By Josie Siler

“As the Scriptures say, ‘A man leaves his father and mother and is joined to his wife, and the two are united into one.’” These words from Ephesians 5:31 are going to impact each of us in a different way. Some of us will feel a sense of warmth and joy, having experienced a good marriage and the love of a Godly man or woman. Some of us will feel regret, thinking of a lost love. Some of us will feel pain and anger due to a broken relationship. Some of us will feel a sense of loss and disappointment because we have never experienced this kind of love.

The Apostle Paul continues in Ephesians 5:32, “This is a great mystery, but it is an illustration of the way Christ and the church are one.” In these verses Paul is talking about marriage, but he’s also talking about much more than that. He’s using the institution of marriage to give us an example of Christ’s relationship with the church. Being “united as one” with your husband or wife is the deepest, most intimate experience a human can experience…however it pales in comparison to the intimacy that we can experience with Christ.

By Erin Elizabeth Austin

We've all heard the saying, “A penny for your thoughts.” Yet I can’t help but wonder what people would say if they ever truly got to see the many thoughts floating through my mind. Would they be shocked? Appalled? Outraged? They may even simply be amazed at the sheer quantity of things rolling through my mind at the same time. But if we’re honest, there are some thoughts we hope will never be made public, particularly for those of us living with a chronic illness.

When a person deals with suffering on a daily basis, it’s not always easy to stay upbeat and positive. Sometimes, our thoughts can become quite dark. We wonder if life will ever get easier, if we matter, and if God even cares what happens to us. The problem with this line of thinking is that once we begin to have these types of thoughts, it’s hard to stop.

We’ve all met people who change us and the way we view life. Sometimes, it’s a family member or friend, and other times it’s a person we encounter only once in our lives. Although I’ve met many people who have helped me become the woman I am today, there is one person who stands out from all the rest. Her name is Sharon.

I met Sharon shortly after I started Broken but Priceless Ministries. After speaking at a church, one of Sharon’s friends contacted me to see if I would go visit Sharon. She had heard me speak and wanted Sharon to meet me; she thought I could encourage Sharon, who was suffering from ALS. Yet it turned out that Sharon was the one who encouraged me and forever changed the way I view my illness.

In October 2011, I had the rare privilege of being allowed to ride an elephant. Yes, you read this correctly. I actually climbed on an adult elephant's back and rode her. Although it was an odd combination of rocking back and forth and up and down, it was by far one of the most amazing things I have ever experienced. The elephant was gentle, yet playful. Even though she was massive, I never feared she would harm me. I suppose this is because she had been raised in captivity. Chances are, she had Circus Elephant Syndrome.

If you've ever been to the circus, there's a good chance you've seen an elephant tied with a chain to a stake in the ground. The elephant is so large, she could easily break free, yet she never tries. The reason for this is because when she was tied to the stake as a baby, she did try to escape. Unfortunately, as a baby, she wasn't strong enough to break free, and the chain and metal collar physically wounded her. Because of this, the elephant stopped trying to escape. As the elephant grew older, she didn't forget the pain she endured as a child; therefore, she was held captive by the memory of being hurt.

Since I was a teenager, I have always worked with children in some capacity. From working in a children's home to being a teacher's assistant, I have worked with hundreds of children over the years. One of the reasons I enjoy working with children is because I never know what to expect; everyday is an adventure. Five years ago, I had one of these adventures with a four-year old. He had been placed in the state's custody because he had been neglected and abused. Even though he was four, he couldn't talk because no one ever spoke to him. Developmentally, he was closer to the age of a two-year old, not because he was mentally challenged, but because no one ever cared for and loved him. Because of this, I was completely shocked and appalled when he spoke his first word.

I'm lying in a hospital bed getting an IV bag of nutrients. For the past six months, I've had to do this once a month. However, today marks the beginning of my receiving these nutrients via IV twice a month. My body is doing a lousy job of maintaining the correct nutrient levels. I'm also currently taking antibiotics. The only problem is the past several times I've needed antibiotics my body hasn't registered that it has an infection, so I have to get very sick before I realize there's a problem. Added to all of this is the fact I've had zero energy for several months.

"Why am I telling you this," one might wonder. Because auto-immune diseases, along with most chronic illnesses, don't usually just give a person a bad day physically here and there. Most of us measure our bad days in spans of weeks and sometimes months. And when that happens, it is extremely easy to focus on all the problems in our lives rather than focus on the good.

It's hard being content with who you are, especially when who you are is a person who struggles with a disease you wished you didn't have. Yet this is exactly what Christ said in the Beatitudes. Verse five of Matthew 5 says, "You're blessed when you're content with just who you are - no more, no less. That's the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can't be bought."

I wish I could say I've mastered the art of being content, but I can't. I work very hard to be content, and will probably work every bit as hard thirty years from now as I do today. Being sick isn't something I chose. When I look back over my life and see all the mistakes I have made, even though I wish I could take those mistakes back, at least they were mistakes I chose to make. I didn't choose to be sick, and I certainly didn't choose to be in medical debt.

I have a confession to make. I am a perfectionist. That's right. I was the kid in school who got upset if she got a B on her report card. But it's hard to be a perfectionist when you're sick. This is probably why it took me six years to finish college. Between working my way through school and trying to have the highest grade possible, I worked myself into the ground and had to keep taking semesters off to recuperate.

One would think I'd have learned my lesson by now. To be honest, I thought I had. My perfectionist tendencies had to leave when I became deathly sick three years ago. Because of this, I thought they had gone for good, but as it turns out, they only went into hiding. They never really left. They stayed in the shadows until I began to heal. It was last week I realized they had just been biding their time, waiting for me to recover.