:1-10; 9:32-34).

Seventh, there are times today when God acts in such a manner that only His direct intervention can adequately explain the physical healing. He still heals today, and always in a way that is consistent with His nature. We should pray for His healing touch on our lives and trust Him to do what is His will for us.

Rebecca McLaughlin is a Christian writer who is being treated for cancer. She wrote:

My guess is most of us are more afraid of physical sickness than some nebulous spiritual kind. Right now, as I await my diagnosis, it’s tempting to feel like the most important question is, “Do I have cancer?” But if Jesus is the Son of God, it’s not. Our most important sickness is spiritual. We’re all terminally ill. Without a doctor sent by God himself, there is no hope.

Melinda Pinkerton was on the cross-country track team when her coach noticed the 14–year-old’s ankles turned inward when she ran. She recalls the date, Nov. 18, 2002, when her parents received the results of her MRI.

“They told me about the results; the big NF2 [Neurofibromatosis Type 2] word scared me. My first thought was that I was going to die,” Pinkerton wrote. “A month later, Dec. 18th, I had surgery to remove a grape-sized tumor that was squeezing my spinal cord flat.”

Neurofibromatosis Type 2 is not a form of cancer, but is an incurable, genetic nervous system disorder. Today, the 26-year-old Pinkerton has about eight major tumors on her brain, three major tumors on her spinal cord and 40 or 50 smaller tumors on the spine.

Despite the crippling disease, she savors life and is disturbed when others facing medical adversities choose to end their own lives, even under the guise of legal physician-assisted suicide.

Among notable cases, terminally ill cancer patient and right-to-die advocate Brittany Maynard ended her own life Nov. 1, 2014, at her Portland, Oregon, home. She took a lethal prescription administered under Oregon’s Death with Dignity Act.

Pinkerton’s father Mark Pinkerton gave up his medical practice to spend more time with his daughter. He now works as a professor of pharmacy at Cedarville University in Cedarville, Ohio. He said Melinda was shaken by Maynard’s choice.

“We were watching the news one night ... and it was top news about how Brittany took her life, and after that went off, she just broke [into] probably the hardest tears I have seen her have at all with this disease,” Mark Pinkerton said. “She was just devastated. She was broken.”

Melinda marveled at everything Maynard could still do when she took her life, such as travelling to the Grand Canyon and Machu Picchu.

“And she’s like, ‘Wow, I’ve done a lot of things myself that Brittany’s robbing herself of even. But at the same time, [Melinda] was trying to comprehend how can you do these things and come home and swallow a pill. And I said, ‘Well, if you look at that level of activity, and when is the last you had activity of that level? You’re 26 now, I would say probably your freshman year of college, if not junior [or] senior year of high school.”

Neurofibromatosis Type 2 sufferer Melinda Pinkerton worked with limited use of her hands and arms to paint this abstract acrylic that hangs in her father’s office at Cedarville University in Cedarville, Ohio.

Today, Melinda is deaf, cannot walk without a walker, and is losing her sight, balance and the use of her hands. But she maintains the blog, MyLifeWithNF2.com, where she recorded the memory of learning her fatal diagnosis. She writes frequent, encouraging blogposts and emails with the use of two fingers; maintains friendships and worldwide connections; prays for many and less frequently, paints acrylic abstracts.

“I have a peace,” she blogged Jan. 13. “It did not come without tears and questions and frustrations. Even last night I had more, but as I got in bed and reflected on the past few days -- grand days of living to the full -- I was happy. And in decisions I have made, I am happy and in this peace, I am happy.”

Neurofibromatosis Type 2 attacks one in 40,000 people, either passed genetically or spontaneously mutated. Melinda Pinkerton’s biological father, whom she calls “Daddy Cory,” died of the disease at age 24, weeks before Melinda’s mother Bonnie learned she was pregnant. Pinkerton married Bonnie before Melinda’s second birthday.

“The doctor told my Mom that I would have a 50% chance of genetically inheriting the NF2 disease. She had the option to abort me, but chose to keep me, as she trusted God that He had special plans for my life,” Melinda wrote on her blog. “I know it was not only special plans for me, but also for my Mom and sisters. Daddy Cory and Mom had both graduated from the same college, one year before a special man named Mark –- or ‘Mr. Mark’ as my sisters called him. That special man is now my Dad.”

