Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be Healed

 Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; Save me, and I shall be saved, For You are my praise.

(Jeremiah 17:14 NKJV)

This is a prayer that I was fervently praying Sunday night as I sat in the emergency room at my local hospital, feeling sicker than I ever remember feeling in my life. I started getting terribly sick Saturday evening, after getting home from my granddaughter’s birthday party, and the sickness continued into Sunday morning, and Sunday afternoon, and Sunday evening, and I seriously thought I was dying. Now, before anyone else says it, I’ll say it for you — I am a total wimp when it comes to nausea. I don’t much like pain either, but if I have to choose, I’ll take pain over nausea any day!

I was so sick Sunday, and I’m usually filled with hope, but that day, I couldn’t muster any hope up. I was in a dark black place that was pretty awful, and I began having terrible thoughts of dying. In the midst of that blackness, I caught a glimpse of my own mortality, and I was frightened. After refusing to go to the ER all day, despite my husband’s numerous suggestions, suddenly, I was afraid to turn the light out and go to bed, I was so sick. I was exhausted, but so miserable that I couldn’t sleep except for five to ten minute snatches here and there, and the nausea was unbearable, and somewhere in the midst of all of that nausea and sickness, I got an unrelenting headache that wouldn’t loose its grasp on me.

I knew I should pray for myself, but I couldn’t, except to groan and cry, “O God! Help me! Jesus – please help me!” And truthfully, I didn’t do a whole lot of that either. I whined, and I complained, and I moaned and I groaned. Let’s just say that those who think of me as a strong and mighty warrior of Christ would have been terribly disappointed at this pitiful weakling. I won’t lie, in the midst of all of my sickness, I was disappointed in me. Finally, at around 9:30, Sunday night, I agreed begged to go to the hospital. 

What a horrible experience! There were several people ahead of me, and though the vomiting had stopped, the diarrhea had not, and neither had the nausea. My husband had to get a wheelchair to wheel me in there, because by this time, I was too weak to walk. As I sat in the waiting room, there were several other sick people, and blaring loudly was the television, or as one of my former pastors used to call it, the “hellivision,” showing Mob Housewives, a show that I’d never seen before, and never wanted to see again! 

What a horrible thing to have on in an emergency room, where there are sick people! At that time, I wanted to hear words of hope, or some soft quiet music… Or, better yet, SILENCE over that! Instead, while my body was being assaulted by the spirit of infirmity that was attacking it, my ears and my vision was assaulted by that hateful, hopeless show…

That’s when I began to desperately pray over and over and over, Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; Save me, and I shall be saved, For You are my praise.” It wasn’t an eloquent prayer. I can’t even say it was a very faith-filled prayer. Rather, it was a desperate, monotone repetition. Looking back on it, I’ll be honest with you. My faith was weak and wavering. I kept repeating it, because I was desperate to believe that God would heal me.

The physician’s assistant finally decided to admit me at approx. 3:30 Monday morning, so I told my husband, who was suffering with a painful, swollen foot, to go home. Then, at approximately 4:00 that morning, he came back to say the doctor didn’t want to admit me. There I was, alone in the emergency room, sick and scared, and now they weren’t going to admit me? I must have looked like a pitiful mess, because he told me to just stay there for another hour or so, and when the doctor came, just tell him I was too sick to go home. That’s what I did. I was finally admitted to the hospital under observation at approx. 7:30 am. 

My early afternoon, I was feeling better, though still really weak. I actually thought I might be going home, when the nurse practitioner came in to see me at around 3:00pm, and informed me that I wouldn’t be going home that day, because I had C-Diff, which is a nasty intestinal infection, that can indeed be deadly if not treated. I was stunned. I thought I had probably gotten a stomach virus. They began treating me with antibiotics right away, and also giving me medication to replace the good bacteria that the antibiotics were killing. 

I am so blessed to be at home and alive now, and I am so thankful to a God, who loves us in our weakness. Indeed, His strength is made perfect in our weakness, and though my faith was weak, He still honored His word to:

Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; Save me, and I shall be saved, For You are my praise.

(Jeremiah 17:14 NKJV)

I came home this evening, and I’m going to go to bed as soon as I finish this post. Hallelujah! I get to sleep in my own home, with my husband, in my own bed! I’m alive. I am loved by the God who still has much work for me to do. My recovery is nothing short of amazing, and I know that God honored His word, even though my faith was weak. If you don’t believe me, just google this illness and see how bad it really is…

I’ll share more at another time, but for now, I’m wiped out, and my bed is calling me. Brothers and sisters, hold tightly to your faith, and cling to God’s word, because it truly is living and active, and He truly does honor His word. Thank you all for your love and prayers, and I pray that the Lord will bless each of you with a heart that seeks Him. His word also says:

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.

(Jeremiah 29:11-13 NKJV)

Many blessings to you all!

Love,
Cheryl

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