Healing through the Psalms 1

Psalm 1

Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked

Or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers,

But his delight is in the law of the Lord,

And on his law he meditates day and night.

He is like a tree planted by streams of water,

Which yields its fruit in due season and whose leaf does not wither.

Whatever he does prospers.

Not so the wicked.

They are like chaff that the wind blows away.

Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,

Nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.

For the Lord watches over the righteous,

But the way of the wicked shall perish. (NIV)

When the psalmist refers to the wicked as chaff blown away in the wind, we judge ourselves as wicked. Illness has blown away our identity, hopes, and dreams and, in fact, our very selves. Surely we brought about our condition because we were not good enough, we made poor choices or we failed to do the good we should. Guilt and blame add insult to injury for the person who has chronic illness. We long to be like the tree planted by streams of water. We want to bear fruit, to be productive. Instead, we wither.


People who are healthy need to reassure themselves that they are the righteous ones and are therefore safe from our plight. They are more afraid than judging. Yet, we feel judged and we judge ourselves. We want to know why and find an easy answer in judgment.


God does not send illness to people. Illness happens. All creation is striving for perfection, but has not yet arrived. No one is perfect. No one is truly righteous. We all fall short every single day. Think about it. If God makes bad people sick, how then, are brutal and murderous dictators living healthy lives?

You are not bad. God is not punishing you. In the desert void created by your illness, God will indeed bring streams of living water. The only thing in the way is the dam that you build out of blame and guilt. Let go of the judgment. Let go of the blame. Let the river flow. You still have much fruit to bear.

Soldiering On

This morning I am reflecting on a young woman who clearly has a chronic illness but her diagnosis remains elusive. As with most chronic illnesses, her health is unpredictable from day to day and even hour to hour. She keeps soldiering on. I did that too until I finally got hauled off in an ambulance.

When we refuse to take the time we need to heal, that is a symptom of denial. When we believe that we are indispensable, that is a symptom of denial. When we say, "I'll be fine tomorrow" without any concrete evidence, that is a symptom of denial.

Part of this irrational thinking is that we have to push ourselves so that we won't let down our loved ones or friends or employers. The truth of the matter is that when we soldier on, we aren't giving our best. When we make promises that our health probably won't let us keep, we are letting them down even more. We create unreasonable expectations and then beat ourselves up for not meeting them.

A good way to find your compass in this situation is to pretend that you are healthy and that someone you love has what you have. What would you expect of them? What would you do to help them? What advice would you have for them? Now, do that for yourself.

Journaling Part 1

Developing a chronic illness and then receiving a diagnosis along with the information that there is no cure. You will be stuck with this as long as you live, or at least for a very, very long time is traumatizing. Invasive medical tests and procedures are traumatizing. Stigma, loss of identity and self-esteem, and a myriad of unpleasant emotions are all companions of chronic illness. You may be inhibiting the expression of this trauma because you are afraid of acknowledging it or because you are afraid that you will alienate people who have to listen to you. In Opening Up: The Healing Power of Confiding in Others, James W. Pennebaker states that, “actively holding back or inhibiting our thoughts and feelings can be hard work. Over time, the work of inhibition gradually undermines the body’s defenses. Like other stressors, inhibition can affect immune function, the action of the heart and vascular system, and even the biochemical workings of the brain and nervous systems. In short, excessive holding back of thoughts, feelings, and behaviors can place people at risk for both major and minor diseases.” You certainly don’t need another disease and you don’t want to make the one you have worse. But you don’t want to drive people crazy as you tell and retell ‘your story.’ You may think that no one wants to be around a sick person. But as you just read, one way or another, the story and the feelings that accompany it have to be expressed. What can you do? You can journal. It’s just as effective as telling, and maybe even more so.

Your journal can be written or you can speak it into a tape recorder. Either way, expressing what is on your mind can help you clarify your thinking and have a profound influence on the way you see yourself and the impact of the disease on your life. When you talk, or write, about the trauma of chronic illness you stop the stress of inhibition and gain insights into yourself.

What if?

I love learning new things. This weekend I had the chance to go to a 10 hour workshop on using video in religious services. My two companions were taking the audio workshop. Early Saturday morning, we made our way to the breakfast buffet. The sausage tasted a little funky, but I thought maybe it was turkey sausage and that accounted for the strange taste. I had a few bites, asked one companion to taste it, and we agreed maybe the sausage needed to go into the circular file! About an hour into the workshop I felt dizzy and headachy and nauseous. I put my head down. Someone asked how I was feeling and I muttered that my head hurt and put my head down again. My team went out to make their 30 second commercial to get people go come to a church work day but I stayed behind, head on the table.

By the time we got to break it was pretty clear that breakfast was on its way back up. Mission accomplished, I felt a tad better but decided to nap in the car for half an hour and then return to the workshop. The leader asked how I was, and I said cheerily, “Well I lost my breakfast and think I will live.” Later, when the groups were editing, the leader dropped by where I was sitting and complimented me on “being a trooper.” I replied, “Well, I have lupus and people with lupus and other chronic diseases are used to feeling lousy, so we just keep going. After all, the alternative is to give up and I am not about to do that.”

When I was at my sickest, I was lupus. Linda ceased to exist. Slowly, over a period of six years, I created a new identity. A small part of that identity includes lupus. I have become something of a one woman lupus awareness campaign. But this was different. I realized that maybe lupus has a little bigger place in who I am that I would like to admit. Tonight is Super Bowl Sunday but I am watching a House Marathon. Football is not my cup of tea, even though Super Bowl is happening just 2 miles from my apartment in Tampa. One of the doctors told a patient that she was letting her illness define her. These two things-what I said to the workshop leader and that line from House-made me stop and think. What if my or your disease got taken away today? How would you define yourself? We struggle through all these stages of loss and grieving to come to a place of acceptance and even transcendence when it comes to disease. Knowing that our condition is forever, we find ways to integrate it into our lives and personalities. I suspect that if we were miraculously cured, we would have to rebuild our identities yet again.

Cure or Healing?

We hope and pray for a cure. We explore alternative therapies. We surf the web and hit the library. We latch on to any tidbit we hear in the evening news that gives even the smallest ray of hope. We want our health back. We want to be healthy “like everybody else.” And we put our lives on hold while waiting for the cure.

Healing is different. Anyone can have it. You can have your disease and be healed at the same time. We are healed when we experience all the raw and painful emotions and let them go. We have a disease and decide to have a life too. Healing empowers us to take responsibility for our health, to value each person and each minute, and to treasure everything we have. Do we still hope and pray for a cure? You bet we do! But we make the most of our lives in the meantime.

Offered a choice between cure or healing, I’ll take healing every time!

Serenity Prayer
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.