I am lying in a hospital bed. This year I have spent nearly two months in the hospital, recovering from massive abdominal surgery and learning to live, practically and spiritually, with intestinal failure. I am wrestling with a big question: Who am I and who is God in this new world I inhabit?
I have lived with Crohn’s disease for 30 years. Over that time, my understanding of myself and, with it, my pictures of God have evolved in lockstep with the disease’s progress. I was in my 20s when first diagnosed. The disease rampaged through my intestines and left me unable to work for several years. I felt stripped. A picture I had of myself—as lively, young, capable, a contributor—died and along with it a cherished image of God: that of the dynamic, spiritually charged-up God who always blesses his beloved children with good things. It took me years of grieving to let go of that false image.
Over time, I received a gift: a richer vision of God as the one who suffers with us in Jesus Christ. When my health improved, I found myself raised alongside that Savior who carries his scars into resurrection. Nonetheless, although I have had periods of OK health, over the years my strength has eroded, often in a feast of pain. I have been to the emergency room countless times and spent years unable to eat anything other than medically prescribed gunk. That triggered clinical depression. There have been many occasions where I have effectively felt too tired and stripped out to hope.