Melinda has lived longer than expected. Her numbness is so severe she could burn herself without feeling it, her father said. She deals with headaches, neck and back pain, preferring to forego pain medications that cause drowsiness.

“She said I would just rather deal with pain than trying to stay awake all the time,” her father told Baptist Press. “And with where these tumors are it has caused her bowels to not work. And so there’s a lot of health conditions there she has to fight with each day.”

She went through menopause at 23, her pituitary gland doesn’t work, and her eight-to-10 daily prescriptions cause side effects. Her skin is thin and fragile from corticosteroids; she bruises easily because of blood thinners.

But she professes joy and strength in the Lord.

“I think what’s amazing with Melinda is she has an incredible ability to just laugh at life and laugh with life,” her father said. “I told her you can giggle in my house any time you want to, and she will. She just can find joy in little things.

“She’s terminal. How long, they won’t even try to guess. She’s lived longer than we thought. You kind of wonder how she’s living day to day. A couple of times we thought we’d lost her already.”

“Every month, in fact lately every week, we can see her condition declining.”

She encourages others to face life’s challenges and make the most of the blessing of life.

“She just said the other day that really if you had no hope, you didn’t know who God was, things like suicide, you can’t really blame anybody,” Pinkerton said. “But [we need to] realize that there is a better way than to live in such despair, to realize that it’s God that gives you that hope and joy and significance to live each day.

“She just said you know, you have to face the challenges. Keep doing what you love to do, even though it is hard and you have to find another way of doing it. Face the challenges as they are for what they are.”

Christians especially should encourage the terminally ill to appreciate all of the time God gives them on earth, said Pinkerton, who worked 20 years as a primary care physician.

“I’ve had many times I’ve seen what could have been a worst-case scenario death process, and it ended up being a beautiful thing. They were able to spend last minutes with family. The family has gone through the grieving process, the gift that this person gave their family through this prolonged illness, is the gift of that letting go, that grieving process that you work through, so when they do die, the grieving process has already been worked through for the most part.”

Doctors should be committed to helping people live, instead of speeding their death, Pinkerton said.

“It bothers me when our health situation seems so bad, we just want to brush it off and let it go,” Pinkerton said. “And the doctors even say, ‘Well, what do you want to do, take a pill?’ Well no, it’s time to go find a new doctor.”

How the story of Jesus’ triumphal entry — and my chronic pain diagnosis — helped me trade in false hopes for a truer picture of God.

________

The December sky was low and gray on the morning I woke up and could not feel my hands. I wrung out my arms, hoping the sensation would return. I shook them violently to no avail. Rushing to the bathroom, I held them under hot water. Then frigid water. Neither helped.

Within days, prickly tingles crept up my arm and spread to my shoulders. The numbness turned into pain that burned, ached, and stabbed. Even my fingernails throbbed. A neurologist performed tests using electrified needles inserted into my muscles and shock pads placed on the skin. Nothing appeared abnormal.

Next came a series of scans and a litany of tests for minor problems like vitamin deficiencies, major illnesses like Lupus, and life-threatening conditions like multiple myeloma. Each brought excruciating waiting and worry. I was, after all, a writer whose livelihood depended on having control of his hands. All returned negative.

My symptom list grew with each passing month. First came nerve twitches in my legs, arms, back, and face. Then a paradox of sapping fatigue and insomnia. Severe panic attacks struck without warning, and I broke out in excruciating shingles from the overwhelming stress. The slightest stressor — a large crowd or a long line, common in New York City, where I live — left me bedridden.

The revolving door of physicians left me without a diagnosis and drowning in an ocean of medications: anti-inflammatory drugs, muscle relaxants, nerve pills, pain killers, antiepileptic drugs, sleeping pills, and a healthy dose of Lexapro and Xanax to keep me from a full-on mental break. I grasped for anyone who would help, scheduling appointments with cardiologists and chiropractors, naturopaths and nutritionists, holistic doctors and Hasidic Jewish healers.

