From
Living Theology in the Metropolitan Chicago Synod
Volume 4, Number 3
Epiphany 2000
"Wellness"
Did
Noah Get Arthritis?
Jenny
Bogard
If sin is the “age old rebellion,”
then would Adam have refused to go to the doctor if he got sick?
Biblical history often seems to
present a clear connection, even a synthesis, between sin and illness—certainly
between sin and death and conversely forgiveness and healing—and perhaps,
between life and health. But we who
live in the era of quickly advancing medical and scientific frontiers can
knowledgeably pick apart the story lines of the Old and New Testaments. We can identify the contractible and
inherited diseases which plagued those people, along with modern treatments and
cures that do not include mud, spit, exorcism, banishment or finding the right
pool to wash in. Now hold on, lest you
think I simply mock the intervention of God and the healing of Christ that is
found so often in the Old and New Testaments.
Let’s first consider why a person like myself, one with a chronic
illness and a disability might take offense.
Consider the heroes and patriarchs of
old. Eve’s sin caused pain and
difficulty in childbirth. Jacob
wrestled with God and came out with an injured hip—not just a reminder of his
humanity, mind you, but in the days before motor cars, a clear disability. Consider Sarah and many other women who were
“barren,” as it is put—or infertile, as we would say today. Their inability to have children precluded
them from participating in the call of God and put at risk their lineage and
even their security in this life. Moses
feared his speech problem would cause him to be unable to fulfill God’s
command. The psalmists wrote songs of
pain and suffered disability from grief.
Saul only came to “see’ God through an experience of blindness. Those of the Old Testament who lived to be
600 must have had incredible arthritis, despite their faith. In Jesus’ ministry, scores of cripples, lame
men, the deaf and mute were cured by the word of God’s forgiveness—the Power of
the Name of God. It would be great if
it were that easy at the end of the twentieth century.
During the time that I have spent with
a limp, a cane, a crutch or two, sore hips, a wheelchair, paraplegia and the
inability to write my name or get out of bed by myself, I have also been an
ordained person who has a call from God to preach and teach the Word and
administer the sacraments in the Power of the Name of God. But all that didn’t make me better. I’ve prayed, wrestled, yelled, cried and
stood silent with God. But I still
couldn’t walk.
Some said it was a gift, a way for me
to be God’s example and servant. Some
said that it was an obvious sign of my lack of faith. Maybe I suffered a trauma at birth. Some said this just happens to people sometimes and it has
nothing to do with anything.
I’m still not sure what I
believe. But I do know that I have
learned more about God’s presence and ability to appear absent, more about sin
and brokenness, more about healing and wholeness in the last five years than
most people do in a lifetime. The
questions are greater in number than answers, but perhaps in this age of
reason, questions are what we need to be able to truly see into one another’s
lives. The world wants to know, “Why
did God let this happen?”—the great stumbling block to those who do not know
God. I can’t tell you that. But maybe I can help you know that God has
never wished for anyone to suffer, and that illness, disability, and brokenness
are the evidence of sin, not the punishment for it.
Health happens when the systems of the
body work together in a way God in God’s infinite wisdom created them to. The cells seem to have little lives of their
own, producing the chemicals and substances necessary to promote the life and
development of other cells, building tissue and organs, bones and vessels. It is all coordinated by a complex chemical
and electrical system that the most brilliant scientist can only scratch his
head at.
Sometimes, though, things go
awry. If such a wrench as a resistant
bacteria is thrown into the works, the well-oiled machine endures an annoying,
troublesome, and for some, disabling continuum that we call illness—a domino
effect of glitches and bugs. Illness
happens because the body is functioning abnormally. It is a sign that God’s human creation is not up to par with what
God intended. But note, the creation is
perfect. (Read Wisdom of the Body
or How We Die by Sherwin B. Nuland and you’ll believe this
forever.) However, the creation is also
vulnerable to its own freedom and sometimes breaks down.
Sure, sin can cause health
problems. Carcinogens such as tobacco
and the fumes of the city destroy not only lung tissue, but also many of the
plants and animals that God worked so hard on those first days of
creation. This is clearly our fault. We continually stuff ourselves with surplus
fats and foods that we know can cause congestive heart failure or coronary
artery disease. As a result of our
greed and aimless curiosity, we have invented a world that is destroying
itself, and our selves with it. New
research gives more and more evidence that environmental toxins are responsible
for such diseases as asthma, Parkinson’s and many cancers. Our love of speed and fury causes more auto
accidents that I can bear to ponder.
Our inner hatred of each other sparks the fuel of thousands whose acts
of terrorism cause death and torment for individuals, cultures and entire
nations. In an effort to defend a
country and a “sacred” way of life, we have developed weapons of war designed
to debilitate, disfigure and kill one another.
All of this is truly sinful, but God didn’t do it. We did.
