It’s been eight weeks now since I caught pneumonia, and almost five months since it all really began with a severe case of bronchitis, and in a sense it’s finally about over now. I look back on the time with a kind of numb retrospective astonishment. It’s not completely over, because there were complications that the doctor says will likely need treatment for the rest of my life; so that sense of numb shock is not just retrospective. The ongoing problems will probably, in time, become no big deal, but we’re sorting and adjusting treatment plans now, and it hasn’t all settled in quite yet.
At one point for a few days my wife was on the verge of putting me in the car and taking me to the hospital, but that never proved necessary. My instructions from the doctor were basically (1) to live life as normally as possible, but (2) to rest when my body said I needed it. That meant I could get out of the house not at all some days, or sometimes an hour or two a day, or very occasionally more, as long is it didn’t mean driving more than a few miles. It meant wearing down a deep spot in the recliner chair, and when that was too much excitement for me, going to bed for one or two naps a day. I did some light computer-based work from home, and I did a considerable amount of reading and some writing. (I think some of that, as well as some of my excursions to other events, may have been foggier than I would care to admit.)
So now it’s time to turn a corner and return to work. I was at the office yesterday (today was for doctor follow-ups). I spent that time at the office making phone calls, talking with members of the team, beginning to wake up again to life with the rest of the world. The transition is welcome, and refreshing, and yet strange at the same time. All the things that are so important there have lately taken a back seat to just trying to stay alive and healthy; but as that aspect clears up, their importance is re-emerging into my awareness again. It’s like navigating from world to a wholly different one, slowly, pushing through fog to get there.
So why do I share this here? It seems there ought to be something of apologetic or theological significance to draw out of all this. I have already had some things to say on those lines. It has not been a time without some blessings, chiefly in my relationships with God and my family, and there’s certainly been nothing in the experience to shake my confidence in God’s goodness or his provision. I’ve had opportunity this week to put my experience in perspective, by learning of worse troubles others close to me are having: severe turmoil among members of a family I know, and even the killing by gunshot of a friend of one of my daughter’s friends. (It may be that those things are compounding the sense of shock I now feel.)
I guess my point is that even though on this blog I major on apologetics, ethics and cultural issues, that’s not what it’s all about. These are important things, interesting and valuable to write about, often crucial in many ways, but hardly the only things in life. Depending on how one defines theology, it’s not all about that either. Defining it broadly, theology touches everything at all times, because God (and our view of him) touches everything. Defining it more narrowly, in terms of polemical debate, for example, it’s never insignificant, but sometimes what matters most is just knowing God and experiencing life as one of his children. I’ve done a lot more of that lately than usual.
I had a spell of serious illness earlier in my life, during college and for a while afterward. I had to take a rush trip to the emergency room one night, just before exam week in my sophomore year. When the doctor said she was admitting me to the hospital, I turned to my roommate, who had driven me there, and said, “Would you mind bringing me my Bible?” The doctor cried out in horror, “No, no, you’re not going to die now!” (I’m laughing now as I recall it.) I said calmly, “I know that,” and told her that I actually like reading the Bible even when I’m quite healthy, thank you very much.
I’ll get back to my more usual topics again, but first I want to get this on record. The goodness of experiencing God is something I haven’t figured out how to convey very well in blogging. I wish I could communicate it better. “Taste and see that the Lord is good,” says Psalm 34. I’ll echo that now: he is good, in times of sickness and struggle as much as in times of health and success. I am very, very grateful for the greatness and goodness of God, and I’m growing to love him all the more.
Thank you again to all of you who’ve been praying for me!
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And here all I prayed for was your immediate physical health.
Luckily, even when we pray poorly God knows our real needs.
Thanks for this encouraging post.