Since you asked to read more of the excerpts from “Letters to Sarah: Thriving in Chronic Illness”, here you go! This book will be coming in early 2025 from Northeastern Baptist Press but I surely hope that this excerpt will encourage you in the soil of your soul today.
(Speaking of new books, just in case you haven’t already heard, my latest book, “Well-Grounded: Cultivating Intimacy with God”, is now available from Northeastern Baptist Press. You can find it on Amazon, Christian Book Distributors, and other online book companies. Thank you for how your prayers and support have made all of these books possible!)
Romans 9:25 ERV As the Scriptures say in the book of Hosea, “The people who are not mine— I will say they are my people. And the people I did not love— I will say they are the people I love.”
1 John 3:2 MEV Beloved, now are we children of God, and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be. But we know that when He appears, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.
Dearest Sarah,
I bet you’ve already realized this – but just in case you haven’t – you are not your disease(s). Sure, you can wear t-shirts supporting donations for researching cures and treatments for these diseases. Sure, you can belong to patient advocacy groups to bring awareness to the diseases in their impacts on everyday life. Sure, you can post on social media or speak to groups about what you’ve learned about thriving in life with these diseases. But, from personal experience, you need to be careful that you always keep who you are separate from what you’ve been diagnosed with.
Early in my journey with chronic illnesses, I was so desperate to find hope that I thought I could find help in the person of being a patient. Researching all the symptoms, side effects, and supposed long-term prognosis of the diseases seemed to satisfy a sense of loss I was battling in watching my body return to dust. I believed that lie of “knowledge is power”. That somehow if I could just find answers to at least some of my questions, I’d have a semblance of control. For there, I’d find my place to belong in all of what I didn’t ask for and couldn’t overcome.
But the hope didn’t come from the search.
Rather, hope came from the releasing.
A releasing of my need to understand and thus, control (or think that I could control) and a receiving of my necessity to acknowledge the very lack of control. A sure trust in the solid truth that my Good God was indeed working out everything for good as I loved Him and knew I was called according to His purpose and plan (see Romans 8:28). All those symptoms, side effects, and long-term prognosis persisted (and brought unwelcome friends of co-morbidities) day after day. Yet hope stayed and brought peace as a most-welcome friend night after night. And peace showed me that Jesus claimed me as His child and called me His very own, no matter what my medical report said.
Jesus doesn’t see me as a patient. He sees me as His beloved.
And He does the same for you.
Being well or being sick doesn’t change how Jesus sees us. But it can surely change how we see Jesus.
And that’s one of the greatest lessons I’ve learned here in the wilderness of chronic illness…
Jesus sees me here because He loves me now, just like He’s always loved me.
Just like He’s always loved you.
And the truth is this: when I choose to call upon Him for the strength to sit up and not complain, He provides. When I choose to press in close for His eyes to see past the pain to another in need, He provides. When I choose to claim His resolve to focus on what’s eternal and pray for help for another, He provides. When I choose to take these thoughts of wanting to give up as captive unto Him in obedience, He provides.
He provides.
He provides all of what I used to think I could do.
He provides all of what I know I can never do.
He provides all of what I can’t even begin to imagine or dream.
He provides.
He provides – that sounds like a t-shirt that I need to wear to my next doctor’s appointment or for that matter, a t-shirt I need to wear every day so I can see it as a reminder of His goodness and grace in every mirror or shiny surface or smiling face I see during the day.
He provides.
And hallelujah! As His beloved, I receive what He provides.
Praying today for you, sweet Sarah, that you might recognize evidence of our Good God’s provision for you here in the wilderness of chronic illness.
With much love from your friend,
Beth
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written by and copyrighted to Beth Madison, Ph.D., 2024.
Soul Scientist 
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