My life blurred. My ability to work was reduced to a meager three hours a day. My social life disintegrated, leaving me in depths of loneliness I’d never known before. Everything familiar looked strange. Pain tormented me at every moment. I awoke to pain, worked with pain, dined with pain, and fought for sleep despite pain’s presence.

I was helpless like Job, brought low before God out of sheer desperation. When he was faced with his own pain, he could only bow before the Divine and listen to the wind. The difference between us is that once Job submitted, God restored him. I had no such luck. I was incarcerated in the prison of my own body.

And just like that, I joined the more than 25 million Americans who struggle with chronic pain disorders, many of them idiopathic in nature. As a Christian, I believed that God was sovereign, which made my chronic pain journey also a voyage of divine disappointment.

Come on, God. You know my story. You were there when my neighbor abused me as a child. You know how awkward and alienated I felt throughout adolescence. You know how I’ve struggled with anxiety and depression my entire adult life. I’m starting to see sunlight, to get a little relief, and then this happens? Really?

This is the edited version, actually. I spoke words to God that the MPAA would bar from a PG-13 movie.

The Dopamine Roller Coaster

On November 9, 2016, New York magazine published an article on the science of disappointment. The article opened by stating the obvious, which is that “the feeling of being let down is actually one of life’s toughest emotional experiences.”

Of course, most people don’t need a magazine article to know that this is true, that disappointment hurts. A spouse or partner, that person who made butterflies dance inside you, cheated on you, and then hid it. Your colleague smeared you in a meeting to steal the promotion you earned. The child you prayed over since birth stormed out of the house, swearing to never return. A forgotten birthday, a withheld apology, a bucketful of lies from someone you’d die for.

Disappointment is an unavoidable part of being human, but as the New York magazine article noted, the experience is physiological, not just emotional. The feeling of disappointment is linked to your levels of dopamine: the brain’s “pleasure” chemical, released during positive life experiences. The dopamine systems in your brain don’t just react to what you experience; they attempt to predict what you want or need.

Here’s how it works: Your brain generates expectations about the future. Often these expectations are based on what you want. Something you perceive as good has happened in the past, so you begin to expect it will happen in the future. Before it even happens, your dopamine levels begin to rise in the rush of anticipation. Then, when that good thing actually occurs, you get a double shot of dopamine.

Here’s the rub: Life doesn’t always give us what we expect. People fail us. People hurt us. People lay us on the altars of their own selfishness. When you don’t get the desired result — researchers call this a “reward-prediction error” — not only do your dopamine levels fall; they plummet from the heightened level generated by your expectations.

Now, instead of receiving a double shot of dopamine, you receive none. You crash doubly hard: “Not only do you not get what you wanted,” the article states, “but you also feel the displeasure of having been wrong.” The point? “Losing hurts even worse ... when it’s not what you were expecting.”

Rising Expectations

In the valley of my disappointment, I discovered a gospel story that’s a portrait of what it looks like when an entire community suffers a reward-prediction error. It’s known as the “triumphal entry,” and it is usually told on Palm Sunday in most churches.

Dust was swirling across the scorching desert as a rebel-Rabbi and his band of co-conspirators climbed up to Jerusalem. Rather than slip into the city unannounced, Jesus did something strange. He told a couple of his disciples to go to a particular place and retrieve a donkey for him to ride into the city.

Jesus turned his face toward a city that kills prophets, stones truth-tellers, and executes troublemakers. With a deep sigh, he steeled himself, mounted the humble beast, and clip-clopped toward the Kidron Valley. When the Jerusalemites saw Jesus approaching, they erupted in excitement. They began stripping off their cloaks and spreading them across the road. The crowd whacked branches off trees and laid them across Jesus’ path. As if this weren’t enough pomp and ceremony, the crowd broke into a Passover song.

All four Gospel writers include this narrative, each with their own twist. Matthew’s version says that the procession turns the whole city into “turmoil” (21:10, NRSV). The Greek word for turmoil is the root for the English word seismic. The city trembles as Jesus approaches.