But sometimes, God’s wisdom shows
through and answers are found. Recently
I began taking a tiny pill that contains the precise chemical that my brain
missed for years. This chemical crosses
the blood-brain barrier and becomes the neurotransmitter dopamine. Upon entering the realm of circuitry, it
restores my movement and mobility for about four hours. In short, I can walk. I can even run sometimes and my life is a
whole lot easier. (Hopefully the
medications won’t ruin my liver in the years to come.) I have been called a miracle, or at least
the situation has. I do believe that
God had a hand in all of this coming about, but I don’t hold God responsible
for the years I spent in a wheelchair.
God created such a remarkable body that it’s taken us this long to
figure it out. So we can call it a
miracle, but it is no greater an act of God than flowers resurrecting to new
life when the snow melts each spring.
It doesn’t minimize my recent transformation and the healing that can
occur with proper diagnosis and treatment to say that all of life is
miraculous. All of life, all of
wellness, healing and growth, birth and development is miraculous because God’s
hand is in it.
Still, it doesn’t help me to
understand why a 10-year old granddaughter of one of my flock has suffered with
an inoperable brain tumor. The anguish
that the child, her family and all of us have experienced seems pointless in
the big picture. It serves no purpose,
does it, to see the innocent suffer?
Truly it was not her sins that made it happen, but perhaps it was the
sin that is so evident in our world. We
are not as whole as first created, though the Imago Dei gives me hope
that God will restore us to new life and true wellness. We can be healthy. We can endure and experience disability and still be healthy.
How is this so? I first realized that I was whole—that I was
“well” in the midst of being sick—when I got so bad that I had no other choice
but to give it all up. In late 1997and early
1998, my inability to walk had progressed to an inability to stand. Numerous functions of my body began to fail
me. Medications caused problems all
their own. All this made the activities
of daily living very difficult.
Everything from getting in and out of the shower to making it up the
ramp during worship was becoming more difficult. I doubted whether I could or should continue to do my job. It became increasingly obvious that some
concessions would have to be made in my duties at work and at home, and I found
myself slowly becoming more isolated, alone and afraid. It became more and more depressing to answer
the question, “How are you?” The
strength I was holding onto through self-confidence and pride was
diminishing. The smile of yesterday was
fading and my fear and frustration were beginning to show. This bothered me more than anything. I had not yet learned how to be broken
without feeling destroyed.
With scant encouragement from my
physicians, little relief from medications and meager confidence in my future,
I examined everything that I had formerly taken for granted. It was time to decide if I was going to
fight or quit, search or give up. It
was time for me to reevaluate my goals, my needs and my dreams. The answer was clear. Of all my accomplishments, my freedom and
independence are by far the most important to me. Being free to live as a woman who is wife and mother, a pastor
and an athlete instills a sense of achievement and success that is almost
irreplaceable. It is my love of this
freedom, along with the challenge of keeping it real, that has gotten me
through all this.
As the pastor of a congregation, a leader in the church, a wife, a mother, an athlete, I had many roles to fill and much work to do. As I listed the responsibilities of these roles, I realized that none of them specifically required walking or running. Nor did they indicate a need to be perfect, without illness or injury. What was required was a loving heart, a genuine faith, a compassionate soul and a dedicated spirit. I could do these things as God gave me the ability. My disability had no power over them. I was still free, and because of this I was, and am, whole. While my body remains injured and my function impaired I am not defeated by sin or its consequences. This is freedom for the Christian. Even though I no longer fit the definition of able-bodied, my call is not compromised by my need to ask for help or minister in a different way.
Everything has changed and yet nothing
at all. I am still who God made me to
be, doing what God has called me to do.
I finally came to understand that it was God’s creative power (and not
that of my doctor or my ego) that makes me whole, just as it is God’s creative
power that makes everyone who knows God whole.
It is the Imago Dei that I have inherited which makes me well,
not the genetic and physical casting of my body and its functioning.
Therefore, calling someone an
“invalid” must be a great sin, as none of God’s creation is “in-valid.” God has called us his children, and knew us
in the womb. We may discriminate in
this world (another sign of our shortsightedness) but there is no one who is
not beloved in the eyes of God. Each of
us is called a special purpose, and God’s ultimate promise to be with us always
is all we need to know. We will never
go through life alone. In our weakest
moments, it is God’s image of suffering which makes us strong, and in our
triumphs we can be reminded that Christ too triumphed over all.
It is okay that our bodies will break
down, disappoint us and eventually die.
This is part of life for us sinners.
Yet even in our dying, through faith we can be whole. Christ died that we might live, overcame
death and brought us to newness of life through the glory of the empty tomb. We receive this gift of life even today
because the power of the Spirit of God dwelling in us sustains us despite our
sin, despite our suffering (self inflicted or accidental) and despite our
refusal to give up that which destroys us.
I know that God’s forgiving, renewing
and healing Spirit within me keeps me alive, well and whole.
Wholeness, therefore, is not the
absence of sin, but the presence of God.
This is a message of hope for all God’s people.