I Chron 17
Acts 18: 19-28
Psalm 30; Psalm 31
It’s 1990. Laying on my bed in the Wurzburg, Germany, Army Hospital, I hurt. Bad. Jan was scared, wrestling with two kids, household, and more, in Germany far from family. Something was killing me, and the Docs had no clue what it was. After frantic tests and ultrasound, they discovered a liver abscess the size of a baseball. All the organs on the right side of my body swelled up, and it hurt like a son of a gun.
At that point, I looked up at the ceiling and prayed, “Lord, if you take me home, it won’t hurt anymore.”
The divine chuckle, as God spoke to me, was very much in my own arrogant, self-satisfied language. You see, God met me where I was, in that moment. He said, “Stop being a wienie.”
Three weeks in that bed, antibiotics, and fever that melted my body down to around 160 pounds, did not solve the problem. An Ultrasound on a Thursday led to the diagnosis that my liver abscess had not reduced and was about to split my liver open or burst. If it split open, I would bleed out in my body cavity and get my wish. If the abscess burst, the infection, and sepsis in my body cavity would kill me slower, but it would kill me. Friday morning, they flew me to Landstuhl, Germany, and advanced treatment by the Army’s top Internal Medicine people.
The Cat Scan was Monday morning. Tuesday morning, Jan and I sat in the Internal Medicine Doc’s office, and he wore a confused expression as he said, “Your abscess is gone. We do not know how that happened.”
That happened across 3 days between the ultrasound in Wurzburg and Cat scan in Landstuhl.
The human body does not accept back a baseball sized chunk of muck and puss and go about its business. Usually, when an abscess like that bursts, it infects the entire body and the end is near. Or it bursts the organ and the end is really near. Instead, I had a reduced hole in my liver, but the abscess was gone.
Driving back home to our house outside Wurzburg, I realized that God reached out and touched my arrogant, pride filled, self-magnified boneheaded presence with complete physical, mental, and spiritual brokenness… Then healed me. He knocked all my Churchy knowledge and geekiness out of my head, into my heart, and turned it into a love story. Psalm 30 is David’s story.
Though I came to faith at 14 years old, TRUE faith, that moved into my heart, was the end result of my liver abscess adventure. I went from being a geeky Jesus Fan to being a Redeemed Jesus Follower. I was 32 years old, Lindsay 3, Lauren 7, and Jan 32. Jonathan and Justin were in our future.
Here's the key. The healing of my liver abscess was not the miracle. It was the tool God used for the miracle of moving faith from my head into my heart. Of redeeming me. Focus on the miracle maker… Not the miracle. Otherwise, we might miss the point as we travel the Scarlet Thread of the Bible.
God WOKE me, but I’m still a recovering Pharisee and constantly must beg forgiveness.
Psalm 30 is a psalm and song at the dedication of the house of David. It is a song of praise and worship. After the storm of life is over, there is a song. Some Bible scholars have thought that David wrote this when he brought up the ark to Jerusalem and placed it in the tabernacle he had erected for it. Others have thought that it was written for the dedication of the threshing floor of Araunah, the area where the future temple was to be built. Still others believe it has a prophetic aspect and was David's expression of praise and thanksgiving when God promised to build him a house (2Sa 7:11). It is interesting to note that in the modern Jewish ritual it is used at the Feast of Chanuka, the Feast of Dedication, which dates back to the time of the Maccabees.
I will extol thee, O LORD; for thou hast lifted me up, and hast not made my foes to rejoice over me.
O LORD my God, I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed me [Psa 30:1-2].
It is J. Vernon McGhee’s analysis, and my belief, that David was once as sick as Hezekiah, and God raised him up. We have no record of what his sickness might have been, but these verses tell us that God healed him. I like this psalm because God did the same thing for me.
In fact, I consider this one of my special psalms, because after having the liver abscess, the Lord permitted me to live. “O LORD my God, I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed me.” Perhaps I should organize a chorus and call it “The Sick Pharisee Chorus,” of those people all across the country attacked by the awful monster of harsh disease and God sustained them. I want to emphasize that God does not always heal us in this life, but He certainly does in the next one. Don’t mistake the continuation of disease as some sort of flaw in faith… the way some charismatics and prosperity Gospel people opine.
O LORD, thou hast brought up my soul from the grave: thou hast kept me alive, that I should not go down to the pit [Psa 30:3].
I don't know about you, but I could sing, or at least say, this psalm. It has a great deal of meaning to me.
Sing unto the LORD, O ye saints of his, and give thanks at the remembrance of his holiness [Psa 30:4].
We “give thanks at the remembrance of his holiness.” God didn't heal me because I am some special little tool of His. He didn't heal me because I am a teacher of the Bible or soldiered in the Army or worked at Microsoft... He did it because He is a holy God and He maintains His holiness. He recognizes my sins, and He has saved me by His grace. He hasn't lowered His standard one bit.
Again I say, Hallelujah for healing; I praise Him, my Great Physician. I don't have to praise some man or woman who claims to be a healer. I didn't go to a person like that. Laying in my Hospital bed, I went directly to the Great Physician. If you are sick, take your case to the Great Physician, and then call in the best doctor you can get - Army doctor in my case - because our Great Physician gave that doctor all the skill and wisdom he has (whether or not the doctor recognizes that fact).
God is holy. We ought to be thankful that we have a holy God who deals with us in grace.
Jay
I’m still a recovering Pharisee saved by Grace