1 Peter 1:7 “These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold – though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.”
What is it that I want? It seems that the answer should be super simple and easy to explain. When you have a chronic illness, you should just want to be better. You should want your normal life back. You should want the pain and exhaustion to end. And don’t get me wrong, I do want these things. But at the same time I want to be able to remember these moments in the valley. I want to remember the fear, the doubt, the heaviness of life. I want to remember the gratitude of having someone show up at your door with a meal because even the thought of cooking sends you into despair. The overwhelming thanks of having someone take all four or your kids out for the day so you can get rest. The blessing of knowing that hundreds of people are advocating through prayer for you because your soul is somehow silenced in the burden you carry.
It becomes so easy to forget all of the pain that was heaped upon you over the past days, months, years. It’s like when you labor for hours for that baby. Your contractions seem more than unbearable. You’re not sure that you can take another second. And then, when she is put on your chest it’s instantly forgotten. You’re happy. You’re fine. You’re whole.
Why would anyone want to remember the pain and heartache? Because it’s the pain and heartache that somehow start making you the person you’re meant to be. It’s the agony in the night that brings the relief in the morning. It’s the sorrow that reminds you how much you need a Savior. Someone to reach down and take just an inkling of grief from you.
Why would I want to remember the burn? Because it’s in that fire that I was forged. I was heat up and beaten. I was refined.
So what do I want? I want to be healed…but I want to remember with every ounce of me how it felt. I wouldn’t trade a second of this life if it meant I couldn’t know what it was to need to be saved. I’ll go through that fire over and over again if I have to. If it means that I will come out stronger each and every time, it will not be in vain.