The diagnosis took less than 10 minutes. “You have multiple sclerosis,” the doctor said. I sat in a stunned silence. Thus began a cycle of grief that included shock, denial, anger, depression—and finally acceptance. I was just 31 years old and had a one-year-old and a three-year-old. I was an active member at my church and the school where I worked. How could this be happening to me?
devastation
The words terminal, degenerative, and debilitating came from the doctor’s mouth. I was devastated. And a quick search on the Web verified his prognosis. My life would never be the same. The truth is that illness, death, and dramatic changes in life’s circumstances never come at a good time.
The next few days and weeks were a blur as my family and I attempted to come to terms with the reality of my debilitating illness. Indeed, my disease wasn’t just debilitating—it was life-changing. I felt that life was over for me. I didn’t want my life to end, but I did want an end to the situation I found myself in. Yet, as a Christian, it was unacceptable to me that these thoughts were even going through my mind.
I recall contacting many friends and family members to tell them of this development in my life. There were tears, prayers, and many silent moments. Often there is nothing one can say that can improve a situation like illness or death.
Many times we try to justify what is happening to ourselves or others. However, this time there was no justifying the reality of my illness. I was in the hospital for seven weeks, during which time I had chemotherapy to decrease the inflammation in my brain. Then I was in rehabilitation to learn how to walk and talk again—something this illness had robbed me of.
How my life changed! I went from avid reader, speaker, and joy-seeker, to being fully dependent on other people to care for me and my family. My lowest point was having to accept being fed by a nurse and given a bath by my mother.
inspiration
The reality of dire illness—anything in the category of pain and hurt, in fact—is never pretty. But I’m stronger now, and I’ve learned how to rely fully on God. The biggest step I took was to accept God’s presence, His warmth, and to keep living.
His words inspired me. I read my Bible. The passage that stuck in my mind was 1 Corinthians 15, which tells of Christ’s resurrection and how without it we are merely people who will die. And for the first time I really understood it. Verse 26 says that “the last enemy to be destroyed is death.” How excited I was to read those words! It’s not that I was dying, and I certainly didn’t want to, but I saw myself facing death. However, in reading the Bible, I saw death as something temporary, a mere impediment to my long-term future. The best part of my life was still ahead!
“I tell you a mystery,” I read in verses 51 and 52, “We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed—in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed.” Wow! Instantly, I was both excited and relieved.
Regardless of illness, death, disease, and disability, I now had a reason to hold on. I was assured there would be an end to death and all the pain and tears that we experience in this life. Knowing this, my disposition transformed from what it was the day of that first diagnosis to something totally different today.
transformation
The entire experience of being so distressingly sick energized my sense of the spiritual. For example, when I couldn’t read—using my eyes was impossible—things I’d read earlier and memorized from the Bible came to mind. I remembered, for example, Jesus’ words that “the thief [the devil] comes only to steal and kill and destroy; [but He has] come that [I] may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10).
Suddenly, I realized that living on this fallen, sin-soaked planet, and despite my circumstances, I had the Source of life.
This didn’t solve my problems or even improve my circumstances. Rather, it helped me begin making sense of them. I hadn’t done anything to deserve what happened to me, which was simply the result of the imperfect world I live in. I’m forced to live with it, but that doesn’t mean I have to be dominated by it.
Satan urges us to blame God for our sickness, hoping to break our spirits, curse God, and die—both literally and spiritually. But such a circumstance can drive us closer to Christ our Savior, who wants us to have life; and not just a temporary, nice life now, but a permanent, wonderful life beyond our dreams with God in heaven.
exaltation
Multiple sclerosis literally mean “many scars.” Learning this made me think about illness, pain, and death—all the realities of life in a sinful, fallen world—in a different way. My scars, both literal and metaphoric, are hidden in my brain and along the pathways of my nerves. Many people’s scars on their emotions and psyches are just as invisible, but no less real. For one Man, Jesus, the scars of sin are quite visible, even today in the perfect, sin-free heaven where He lives. They’re on His hands and feet and side. And they remain as reminders that sin will not impose its suffering on us forever.
While I would never choose to suffer from multiple sclerosis—and would gladly welcome complete healing—I’m grateful for the spiritual lessons this disease has taught me.
