I’ve come to see healing a little differently these days. I read the gospels, see all the times in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John when Jesus healed those he encountered. I’m keenly aware when the pastor is teaching from a passage about a paralytic, one who talked to Jesus, packed up his mat, the one he’s been lying on for years, and walked away . . . healed, restored, whole . . . in one instant.
“And he went throughout all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom and healing every disease and every affliction among the people. So his fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought him all the sick, those afflicted with various diseases and pains, those oppressed by demons, epileptics, and paralytics, and he healed them.” Matthew 4:23-24
“That evening they brought to him many who were oppressed by demons, and he cast out the spirts with a word and healed all who were sick.” Matthew 8:16
“And many followed him, and he healed them all . . .” Matthew 12:15
“When he went ashore he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them and healed their sick.” Matthew 14:14
“And great crowds came to him, bringing with them the lame, the blind, the crippled, the mute, and many others, and they put them at his feet, and he healed them, so that the crowd wondered, when they saw the mute speaking, the crippled healthy, the lame walking, and the blind seeing. And they glorified the God of Israel.” Matthew 15:30-31
“And large crowds followed him, and he healed them there.” Matthew 19:2
“And the blind and the lame came to him in the temple, and he healed them.” Matthew 21:14
These are passages from just the book of Matthew, not even any of the other gospels. It’s clearly not about His ability to heal. He is able. Period. Countless others in the New Testament were healed, even when Jesus was no longer on this earth.
Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. To see Johnnie up and running around on two legs that work. To have conversations with him on a deeper level than the latest Peppa Pig episode. To know that seizures will never again plague him and cause him harm. Oh, I talk to the Lord about it daily. I asked every day before he was born, and I still ask every day for that miracle . . . knowing the giving of such is in His hands.
It’s ok to wrestle with it, so keep wrestling. It’s ok to keep asking, so never stop asking.
Sometimes, though, He just has different plans.
As I’ve read the Word, spent time with Jesus, cared for Johnnie, and even read incredibly good and challenging books by people like Joni Eareckson Tada, my perspective has tweaked. I’ve got a slightly different perspective now.
I realize there are times that He wants to do something through the disease, the pain, the epilepsy, the paralysis. And I also fully understand that we walk in the miraculous every single day.
Johnnie shouldn’t be alive. He has a shunt that drains fluid off of his brain every day that he lives. It’s a miracle of modern medicine. Let alone, surviving the massive surgery the day he was born!
He shouldn’t be able to sing and dance and twirl and make me dizzy, but he does it every single day.
He shouldn’t be able to joke and laugh and enjoy the humor all around him, but he does.
His body has endured much from a physical standpoint. I know he lives in far more pain than he is able to communicate, but he presses on.
There are so many things that we don’t take for granted. Miracles both big and small. He has certainly blessed our family far beyond our wildest imaginations. We thank the Lord for his precious life, who he is as a person . . . even on the hardest days.
Not too long ago, Jeremy and I had a conversation with Johnnie that’s really had my wheels spinning. I come back to that conversation over and over again. At the time, I cried. Imagine that?! But, it really challenged me.
Many of you know that Jeremy loves to talk to Johnnie about heaven. They will go back and forth about what we know about heaven, who’s there, what the gates will be like, will he be able to open them, what will we do there, will we ever come back to this home?? It’s quite interesting to listen to, and I’m pretty sure that Johnnie is really hoping God will let him be a gatekeeper one day.
One night, we were putting Johnnie to bed and got to talking about heaven again, especially since my dad passed away and we now know someone so intimately who is there. My dad is actually in heaven, with Jesus. Crazy!
Johnnie started in with his questions. Some are so good, some hilarious.
And that night I said something to him that I’ve never said to him before. I said, “Johnnie, you know that one day, when you get to heaven, you will run and jump and play. Your legs will work. They’ll be made new. You won’t need your wheels anymore.”
He froze. And sat there in perfect silence.
As he processed what I said, I was certain he was trying to figure out what that would actually feel like. But the next thing he said rocked me to my core.
“No, not legs. I like my wheels. I need them. I want them with me.”
Jeremy and I locked eyes and tears sprang to the surface. The moment was so sweet and pure and innocent. A reminder of how much of his identity is wrapped up in exactly who he is today, in this moment . . . disability and all. It’s all he’s ever known.
Sure, he knows he is different. But he’s Johnnie, the kid in the wheelchair who loves to open doors and sing and spin.
In that moment, I started wondering exactly what heaven would be like for him. I’ve always thought I knew, had an idea, but what if my assumptions have been wrong?
As I’ve thought on it more and more, I keep coming back to a verse that I’ve clung to from day one of Johnnie’s diagnosis:
For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
My soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
When I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.
Psalm 139:13-16
God made no mistake when he formed Johnnie. He’s exactly as he was meant to be. I’ve known that all along. Believed it wholeheartedly. But something different rose up in me that night when we talked about heaven. As much as we long to see him healed, he is content, lacking nothing, even longing to enjoy heaven . . .
Wheels and all.
Now, don’t ask me what that looks like. I have no sure answers. All I know with certainty is that we will be there, enjoying Jesus . . . with glorified bodies, no more pain, no more sadness. The old will pass away and the new will come.
But the other day, I was deeply thankful for the reminder that God made Johnnie, and He knows him intimately. God’s ways are so much higher and more lofty than anything we could think up or imagine. And though we hate the physical and mental disabilities, even grieve them, Johnnie’s just hoping to have a front row seat to all the wonderful worship in heaven and open those gates wide open for all who come.
A Thousand Little Deaths 
Your blog is such a blessing. Thanks for sharing!
LikeLiked by 1 person