The story begins with great expectations, which are easy to miss. Jesus has just been in Bethany, close to Jerusalem, where he resurrected his friend Lazarus from the dead. Lazarus’s eyes have barely adjusted to the sunlight, and his story has spread throughout the region. Hearing this story, the crowds react, their brains bathed in dopamine. They begin to predict how God will act in their lives based on the way that God acted before: He will intervene again. He will work a miracle. He will expel the occupiers and resurrect God’s people in God’s city.

The palm branches signaled the crowd’s high expectations, a symbol largely lost on those of us who are separated from the culture and chronology of the story. Jewish history told of a man named Judas Maccabeus, a freedom fighter who entered Jerusalem 200 years prior to Jesus. As he approached, people waved palm branches and sang hymns. When Judas finally arrived, he defeated the Syrian king, recaptured the Temple, expelled the pagans, and reigned for a century before the Romans took back the city.

God had saved his people from an occupier once before when an uncommon man trotted into town. With a new sheriff seemingly on the horizon, their dopamine systems kicked in, and they began predicting another takeover. Their song declared, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” (Matt. 21:9).

This is a song that Jews sang at the beginning of Passover. It’s taken from Psalm 118, the most quoted psalm in the New Testament. It tells of an enemy swarming like bees, driving the psalmist to the brink of destruction. Then God sweeps in with a mighty hand and wipes out the enemy. The word Hosanna means “Lord, save now.” They are asking Jesus to drive out the enemy army and restore order.

Even the donkey plays a role in elevating expectations, as it harkens back to an image from Zechariah 9:9, a prophetic passage that many of these Jerusalemites would have heard before. “See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey.”

That night, around dinner tables across Jerusalem, the Jews likely discussed the day in hushed voices. “Could this be the king we’ve been waiting for? He was riding a donkey after all.” By the time Jesus mounted that donkey and descended into town, their dopamine systems would have been in overdrive.

‘Resentments Under Construction’

The crowds that day aren’t much different from us. I’ve spent my whole life in churches — evangelical and mainline, small and mega, liturgical congregations and those with ear-splitting rock bands. I can’t think of one that hasn’t projected expectations onto God.

Maybe you picture God as a heavenly bellhop whose job is to satisfy your deepest desires. Or perhaps God is a holy matchmaker who will secure you a spouse. Maybe God is a cosmic bodyguard who protects you from harm. Or the world’s best nanny, making sure your children turn out right. Or a divine doctor, healing your every physical and mental ailment. Or a wonder-working accountant, solving all your financial problems — provided you drop off a portion in the church coffers, of course.

People tend to assume that God is the deity they want. All you have to do is snatch up a couple of verses that seem to support your preferred version. Then you spend a few years listening to a pastor reinforce them through selective storytelling. Before you know it, the cement of those assumptions dries, and you begin expecting God to work in particular ways in your life. Not unlike the people of Jerusalem.

This works pretty well, as long as God seems to do what we want him to do. But the moment he doesn’t conform to our expectations, our whole world rattles. A baby is born with a disability. A person you love abandons you for another. A friend dies before her time. The expectations you placed on God ferment into distrust, into disappointment. As author Anne Lamott says, “Expectations are resentments under construction.”

In September 2015, Seth Stephens-Davidowitz wrote an article in the New York Times Sunday Review titled “Googling for God.” He wanted to show how Google search data can tell us a lot about the psychology of the modern age. When it comes to God, many people won’t share their struggles with their faith leaders or friends. Instead, they type them into Google, where they can ask with both impunity and anonymity.

Stephens-Davidowitz sifted through a decade worth of Google searches and found that the most Googled questions about God included these questions: Why does God allow suffering? Why does God need so much praise? Why does God hate me? Why did God make me ugly? Why did God make me gay? Why did God make me black?

A blind man can see the thread binding each of these questions together: disappointment with God.

Many of us — perhaps tens of millions — have a common experience when it comes to spirituality. We expect God to be something and then discover that he is not at all like that. Or we expect God to do something, only to realize that he seems to have his own priorities. In these moments, a tsunami of disappointment comes crashing down.

