Always

Actually, it's because of this crazy man (Jesus, not the patient) that I always default to believing I am being healed. 

Seriously. 

Anytime something changes in my body, my default position is to believe that perhaps something is getting better. Perhaps, even though maybe it hurts right now, it's actually a good thing. 

Because of this, I have let some things go on for far too long. 

I kid you not - I one time suffered a fairly significant high ankle sprain. I heard the pop. The pain blinded me for a full minute, at least. I could barely put any weight on that foot at all. 

And I was still telling myself that maybe this was actually just loosening some of the tightness that I had felt in that ankle for awhile and perhaps in a day or so, I was going to be running way more freely and efficiently than I had in a long time. 

Spoiler alert: that wasn't the case. 

But I know the goodness of God. I know the miracles He works in this world, even today. I'm living proof of many of them. I know His deep love for me. And I know He's working all things together for good, even when they aren't good things to begin with. 

I know these things about God not just because I have read them, but because I have seen them. And because I have lived them. 

I've had the honor in my life of watching Him work miracles in unexpected ways, in unexpected places. I've been there when His healing just settles over a space and everyone breathes a little easier, all at once. I've been at the bedside of dying persons who suddenly get this overwhelming joy and peace in their spirit, and there's this amazing little burst of life that just...pops out...right before death. 

In hospice settings, they usually call that last one "the rally," but it ain't the human body that's doing that; it's the human spirit, God-breathed and on its way home. 

It's why I keep pressing on when a lot of folks keep telling me they would have given up by now if they were living my life. Given up? I gave up a long time ago. 

I gave up trying to fix myself. 

But I still believe in the miracle-working, untouchable-touching, death-defying, grave clothes-folding, tender, compassionate, wonderful Crazy Man who tends my wounded spirit every day. This is not the rally; it's a gift. 

And I'm never willing to say there's a way that God's healing can't happen. 

Even if it seems to be coming from a disoriented individual who just so happens to say, "Come here." 

Jesus also said, "Come." 

You just never know.