Day 13: Redemption?

I’m kind of afraid to jinx it, but I think the “plague” I’ve been suffering may be starting to pass. I’m still sick, still weak, but I’m slowly beginning to feel like there might be life after this illness.

I’d like to be able to tell you that it was a miracle—that I prayed like a good Christian and my prayers were answered. But that’s not what happened.

When I first got sick, my prayers for relief were sincere. I asked God to help me feel better, and I think I even believed there would be a divine intervention—that God would reach down from heaven, lift the illness, and reward me for my good behavior.

Not so much. After several days of getting sicker and sicker, despite my pleas for divine help, I started to lose whatever trace of faith I might have had left. I kept praying, but I felt myself going through the motions. The prayers were no longer backed by any feeling or even hope. They were just words.

I kept reading the Bible, but instead of seeing it as a holy book, I found myself resenting God’s cruelty and seemingly unjustified anger over what appear to me to be minor infractions. I hate to say it, but I started to dislike God—at least the God of Christianity, who was letting me down.

I started to think I should abandon this project entirely. I was too sick to do research, too sick to write, too sick to care about religion or truth or anything other than the dim possibility that I might start feeling better someday.

But even at the worst moments, when I couldn’t stop coughing long enough to take a breath and thought that I might actually not survive this sickness (okay, I may be a bit overdramatic), I still had faith—in myself. Even when I don’t trust God, or even fully believe that God exists, I have faith in myself. I do what I say I’ll do. In a world where you can’t rely on anyone, I’ve always prided myself on the fact that you can rely on me.

So I have to finish this project for myself, even if no one else cares. I have to pick up my aching body and my exhausted mind and go back to work—even if it kills me. I’ll make my own miracle if I have to.

Then again, there’s always the possibility that God did help me. Maybe God is just a little slow when it comes to answering my prayers. Maybe this painfully slow recovery really is divine intervention. And, since I have no way to be sure, I’ll do what every good Christian should do: accept it on faith and give thanks to God for his mercy and kindness.

So, in that spirit, I’ll leave you with a quote from Psalm 92:

“It is good to give thanks to the Lord

And to sing praises to Your name, O Most High;

To declare Your lovingkindness in the morning

And Your faithfulness by night,

With the ten-stringed lute and with the harp,

With resounding music upon the lyre,

For You, O Lord, have made me glad by what You have done,

I will sing for joy at the works of Your hands. . . .”

So, thanks, God. Now, I’ve got work to do.