By Erin Elizabeth Austin

I have a confession to make. I, Erin Elizabeth Austin, am a reformed fraidy cat. For those unfamiliar with this phrase, it means I used to be scared of my own shadow. I put up a brave face, but more often than not, I was afraid of anything new or unfamiliar.

Everything terrified me, even people. Because I was molested when I was eight-years old, I knew bad things happened. Not only could people hurt you, but new situations could as well. I was so traumatized by all I’d been through, I shut myself off from living. I became reserved around people I didn’t know and had to be coaxed and cajoled to try anything new. Life became two-dimensional. This became even truer when I was diagnosed with lupus. Sickness quickly stole what little zest for life I had left and I became a shell of a person.

Yet I failed to realize something through all of this. I was so focused on protecting myself from further pain that I blocked out all the good God had in store for me. I didn’t understand a vital truth – when we limit ourselves, we’re also placing a limit on God. We’re saying He’s not strong enough to take care of us. He’s not good enough to allow good things in our lives. We’re saying Jesus’ death on the cross was not enough.

If you’re like me, you’d never dare say anything like that to God, and yet most of us do on a regular basis. We say it when we’re too afraid to trust Him to take care of our problems. When we struggle to hold on to our control over a situation, we’re in essence saying God isn’t good enough to accomplish what needs to be done. When we’re in desperate need of money to pay the bills and praying for God’s help doesn’t even cross our minds, we show God isn’t good enough to fulfill His promises. We limit God by our own fear and need for control. Because of the pain many of us have been forced to endure, we build up walls to protect ourselves and forget an important truth.

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress,
My God, in whom I trust!”
For it is He who delivers you from the snare of the trapper
And from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with His pinions,
And under His wings you may seek refuge;
His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark.

I love the line “His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark.” A bulwark is a solid wall that encircles something, and its entire reason for existence is to protect others. When we go to God and trust Him, He is our bulwark – our protector. We don’t have to build walls around ourselves because He is our wall. He takes care of us. When we grasp this truth, that’s when God can do something amazing in our lives and through our lives, and it doesn’t matter how sick or weak we are. Because of what Jesus accomplished on the cross, we have the victory. We don’t have to cower in fear. Life can be more.

So don’t give up hope. Your story isn’t over yet. You don’t have to live in fear. Victory belongs to you because grace wins every time! It’s time to rise up. No more walking in defeat, being scared of what’s going to come. Trust God. Rely on Him. He is your protector!

“People with their minds set on You, You keep completely whole. Steady on their feet, because they keep at it and don’t quit. Depend on God and keep at it because in the Lord God you have a sure thing.” ~ Isaiah 26:3-4 (MSG)

© August 27, 2015

By Josie Siler

“How did it get so late so soon?” This quote by Dr. Seuss perfectly sums up my life. Time is a funny thing. Sometimes it drags on and on, and other times it skips ahead so fast you feel as if you’re the unlucky sap who stumbled through a portal to the future.

How can the days drag on while some months disappear before we get the chance to live them? I know that to some extent all people experience this feeling, yet it seems as if those of us who are chronically ill or care for someone with a chronic illness experience an amplified version of this feeling.

People living with a chronic illness tend to experience time differently than others. We view the passing of time not in days or weeks or months, but in chunks of time based on how we are feeling or when we last felt well.

It’s not just me, right? Maybe it is just me, but I have a feeling I’m not alone in this.

Every summer I hope that this is the last year I will feel so sick. Next summer, Josie, next summer you will feel great and be able to do all the things you missed this summer. Then the next summer comes and I give myself the same pep talk I gave myself the summer before.

This year however, I was sure it would be different. In May I felt great. I was able to travel, explore mountains and waterfalls and the ocean, and attend an amazing conference. I felt great, well pretty good, much better than I’d felt in a long time. I came home with high hopes for this summer.

I pictured myself riding my motorcycle to work every day, taking fun day trips, and getting some amazing new photographs. I was tentative, yet hopeful and excited!

And then I started a new medication.

Really, do I need to say anything else? You get it. You know exactly what happened. For two entire months I felt terrible. Just like that, two months of my life were gone. I felt like Westley in The Princess Bride when Count Rugen sucks a year of his life away.

“I’ve just sucked one year of your life away. … What did this do to you? Tell me. … How do you feel?”

Wimper

“Interesting.”

You can watch the full clip below.

Have you ever felt like this? The last days of summer have arrived. Some children have already gone back to school, pumpkin spice everything is filling up Facebook newsfeeds everywhere, and conversations center on chilly topics such as how much snow we might get this winter.

And I’m standing over here in the corner shouting, “Hey, wait a minute! I didn’t get to have summer yet! I want a do over! Who wants to go on a picnic?”

Nobody’s paying attention so, with a resigned sigh I begin to give myself the speech again. Next summer, Josie, next summer you will feel great and be able to do all the things you missed this summer. 

“Stop it!”

Whaaaat? What was that?

“Just knock it off. Life really isn’t so bad.”

“Just who do you think you are, Mr. Voice in My Head?”

“I’m the Holy Spirit and I’m reminding you of how far you’ve come. Remember when your friend Erin came for a visit and you got to do all those fun things?”

“Yah, but remember when we didn’t feel well and all the days we spent watching movies and having fevers? We could have done so many more things; I didn’t even get through half of my list of fun things to do when Erin comes.”

“How many of those things do you think you would have been able to do a couple of years ago?”

Silence.

“How about last year? Do you think you could have taken that physically challenging two day class last summer?”

“Okay, okay, I get it!”

And I do. I get it. Sometimes I need to be Gibbs-slapped upside the head by the Holy Spirit (that’s an NCIS reference for those who don’t know). I can be so stubborn!

When we live with chronic illness we go through some very challenging and difficult times. It’s easy to focus on all of the things that we can’t do or that we have to miss. It’s at times like these when we need to remember the good things. The things we were and are able to do.

Don’t let the frustration turn to anger or bitterness. Find hope in God’s Word, in His challenges and encouragements. In Isaiah 43:18-19 (NASB) we read:

Time marches on, with or without us. Don’t get stuck trying to live in the past, instead keep an eye out for what God is doing now, and what He has in store for your future. God is going to make a way for us. He’s doing it right now. He’s making a way for us to not just live life, but thrive. Let’s choose to focus on that, for that my friends, is very good news!  

© August 25, 2015