From Disappointment to Disillusionment

The Palm Sunday story displays the transition from expectation to disappointment in Technicolor. The triumph becomes a trial, and the trial becomes an execution. Jesus entered the city on a donkey, but we know he will leave in a body bag. This is not just a fun parade; Jesus is walking down death row.

Here we have a picture of what happens to a group of very religious people when they feel disappointed by God. At the start, the crowds embrace Jesus with dopamine levels soaring and shouts of “Save us now!” As soon as Jesus turns out to be something other than the savior they expect, their Hosannas morph into “Crucify him!”

Jesus is a king, but not the kind they wanted. He will serve rather than be served. He will die and not be killed. He enters unarmed, waging peace. This makes a larger point that God does not intend to meet our expectations. Instead, he meets our needs.

This type of God makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want vegetables when I’m craving candy. I want a God that satisfies my desires, whether or not those align with my needs. And so it is with all of us. We welcome God into our lives with anticipation, with expectation. We’re laying down cloaks and waving palm branches with all we’ve got. But when God turns out to be someone we don’t recognize, we scatter like smoke in the wind.

One of the most interesting features of this story is how much preparation Jesus does. He lines up everything, making sure to trigger the crowd’s expectations. It’s like Jesus has hired a PR agency, indicating that he knows exactly what he is stirring up.

But why? Is he trying to disappoint them? No. I think he is trying to disillusion them.

The word disillusion has gotten a bad rap in recent times, but it’s a gift God gives with abundance. Disillusionment is, well, the loss of an illusion. It is what happens when you take a lie — about the world, about yourself, about those you love, about God — and replace it with the truth. Disillusionment occurs when God shatters our fantasies, tears down our idols, and dismantles our cardboard cutouts. It occurs when we discover that God does not conform to our expectations but rather exists as a mystery beyond those expectations.

The definition offered by Episcopal preacher Barbara Brown Taylor in her book God in Pain may be the best I’ve seen. She describes disillusionment as the sacred experiences that cut us down to size and remind us of our smallness in this expansive universe. These experiences are often painful but never bad, because they make us shed the lies we’ve mistaken for truth: “Disillusioned,” she writes, “we find out what is not true and we are set free to seek what is — if we dare — to turn away from the God who was supposed to be in order to seek the God who is.”

Ultimately, the triumphal entry is not about donkeys and palm branches at all. It’s a reminder that placing expectations on God based on our wants is a recipe for resentment. But nurturing openness to divine mystery is a framework for faith.

Shedding Illusions

I’ve learned to manage my pain disorder, but it has persisted despite my best efforts. Yet I refuse to let disappointment sever my relationship with God. And over time, I’ve begun to uncover and shed illusions. I’m dismantling mirages I’ve constructed around productivity, identity, and self-worth. No longer can I work 12-to-14-hour days. Or pretend that who I am is enhanced by how much I produce. Or ground my sense of worth in accomplishments and accolades. Or pretend that God will keep me healthy or heal my every ache and pain.

I have traded these lies for a truth: that in times of difficulty, God offers us his presence, not a parachute. This exchange has transformed my disappointment into disillusionment. And disillusion turned out to be a horrible, wonderful gift.

What we experience as disappointment is an invitation to give up holding tight to what we hope is true. To stop trying to cast God in our image. To let God be who God is, not who we wish God would be.

The choice is ours. And who knows? If we decide to step off the dopamine roller coaster, maybe we’ll find ourselves at the foot of a cross, giving up all we have for the One who gave up everything for us.

________

Adapted from Learning to Speak God from Scratch: Why Sacred Words Are Vanishing — and How We Can Revive Them Copyright © 2018 by Jonathan Merritt. Published by Convergent Books, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC.

In May, 1983, the “Chicago Tribune” ran a story about a young man from North Manchester, Indiana. The article had a photo that shows him as a slim man in his early 20’s, with neatly trimmed hair. He is standing in front of a building at Grace Theological Seminary, where he was taking classes.

