Hands of the Healer

I've been having a rather apathetic time, lately, in my walk with God. I'm a fluctuater. Inconsistent. I'll have times where I'm singing in my heart over the overwhelming greatness of God and times where I feel so far away that I wonder if I'm really getting anywhere. Now is one of those times.

I just had my wisdom teeth pulled (a lovely experience) and got almost a week knocked out of my normal routine. I'm a stickler for routine, which presented a bit of a problem. I'm also a control freak when it comes to my schedule, but we'll get into that some other time. What's worse than a week of recovery, is that when I went in for my appointment three days ago, I found out that I had an infection in two out of the four incisions.

That really got me. I don't like my health being tampered with. I don't like it at all. Mainly because I envision the worst every time and am convinced that if something bad can come out of the smallest problem, something will.
I also place an inordinate amount of confidence in modern medicine and a doctor's ability to heal. Top that off with the fact that I tend to be a bit of a worrier, and you get the picture. Here I am with an infection in my mouth (gross), a dentist giving me antibiotics and mouthwash, and a description of the worst thing that can happen to me in my present condition. What do I do? Well, besides following the man's instructions to the letter, I start to worry. You can give me every verse in the Bible about not worrying or about trusting in God to work things out, but I'll still worry. But give me one word from a doctor or anyone that what's wrong with me won't be a big problem or it can be easily fixed, and I'll snap out of the worry-rut like a spring.

Last night was especially rough for me. I was frustrated with how slowly the healing process was going. I was tired of the complications. I was sick of the pills and pain and annoyance of not being able to eat normally and  the swelling in my left cheek. I started to mentally gnaw at the problem and (as is my usual course) think of reasons why things were going as they were.

It suddenly occurred to me, after a long, tiring while, that I was placing far too much confidence in man and not focusing on God as the ultimate healer. I had never realized with such clarity before that what was happening to me was allowed by my loving Creator to teach me something that I had been missing in my life. Doctors may do what doctors may do, but without God's healing, I could have a swollen left cheek forever. I'm explaining this all badly, but what I want to get across is how small my confidence in my God is. I always assume that when He holds out His hand to me, I'll get the back of his palm in my face. But last night I realized that that wasn't so. I have a God who loves me and knows what's best. He'll heal me in his time, despite my pills and washes and doctor's orders. My health is not in their hands - it's in God's. And for the moment, I feel content to leave it there.

Here, as an added bonus, is John Waller's song, from which I stole the title of this post.  

'Till next time,
-- Jamie