A New You
“But many of the priests and Levites and heads of fathers’ houses, old men who had seen the first house, wept with a loud voice when they saw the foundation of this house being laid, though many shouted aloud for joy, so that the people could not distinguish the sound of the joyful shout from the sound of the people’s weeping, for the people shouted with a great shout, and the sound was heard far away.”
It took me many years, many nights of crying, and healing in many different areas for me to accept my life with chronic illness. Especially considering that I was in my twenties when I first began experiencing the symptoms of my illnesses, I felt like I was missing out on a time in my life that I should be enjoying it boundlessly. My to-do list was expansive - it included going out, going on vacations, and taking big adventures. My joints didn’t let me be great, as they say. Even later, I hated thinking that my life as a new mother, and the early formative years of my son’s life, was limited to what my body could handle. I believed that what I couldn’t do made what I could do less significant.
I’m grateful for the process of navigating through those times. They taught me to prioritize the truly important things, to accept the counsel and comforting of my husband, and to challenge my own insecurities and destructive mentality. Without experiencing desperation, I would not have known God’s love, grace, and mercy for me to the extent that I do now. Certainly, I would not know the power of God’s healing - mentally, spiritually, of the heart, and yes, even physically (as an aside, it’s amazing to me that I now believe in God’s supernatural physical healing more than ever; I suppose the more we know Him, the more we become aware of His sovereignty).
Verses twelve and thirteen stuck out like a sore thumb when I came across them in my study of Ezra. A rebuilt foundation of God’s temple lay in front of the people who had returned from exile. Some shouted with joy at the sight, others - the ones who knew of and had experienced the old temple - cried loudly. We may not know the exact reason why they wept, but we can empathize enough to know that it was from a place of yearning for the past, a deep despondency for the destruction of the original temple in all of its beauty and glory, a reminder of what was once there. Perhaps there was even a touch of self-pity or guilt, a “we put ourselves in this situation” type of thinking.
The parallel of our lives before and after illness to the temple before and after its destruction are unavoidable. Even more obvious is the link to our bodies as God’s temples, destroyed by illness, rebuilt through God’s grace. Just like the Israelites, we have a choice whether we will rejoice or mourn our new temples.
Some of you may be new to this journey of illness or pain, while others may have already settled into your “new” way of life. Some of you don’t have an illness, but have, or are, making transitions into new seasons. The reasons we are in the “new” can vary - perhaps some of us are more like the Israelites in terms of stubbornness and disobedience than we’d like to admit; some perhaps are just rolling with God’s movement and timing. Regardless, there is an adjustment to be made. Our lives are no longer what they once were.
There are still times when I become disappointed with what I can’t do. It’s human to grieve losses of any kind. The one thing that keeps me through and out of the disappointment is knowing that my “new” HAD to happen. I couldn’t stay where I was, including in good health, if I was going to fulfill God’s purpose for me. The “new” had to happen for me, for my family, and for others I come in contact with. Most importantly, it had to happen for God’s glory.
I may whimper but I no longer allow loud crying over what I used to have. I don’t want anyone to have to figure out whether I’m weeping or rejoicing. I want my joy to be louder than all else, because while the destruction and displacement were painful, my new is so much better than my old. Where I had health, I lacked joy, peace, self-confidence, and identity in God. Now, I have all of that plus so much more despite my health, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I encourage you to also consider both your old and your new. What is God doing in the new and how does it compare to the old? What do you miss about your old? What do you have now that you didn’t have before? Do you see God’s hand in your transition? I pray that you see God’s grace and feel God’s love even in the rearrangement of your life. I pray that your rejoicing is louder than your cry, and that your “new” brings you an overflow of peace and joy.