In the article David Gilmore tells abut an illness of his 15-month old son, Dustin, which began in April 1978. At first the child came down with flu-like symptoms. The Gilmores took him to their church and the pastor prayed for him. Their church believed that faith alone heals any disease, and to go elsewhere for help — like a doctor — shows you lack faith in God. So they followed the church’s advice and only prayed for their son. Over the next few weeks they prayed faithfully as his temperature climbed, prayed when they noticed he no longer responded to sounds, and prayed harden when he went blind.

On the morning of May 15, 1978, the day after their pastor preached an especially rousing sermon about faith, the Gilmores went into their son’s room. His body was a blue color, and still. He was dead. Again they prayed, for their church also believed the power of prayer can raise the dead. But Dustin Gilmore stayed dead. An autopsy revealed the infant died from a form of meningitis that could have been treated easily.

Gilmore made his story public after 5 years of silence because he personally knew of two other children who died in similar circumstances. According to the “Tribune,” 52 others have died in five states because of this church. This was back in 1983. More have died since then, even in Ohio [where I was preaching at the time]. ABC News reports that women in the church who give birth are 900% more likely to die, than the national average. Children are 400% more likely to die. [above from Christianity Today, 11/25/83, pp. 14ff)

Most of Jesus’ miracles were healings. There is no record of him NOT being able to heal someone (though once there was a two-stage healing). Jesus considered healing to be an important part of salvation, because to him salvation involved the whole person. He also promised that his followers would have supernatural power (John 14:12).

Pentecostals argue that Jesus had the power to heal sickness and he passed this power on to his disciples. Since he gives us this power, it is NEVER God’s will for a Christian to be sick. Since it is always God’s will to heal Christian, something must go wrong when he doesn’t. The stock answer is that you lack faith. A little more faith, and you’ll get your healing. Jesus encouraged people to have more faith, but he never put the burden on them that some Pentecostal Christians do. They use expressions like, “confession brings possession.” This means that once you pray for healing, you should believe you possess it at that moment. Some churches teach that you should believe you are healed, even if the symptoms continue. This goes beyond “blind faith” to a faith that hallucinates about things that don’t really exist. In my opinion, this is tempting God.

The tragedy is that some Christians are never healed, no matter how hard they pray. Joyce Landorf suffered from a condition known at T.M.J., which causes paralyzing pain in the jaw and face. No medical treatment has helped her. And yet as she thinks about all the aspect of her suffering, she mentions one source of pain that is more troubling than any other — judgment from other Christians. They tell her to confess her sin, or exercise more faith. Their proud condemnation hurts her worse than the physical pain itself.

Pentecostals bring out some valid points from the Bible, but I think much of their doctrine goes too far. I accept the healings Jesus performed in the Bible. These were real miracles, and were essential to his ministry. One thing to bear in mind, though, it that part of the reason Jesus performed healings was to show them what the Kingdom of God would be like. He was giving a preview of the millennium. The book of Revelation says that in the millennium * God will wipe away all tears, pain and death. When Jesus died on the cross, he made sure these good things would someday happen. But their’s no guarantee we’ll experience it right now.

Jesus himself experienced pain and death. Paul had a thorn in the flesh, which was probably an illness. And in Philippians we read about Epaphroditus, who was sick almost to the point of death. It wasn’t because he sinned, but because he was doing the work of Christ. Paul, who had as much faith as any of us can hope for, fully expected Epaphroditus to die. Instead, God healed him. It wasn’t necessarily due to someone’s faith, but due to the mercy of God.

I believe in faith healing. If God wants, he can heal anyone. He often does it because someone has prayed with faith. I also believe healing can come by more ordinary means and this kind of healing depends as much on God as any other. Our own bodies have natural healing mechanisms which God has created. God has also given us wisdom so we can understand the body and assist it. This is why doctors can heal with surgery and medicine. Paul himself prescribes medicine in 1 Timothy 5:23 when he tells Timothy to use wine because he is sick so often.

God can heal by normal means, or by raw supernatural power. But he doesn’t have to. When Pentecostals say it is always God’s will to heal people, they are jumping the gun. The proof of this is found in 1 Corinthians 15:26. According to the Bible, the ultimate sickness is death. This verse says the last enemy to be destroyed is death. In verses 51 and following, it says death is destroyed for Christians at the resurrection. Until then, it may be God’s will for us to be sick and die. I’ll believe otherwise when I see a 140 year old Pentecostal.

