Hush, Listen, Obey

Your personalized health plan Part 2

Ironically, the afternoon I wrote this, my internet got shut off. Don't pay your bills, lose communication with the outside world. That's the "real" world kids. So, I got a ride with my roomy to Panera this morning and can finally post the conclusion to that rotten cliff hanger I left you all with several afternoons ago. I shall not apologize though; the story would have been incomplete prior to today. 


Within days of flipping God my middle finger, He responded by bringing me Jeremiah. After months of friendship he bashfully started telling me about healings he saw and participated in at the Lighthouse. Then he told me to watch Finger of God by Darren Wilson.

If you don't feel like you can hear God clearly just yet, watch listen and read as much testimony as possible. Fortify your faith. Here's the thing, you do hear God. It just takes faith to believe you do. And testimony builds faith like steroids build muscle (without the creepy side effects).

Neti-pot.
Day 4. 

Fast forward to three years ago, I told God I believed he was The Healer. Of both the world and myself. And then I declared, to God and whoever else was listening, that I would under no circumstances take medicine again.

As though my heart and guts had ears I heard (roughly, as it's hard to translate spirit language into English), "Agreed. Now, be ready. You will be tested."

A few months later I laid hands on my mom during a migraine. She was healed.

A couple weeks after that, I got my first migraine. I thought I would die. I spent the morning in a steamy shower and in prayer. And as I toweled my hair dry, God showed me an irony in getting my first migraine after healing my mom. I laughed, and was instantly healed.

Later, I would discover my only food allergy: fresh figs. Four horribly painful experiences and a failed (and expensive) doctors visit later, instantly healed. Twice, because I ate half a fig before I remembered not to.

The day we returned from our honeymoon type thing, Jeremiah and I shared the experience of concession-stand-hotdog-enduced food poisoning. That one, we did not get miraculously healed from. But we didn't die (test passed).

Dozens of ailments have swung bats and fists my way. A few I endured and walked away healthy without a doctor or medicine to speak of. A few were miraculously healed by prayer - either at the hands of others or myself.

I've laid hands on nearly every person I know. Most of them have been healed as well. Every one of them walked away feeling warm and cozy inside.

Despite these awesome confirmations of Dad's love, presence, and desire to heal, I'll admit I have a seriously hard time getting healed myself. I don't even like the words "getting healed" or "hard" in the same sentence. As far as I understand my conversations with Dad, we are already healed. Christ's work is finished.

 Dad is not making us sick or keeping us sick for any reason. Health is part of our Christly identity. Dad gave us the command to heal the sick, and in so doing gave us the power and authority to get it done (Matthew 10:8)

But it doesn't always happen the way we'd like or expect. And sometimes we pray and pray but remain sick. Sometimes, it seems really frackin' hard to step into the wholeness and health that is our eternal identity.

The past week and a half has been dreadful. It started with the most intense migraine I've yet experienced. It lasted a full 24 hours, through my final shift at Mud Bay Coffee. I couldn't think straight enough to wage any "spiritual warfare" or speak any in depth prayer. I spoke in tongues (or muttered gibberish) for a few minutes, and when I stopped Dad said take some aspirin now, and Advil in 4 hours.


Until then, I saw taking medicine as an act of unfaith. But I was certain I head Dad so I did as I was told, and that was the end of my three year, no medicine streak. But I consoled myself by thinking I'd go four years without it next.

Roommates had the same idea.
Day 3.

Two days later I felt mucus creep in and fill my sinuses. With the mucus came a sinus headache almost on par with that migraine, which lasted for two straight days. My skin ached, I barfed, and slept day and night.

I'd been chugging Emergen-C and water, I prayed and battled and worshipped. Tried everything to get healed, but this thing was relentless. By the third night, my body was sore from being in bed so much. At 3:30 a.m.  I woke and remained wide awake. Frustrated and exhausted, I finally stopped trying to get healed and told myself "Hush, listen."

And Dad showed me how we'd already begun to fill the Rx he designed for me. The things I'd been doing in order to get healed, He showed me, I was doing in response to His direction. That's a relief, I said. So why am I still sick? 

I remained awake and miserable until 8 a.m., during which time Dad reminded me of how gross I thought neti-pots were and suggested I get one. So I did. And for a couple days I felt human. I did some yoga, and Dad showed me the story arc for this post.

But then my internet got turned off, and by my first day at my new coffee shop, the mucus and headache were back. Full force. For five entire days I've been unable to breathe or think. Finally, in an act of desperation I took some more medicine. And it helped.

In a temporary moment of clarity, I realized that Dad had quite possibly prevented me from posting Part 2 on purpose. So I asked myself what purpose that could be. And then realized I was asking the wrong person.

Hush, listen, obey. That's what Dad told me to do, that's what I've suggested you do. Now dad was asking me, "Have you done this?"

I had to think. I wasn't sure. So I unrolled my yoga mat, sat cross-legged with my Bible open, and meditated. Dad took me to a few passages, I read something about Moses and a veil and the Spirit trumping the law. But it didn't seem relevant. So I did some yoga, and when I was finished, decided to go to the health food store by my house.

The man there exuberantly suggested I buy a bottle of "Bio-Active Silver Hydrosol" and start spraying it up my nose. I agreed.

That night, I slept soundly for the first time since my sinuses first clogged. I woke up, unrolled my yoga mat again, and sat with my Bible. Almost immediately, Dad suggested I take my own advice and start listening to testimony. I thought for a moment about where to search for testimony to hear, and Dad said "An old standby should do the trick." I opened iTunes, and played a podcast from Bill Johnson at Bethel Church on March 17, 2013 (Jeremiah's birthday).

As I listened, I realized I have in fact been hushing, listening, and obeying. I could tell, because Bill was repeating the things I'd written for this blog and conversations Dad and I were sharing. I hadn't, however, been nurturing my faith. The podcast was testimony not of healing miracles, but of my ability to hear Dad. That I couldn't respond with confidence when Dad asked "Have you been doing this," suggests to me now that I was lacking faith.

I've felt amazing for two days now.

Hush, listen, obey. Nurture your faith. Take some testimony pills if you need them. You are no mere human, let Dad show you how super you are.