I’d Rather Be Leaning On Jesus Than Falling On My Face
It’s been 31 months since I first heard the words Young Onset Parkinson’s Disease. I had known something was wrong for months but was not prepared for the moment the doctor on the computer screen would say “I’d like you to bring your husband in the room if he’s available.” Time stood still. And then the words, “It appears you are exhibiting symptoms of early onset Parkinson’s disease, and I’d like to order some testing.” I nodded slowly, trying to process the information. I don’t remember much else in detail. I think they call it shock. A few weeks later, the testing confirmed my diagnosis. It didn’t seem real. The months following were hard. So, so hard. I remember spending so many days in a fog, just trying to grasp the reality that I had been given a diagnosis of an incurable lifelong degenerative disease at the age of 40.
Since that day, I have learned a lot about this disease. Perhaps one thing I was most unprepared for was the fact that the simplest of tasks would eventually become very challenging. I can still remember the first time I broke down in the middle of Zaxby’s because it felt like I was trying to cut my salad up with two left hands. I’ve now added toothbrushes, scissors and mascara to the list of random objects that can make me cry.
The list of things I once took for granted before my diagnosis seems to grow a little with each passing day. For instance, I lived over 40 years never giving a second thought about walking across the floor. Now, I am hyper-aware that my right arm doesn’t swing when I walk, I stumble if I don’t consciously pick my feet up rather than shuffling them, and if I stand up or pivot too quickly, I just might fall on my face. Who knew one day I’d be working so hard just to keep my balance?
Life can be like that, too. One day, you’re strolling along without a care in the world, and the next day, you’re holding on to the handrails for dear life! Inevitably, we encounter trials that shake our foundation, and if we’re not careful, we forget that we have an enemy who would love nothing more than for us to lose our footing.
If you know me personally, you may know my family is currently in a season of transition, and after many years of full-time ministry, my husband is no longer serving as a Pastor, and I am no longer a pastor’s wife. My family recently experienced the trauma of pastoral termination -where we were forced to leave a thriving ministry that we loved in a matter of days. My husband not only lost his job and our sole source of income- we lost part of our identity. Our routine. Our community. We spent weeks grieving the loss of friendships and relationships and repeating the same question over and over… How did this happen? I remember feeling so confused and alone one evening when a friend texted me an article from an organization called Pastor’s Hope Network and told me it sounded like what we had just been through. As I read it, I wasn’t sure how to feel. Part of me felt oddly comforted by the knowledge that we were not alone, that this had happened to other families like mine. The other part of me felt profound sadness that such experiences are common enough in churches to warrant articles and dedicated organizations. (If you are unfamiliar with the process of a forced termination, you can read the article here and read about another pastor’s story here.)
I’m not going to sugarcoat it, the past two months have been hard. We have cycled through every emotion imaginable as we navigate our new reality. In Hebrews 12:2, the writer likens our spiritual walk to running a race, but if I’m honest, this season has felt a lot less like running and a whole lot more like clawing our way to the finish line. It’s been hard not to question God and pound my fist, wanting someone to validate my feelings of aggrievement. It’s been a season of grieving and growing, learning and leaning.
Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,
hebrews 12:1-2
I still get tempted to focus on what I’ve lost- through both my diagnosis and our current circumstances -but if I look hard enough, I see a lot of important lessons there in the shadows of the challenges, trials, and heartaches. And what I’m beginning to see is that it isn’t so much about the trial as it is what the LORD is teaching me in the midst of it all.
He’s teaching me:
- He is Jehovah-Jireh, my provider (Genesis 22:14)
- He is Jehovah-Shalom, my peace (Judges 6:24)
- He is Jehovah-Nissi, my banner of victory (Exodus 17:15)
- He is my Shepherd, I lack nothing (Psalm 23)
I’m learning that this race will have obstacles and things that trip me up. But I’m also learning that the secret to running well isn’t what I encounter along the way, it is Who I encounter that really matters.
looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
Hebrews 12:2
I’m learning that unexpected journeys often lead to unfamiliar places, and it’s in those unfamiliar places I find myself longing for my Savior. I’m learning that no matter how uncertain or uncomfortable this journey gets, I can remain steady because I’m anchored to the One who is faithful and can never fail.
Friend, if your journey has led you somewhere you hadn’t planned on going, can I encourage you to keep trusting Jesus? Remember, it’s not where we are or where we have been that matters but where we are headed! Keep pressing on. ⚓
Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful. – Hebrews 10:23
…but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, 14 I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. – Phillipians 3:13