Chronic Illness vs. Will

If you’re like me, you’ve had loving friends gently challenge you not to use your health as an excuse, a crutch, or a cop-out for not doing certain things. While you want to accept any truth from their words, you also know, deeply and painfully, that your chronic illness is a genuine handicap to many things you want and need to do. 

“I know,” you may say, while you’re thinking, You don’t know what it’s like to have my body. 

Our bodies remind us of their weakness every moment of every day. However, we can’t forget that we are more than our bodies, and that God has given us another, greater tool: our minds.

Here’s what I’ve learned about my mind this year.

At the end of April, after coming through some rough months physically and emotionally, God blessed me with a ray of clarity that shone into my mind and, for a short time, allowed me to function a little better. In that place of clarity, I decided to walk a mile every day for the next forty days. It was also during that time that I stepped back from my usual Bible reading routine to dive deep into the gospels. 

The clouds returned after that day of clarity, but the decision to walk remained. So did the willpower. There were some days it took twice as long, and days when it took everything I had to put one foot in front of another, but I went outside and walked every day. 

By the end of forty days, I had walked over fifty miles. I was humbled, pleased, and buoyed by this accomplishment: that after so many months (even years) of inactivity I could move again, and that after so many failures, changes, and disappointments I could finally reach a goal and do what I set my mind to do. 

I aimed for ninety days and kept walking. I didn’t keep up with every single day, giving myself grace on a really bad day or when I ran out of time, but I maintained an average of walking at least five days a week. I walked when there was smoke from wildfires (it wasn’t an unhealthy level). I walked when there was snow and ice on the ground (I wore my boots). I walked when it was dark outside (my apartment complex is well lit and I always have my phone). 

And I learned:

I can do what I really want to do. 

If I want to walk a mile—no matter how I feel or what the weather or where I am—I can. 

If I want to go to work—whether actually leaving my apartment and driving downtown or moving my bed and setting up my room for online teaching—I can. 

If I want to see my best friend, I can (though I’ve canceled on her plenty of times too). 

If I want to go to church, I can.

(Generally speaking, of course. There are still times when, no matter how badly I want to do something, I absolutely don’t have the capacity or am hindered by significant symptoms.) 

More recently, as I reflected on my personal blog: if I want to write my book, I can write my book, even if it means delaying a meal or putting off work to the next day or making time later to finish another project. 

More close to home and more convicting: if I want to pray every day, I can. If I want to help someone from church, I can. If I want to get victory in an area of my life, I can. 

Granted, there are levels of wants: the tier 1 priorities that absolutely must get done, the tier 2 priorities that should get done, the tier 3 priorities that can get done if there’s room after tier 1 and tier 2, and so on. 

And there are, of course, legitimate limitations—physical, financial, and otherwise. I’m not saying that a bedridden girl should go run a marathon. Or that a woman too ill to work and support herself should make an expensive investment. 

But there can be ways to do what we really want to do. 

The question I’ve been asking myself—and I ask you—is, What do you really want to do? 

Chronic Illness vs. Excuses

I recently watched this video that my friend shows to his high school classes:

Interestingly enough, this same principle shows up in Scripture. Proverbs 22:13 says,

The lazy man says, “There is a lion outside!
I shall be slain in the streets!

Is there really a lion in the streets? No. 

So what is this? A lie. 

The lazy man will come up with lies—for himself and for others—to justify why he can’t do what needs to be done, or even what he wants to do. 

And if you’re like me, this is where you might get your hackles up with the same defense I’ve given: I’m not lazy—I have health issues. I genuinely can’t. 

I understand. I have chronic illness too, though it likely isn’t the same as yours. Everybody’s health situation is different. As a result, only you and the Holy Spirit know your true capacity at any given point. 

I can’t be your Holy Spirit. That’s not my intent here. But I can share what I’ve learned about my own mind, my own capacity, and my own will, and hope you might be encouraged to similarly examine your mind, your capacity, and your will, especially when it comes to spiritual matters.

