Wrestling With God

I wrestled with God for about seven years. I grunted with exertion, wept in pain and tried my best at manipulation to somehow get an answer from Him. I clung to Him in fear, I yelled in frustration. I thought that the more I struggled, the closer I would be to finding the answers. I had a glimpse into what Jacob went through when he wrestled with God, but I already had His blessings; I wanted to know the answer to a question that had plagued me for years.

On a cool September evening I got into a car accident. I wasn’t wearing a seat belt and I scalped myself on the car dashboard; it peeled back like a too ripe peach. I was sitting in the back middle seat of a Ford Bronco when our driver turned back to look at the three of us joking in the passenger seats. Unfortunately, the cars in front of us stopped and we didn’t. We hit two cars from behind going 40 miles an hour. I flew like a rag doll. I didn’t realize at first what had happened. Blood was splattered across the front seat. I anxiously looked around to find who was bleeding, and then I saw the look on my friend’s face: I must have been quite a sight. I lifted my hand to touch the top of my head and all I felt was a gooey mass of flesh. The ambulance arrived shortly after and called my parents to have them meet me at the hospital.
Twenty-two staples and ten stitches later, I was released from the hospital with a massive headache. That was the easy part. The hard part came when I found myself alone with God and the staple gun that the doctor gave me as a souvenir.

I looked a mess for the week after as blood crusted my hair and I could barely move. I couldn’t wash my hair for a week because they didn’t want the wound to get wet. The smell started to get rancid and my sister and I would pick out chunks of dried blood as we watched television. I would try to comb out the crusted blood without pulling on the scar or loosening a staple. I felt like the bride of Frankenstein. Even though physically I was wretched, it was my soul that felt shattered. I was a good Christian girl. I went on seven mission trips. I went to church three times a week! Didn’t God know that I already loved Him? Didn’t He know that I was serving Him? Why would He let this happen to me?

I fumbled over these questions and begged Him for answers. I would go to church, paste on a smile, and praise him with my lips. People would come up to me and say “Put it in God’s hands. He has a purpose,” or quote Romans 8:28 (NIV) “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” My head knew these things so well. My soul wanted to cry out from pain and disbelief. I didn’t want to turn my back on Him, but I wanted to know why. How could my Father allow this?

I had to quit college and move back home to complete the healing process. All of my hopes and dreams had to be put on hold and I didn’t know if I would be able to pick up the pieces.
Shortly after I moved home, I received the news from my MRI: I had a brain tumor in my pituitary gland. The pituitary gland is the hormone center of the brain and quite a scary place to have a brain tumor (but then again, any place is scary to have a brain tumor.) I pictured all these horrid hormone changes going wrong: lactating breasts, a chest hairier than a Greek man, my voice sounding strangely like my grandfather’s… I was dreading the future and I couldn’t bear to live in the present. I wanted to escape the prison that had become my life.

People started smiling at me and said “Well, there’s God’s purpose. You wouldn’t have found your tumor if you didn’t have your car accident.” That didn’t make me feel better. There shouldn’t be a tumor there in the first place! My life had been so wonderful. It wasn’t perfect, but I didn’t realize how good I had it. Now there was this impending journey before me that I didn’t want to face; I didn’t even know if I had the strength to go on. But I did go on with my life; there was no other choice.

It’s been fourteen years now and I still don’t have any answers. I did go through several phases on this journey, though. I went through the “if I smile and pretend life is good, I’ll be okay” phase. I couldn’t keep that up for too long. Next I went through the “What did I do wrong?” phase. This one lasted about six and a half years. I searched and searched for sin in my life. Maybe I shouldn’t have been out with non-Christian friends (even though we were just going shopping). I thought I didn’t do enough work to help save the lost. I thought I missed out on His will. The list was endless. My third phase was manipulation. I created a plethora of spiritual formulas to get the answers I needed and the healing I desperately desired. Prayer plus faith equals answers. No, that didn’t work. Patience plus repentance equals answers. Okay, how about thanking God for my healing before he does it and then I’ll get the answers? These are all great things, but God doesn’t work like this. I can’t trick Him or manipulate Him to get my way. He does things in His own time.

Along this path a lot of great things have happened, too. I was determined to finish college and graduated with my degree in history and a credential in secondary education. God brought me a husband who is a nurse and helps me with my physical pain (and he’s really cute too!) I got to see my nieces enter this world and I fell head over heels in love with my nephew. I struggled six years with infertility and how have a miracle baby. If God took me to heaven early, I wouldn’t have experienced these amazing events. God spared my life so I could live through this immense joy. The love that I have far surpasses the pain that I feel each day. God spared my life that painful day because He planned an awesome future for me.

It hasn’t been easy, though. Each step along this journey and each move in this wrestling match has been painfully slow. Through my doubts, my pouting, and my games, He is still holding me close. God disabled Jacob’s hip during their wrestling match so that Jacob could no longer walk in his own strength. He had to rely entirely on God. No one comes away from wrestling with God the same. I’m realizing that to get through the pain, I have to rely solely on God. I haven’t found a medicine or treatment that can take away my physical pain, but I know God will not let me face this journey alone. He is there for every time I cry in frustration in my bed at night. He is there when I yell in anger at Him because I face this gnawing pain without relief. He is there for me.

I still want to know why this happened and maybe I’ll never know. My head has healed, but I still experience pain daily and there is a scar. My soul has healed, but I still experience pain and there is a scar. The good part is that my scars are beautiful. They are a reminder of God’s faithfulness.