Last week I wrote a post about my recent diagnosis with celiac disease. But the physical reality of celiac is only half of the story. As promised, in this post I will share more of my emotional response and my spiritual thoughts and meditations as they have played out in the past few months and weeks.
Allow me to rewind. In November I started noticing the symptoms. In December they got worse, and I began paying much closer attention to what I was eating, experimenting with cutting out dairy. Early January, I saw a doctor. I hadn't been too concerned, but the doctor suspected my symptoms were gluten related, and recommended keeping a food diary. Even so, the chance of gluten intolerance seemed like an unlikely possibility. It was distant, the sort of thing that happens to other people.
But I remember exactly where I was, what I was doing, and what I had eaten the day I pinpointed my reactions to gluten. Chick-fil-A. Bagging orders. Chargrilled Chicken Sandwich. Roughly 30 minutes after my break, that familiar burning, churning pain seized me in my gut and as I put two and two together I felt a little like my world was crashing down around me.
The sense of loss I felt caught me off guard. Suddenly insignificant things like the crushed oreos we use at Chick-fil-A for making the oreo milkshakes became hateful symbols of all that was slipping through my fingers. Though I eat oreos less than once a month, the simple fact that I might no longer have that freedom was ridiculously troubling to me.
I began doing research online and as I learned the differences between intolerance and celiac disease, identifying with many symptoms of the latter, the weight of the possibility and the risks involved grew heavier. I got a referral for a GI doctor and set up an appointment in order to be tested. In the meantime I began cutting out gluten and dairy and talking to people I knew who had gluten intolerance issues.
At this point, I was greatly encouraged by the responses of the people the Lord had graciously placed around me. A plea I posted on facebook received lots of helpful responses and one of my classmates during a winter course had celiac disease and shared some welcome advice. In addition, my community group at church was interceding on my behalf and constantly checking up on me, providing meals and much needed moral support. Though the possibility of celiac still seemed overwhelming, and the sense of loss still great, it seemed more doable and livable than it had initially, and I felt I could look forward to a day when the new normal would be, well, normal.
One day I was talking to my sister about the whole thing via Skype. Somewhat humorously, I recalled my new year's resolution for 2012, a desire to be humble before the Lord and dependent upon Him more than I have been. I wanted to grow in my recognition of my need for God, to feel it more and as a result to depend less upon myself and more upon Him and His grace. It seemed that the Lord was answering my prayer sooner than I had expected, and I was thankful for His faithfulness.
As we continued talking, I shared about the frustration, the disappointment, and the sense of loss I was feeling over the situation. Just as I was tempted to decry the injustice of it all, the Lord brought to mind Job's words, "The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away, blessed be the name of the LORD." In an instant I was rebuked and comforted. How could I question God? For 23 years He has given me a life of relative health, and the ability to digest gluten freely. Can I now complain that He has taken that ability away? Swallowing my pride and self-pity, I thanked Him and praised Him.
After my first appointment with the GI, the results of the bloodwork came back "highly indicative" of celiac disease. An esophagoscopy and intestinal biopsy were needed to confirm diagnosis, but all the evidence was pointing toward celiac. God provided dear friends from my community group to accompany me to that appointment, which occurred on a Friday, February 3. Biopsy results would take about a week, and my follow-up appointment was scheduled for Monday, February 13.
Providentially, my quiet time on the day before my follow-up was spent in Matthew 26. It was the first time I had read the chapter in the NASB, and Jesus' words as He prayed to the Father in the garden struck me in a way they never had before. "My Father if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; yet not as I will, but as You will." And again, "My Father, if this cannot pass away unless I drink it, Your will be done."
I read those words over and over again, meditating through tears on the cup that Jesus drank. I thought of the wrath of God poured out upon Him, the unimaginable pain, shame, and anguish of the cross. For Jesus there was so much at stake, but He valued the glory of the Father and obedience to Him more than He valued His own personal comfort, safety, or reputation. And when the decision came, Jesus chose obedience.
I do not presume that celiac disease compares to the cup that Christ drank so long ago. Far be it from me! Yet, as I consider celiac as the cup God has given me to drink, along with the consequences and risks that come with it, I am greatly comforted by Christ's example of obedience. If Jesus could submit to the Father's will at so great a cost, surely by His strength I too can submit to the Father in the task He has laid before me. And that day I prayed for the grace necessary to do so. Later, my mother reminded me that Jesus sweat drops of blood that night before He drank the cup. Wrestling to come to terms with the implications of celiac for my life, I was comforted by that fact.
The following day, a friend from work accompanied me to my appointment, and the doctor confirmed my diagnosis with celiac disease. Now, a week later, the sense of loss lingers, but shows signs of fading. While it has certainly been overwhelming, if I could summarize the past week since my diagnosis in one word I would say that above all it has been "humbling". Though humiliation is never comfortable, I can honestly say that I am grateful for it. Through it I am learning to depend on God, feeling my need for Him, and seeing His grace and His faithfulness in ways I never would have otherwise.
My journey with celiac disease has only just begun, but I am confident that it will turn out in the end for my good and His glory. For now, I say along with Job, "The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the name of the LORD."Labels: Bible/theology, every day life, journal/quiet time, reflections