It’s easy to fall back on our poor health as a reason to not give our best effort, to not cultivate our spiritual growth, or to not obey God. 

Again, chronic illness can be a legitimate limitation. Brain fog, muscle weakness, migraines, allergies, sensitivities, and so on are real. I know this. And God knows this. Sometimes we can’t go to church, can’t read, can’t focus, or can’t serve in the same way as other people.

But are we giving up too soon? Too easily? Too readily? 

Or are we fighting for these priorities? 

Are we letting the obstacles roll us over, or are we finding creative, Spirit-empowered ways over the obstacles?

If you don’t like to talk about giving up, give yourself some comparisons instead. For example: I may skimp on my prayer time because my brain is tired, but I will still sit down (or lie down) to grade papers or write a blog post or add a chapter to my novel. I may miss church because my body is exhausted, but I went to work two days ago even though I had a headache and nausea and tremors. I may avoid fasting because I believe my body needs that nutrition, but I’ll miss a meal if I’m extra tired or not hungry or on an unusual schedule. (I’m not proud of these admissions, okay?)

Willpower is hard when you have chronic illness. I know—I’ve been through seasons of zero physical capacity that come accompanied by deep mental depression. Though I’ve seen enormous improvement this year (thank God), I still see this correlation between mind and body: the days my health tanks and I physically struggle to get out of bed, my mind tanks and I lose almost all willpower to do the things I love and want (and need) to do. 

Over the past months, however, I’ve seen how much I can push through even those days to step up and deliver, to show up and perform, to get up and do. Especially when I have no choice but to cry out to God and ask Him for His strength. 

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone to work or driven to church or sat down to a project with what feels like negative capacity, begging God to get me through, and He does. I’ve had so many “miracle days” this year, getting to the end of a day astounded by the clear way God held me on my feet and gave me the strength and wisdom I needed. 

And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Chronic Illness vs. Truth

Chronic illness takes a lot from us. Yet the point I would like to make is that when we really set our minds and lean into God, chronic illness isn’t always the bad guy we think it is. 

Sometimes that bad guy is us, when what we believe about ourselves isn’t true. 

My goal is not to come rolling in with a neon sign and a cheesy grin to tell you with flamboyant fake energy, “You can do anything!” 

When we have chronic illness, there’s an enormous list of things we can’t do. This is reality. And it stinks. 

Rather, my goal is to remind you that even though we have a limited number of spoons—more limited than most—we still have the power to choose how we use those spoons, and we shouldn’t be cheating God of any one of them. That sometimes our own minds take away spoons we really do have. And that sometimes God multiplies spoons the same way He multiplied the loaves and fishes—when we give those spoons to Him in faith. 

So what do you really want? Do you really want to know God and live like Jesus? Do you really want to be in the Word and put the Word into you? Do you really want to obey God’s commands, no matter what that looks like for you compared to what it looks like for other people?

What lies about yourself are you believing? Whether they come from inside yourself or from outside, these limiting beliefs can hold you back the way a faulty engine holds back a plane from taking off.

If you’re not in a place where you can independently establish priorities, set goals, and identify desires, reach out to someone who can help you. Often a perceptive eye from outside can help us see what we ourselves are blind to, if we’re humble enough to receive it. 

As I step into this new year, I’ve been challenged to “ponder the path of [my] feet” (Prov 4:26), “understand [my] way” (Prov 14:8), and “consider well [my] steps” (Prov 14:15). The psalmist similarly writes in Psalm 119:59, “I thought about my ways, and turned my feet to Your testimonies.”

I want to examine my ways and, with the help of the Holy Spirit, make sure every part of my life aligns with God’s Word. 

I invite you to join me.

Lord, show us any part of our minds, our hearts, our wills, and our desires that is not based on truth or Your will. Help us not try to correct our outward actions but to yield to You our inward affections so You can shape our hearts to be like Yours. The actions, thoughts, words, and decisions will follow.