There is only one kind of healing I can guarantee. God is always ready to heal the sickness of sin. The cure is to repent and ask God to forgive you through Jesus Christ.

#4331

* [… or is it after the close of the millenium?]

New research shows that arguing with your spouse or partner may do more than emotional harm — it can affect the physical healing process, too.

The Early Show medical correspondent Dr. Emily Senay says researchers at Ohio State University has been looking at the effects of stress on the immune system for years.

They've designed a system that wounds the body by creating blisters on the arm. Using what they call blister chambers, the researchers carefully control the wounds, and monitor the blisters' healing by taking samples of the body's biological immune response and chemicals involved in the healing process, Senay explains.

A study in the Archives of General Psychiatry looks at 42 couples who've been married an average of 12 years. The blister chamber was administered twice during two months. The first time, the couple discussed a supportive, positive topic. But the second time, they were urged to talk about an area of disagreement with an emotional element to it.

The researchers found the stress of arguing for a half-hour slowed the body's ability to heal from their wounds by one day. If the couple's relationship was routinely hostile, the delay in that healing process could double.

The researchers say sustained higher-than-normal levels of certain immune system chemicals called cytokines have been linked long-term inflammation implicated in a variety of illnesses, including heart disease, osteoporosis, arthritis, type 2 diabetes, certain cancers, Alzheimer's disease, and periodontal disease.

The researchers add that the findings provide important recommendations for patients facing surgery, and show why it's important for people to be psychologically prepared for surgery. They suggest there's now enough evidence for hospitals to implement stress-reducing strategies before surgery. Such stress reduction techniques might lead to shorter hospital stays and a reduced risk of infections among patients, Senay says.

Incidentally, she says the scarring from the blisters was minimal and, as she put it, all in the name of science.

Because of her particular ailment she was bent over and her eyes were always facing the ground. She missed the sky, the birds, and the rainbow. But physical ailments can do far more than bend a back. It can rob us of our livelihood and cause bankruptcy. It can take us away from our families. It can even cause severe depression.

In 1971, in Plano, Texas, a woman by the name of Linda gave birth to a boy she named Lance. She did what many mothers do with boys. She molded his temperament by involving him in a variety of sports. He soon showed an aptitude as an athlete and by the age of 13 his skills were confirmed when he won the Iron Kids Triathlon - a combination of swimming, biking and running. Three years later at the tender age of 16 he became a professional triathlon athlete. When most children were trying to compete at their local high schools, and entering armature competitions, Linda’s boy was making money as an athlete.

He worked hard and sometimes his training would take him to the edge of the state to the Oklahoma border where he would call his mom. Mom, he would say, I’ve gotten too far out again and the sun is setting. Can you come get me? And off she would go riding under the darkening big skies of Texas to pick up her boy in the family car. It was now becoming obvious that he was not going to be a triathlon athlete. But in one of the three skills of the triathlon he was excelling, excelling beyond the skills of men twice his age and experience. At the age of 18 he qualified to train with the U.S. Olympic team in Colorado Springs, Colorado. His behavior nearly cost him his high school diploma but private classes were arranged which enabled him to graduate. He continued to excel in his chosen sport, gaining recognition around the world, and then it happened - news which brought his career to a climatic end.

In 1996, in the middle of a race, excruciating pains forced him to quit. Test revealed advanced testicular cancer which had spread to his lungs and brain. The once-athletic and vibrant young man underwent three operations and began the most aggressive form of chemotherapy. Now, his career was the least of his worries. Doctors said he had 50/50 chance to survive and the cancer left him scarred physically and emotionally. He said the ailment completely changed his life and his priorities. Sickness, real sickness, rearranges life.

Two spirits can afflict us. The first spirit was at work when in the woman. She was bent physically. The second spirit attacked the man, but not physically. He had been attacked by a spirit which crippled his soul. But not forever - Linda's boy Lance is actually Lance Armstrong, the winner of the 2001 "Tour de France."