I want it all

She shifted in her seat and her T-shirt sleeve slipped up an inch or two revealing three red marks on her upper arm. I reached across the table and touched them gently, filled with love and heartbreak.

“These are new,” I said softly. “Aren’t they?”

Her face dropped in shame. She reached up and adjusted her shirt sleeve so that the cuts were once again concealed. After a few moments of silence, she looked up, feigning nonchalance.

“They’re no big deal,” she told me, as if trying to convince herself. “You’ve seen the other ones. These are nothing compared to those. Really. It’s fine.”

“No,” I pressed as gently as I could and pulled up the sleeve of my own T-shirt, revealing my unmarked skin. “THIS is fine.”

Her eyes welled with tears and I felt my own beginning to build and quickly blinked them back.

“Listen to me. We’re not comparing brokenness to brokenness, okay? We’re comparing brokenness to healed.”

She shook her head. “I just don’t think it can get any better,” she whispered hopelessly. “I think I just need to make peace with…this. This might just be the way it’s going to be, you know?”

“Bullshit,” I growled at her. “That is a lie and you know it.”

I went on to tell her of a struggle of my own. My therapist recommended making peace with less than total healing. I refused.

“It’s not enough,” I had told her. “I want it all.”

I told her of a mutual friend of ours who struggled with anxiety and how she recently told me she was getting used to not being able to take a full breath. I was horrified and told her that she should NOT be getting USED TO not being able to BREATHE. We could do better than that. She promised to get more help and to tell God that she wanted it all. All the healing she could receive.

I reminded my friend Who we were talking about here. The all-powerful, all-knowing, all-EVERYTHING God who spent much of His brief time on earth healing people. Jesus even told a parable of persistence in Luke 18:

Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up. He said: “In a certain town there was a judge who neither feared God nor cared what people thought. And there was a widow in that town who kept coming to him with the plea, ‘Grant me justice against my adversary.’

“For some time he refused. But finally he said to himself, ‘Even though I don’t fear God or care what people think, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will see that she gets justice, so that she won’t eventually come and attack me!’”

And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God bring about justice for His chosen ones, who cry out to Him day and night? Will He keep putting them off? I tell you, He will see that they get justice, and quickly. However, when the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on the earth?” (vv. 1-8).

I’ve spent a great deal of energy in my life trying to be low maintenance, not demanding and not presumptuous. But you know what I’m starting to realize? God can handle it.

He doesn’t need me to be polite with my requests. He doesn’t get annoyed with persistence. In fact, He wants it, encourages it. He has never told me that I’m too needy or ask for too much. Honestly, I think He’s trying to teach me to ask for even MORE. The only time Jesus is ever mentioned as being ‘amazed’ in scripture is because of someone’s impressive faith.

I prayed for my friend later that day and finally released the tears I had been holding in. I told God I wanted it all, for her. TOTAL healing. I was reminded again how much easier it is to pray for other people than myself and resolved to come back to my own junk later.

A couple of days after that conversation, my friend called me. Some doors had opened and suddenly new treatment options were coming to light, maybe even coming to pass.

“I guess all your prayers worked,” she told me. I could hear the tentative hope in her voice. She promised to keep me informed, we hung up and for about the zillionth time in my life, I wished Jesus were standing next to me in person so I could dive into His arms.

I recently preached a sermon on one of my favorite Bible stories, the healing at Bethesda in John 5. I remembered the Ziploc baggie in my closet that held the dirt I gathered from the site when I was in Israel and vowed to send her some.

Jesus words rang in my head as I filled the tiny bottle.

Do you want to get well?

I carefully scooped the holy ground into a small jar until the jar was full and the bag was empty.

Well, do you?

I was startled. Do I what?

Want to get well? 

I sighed. Lord, this isn’t about me…

Yes, it is. It’s also about you. You believe My miracles for others. You tell others of My love, My grace, My peace beyond understanding, My joy unspeakable. So I’m asking: Do YOU want to get well?

I pushed the cork into the top of the jar forcefully in frustration. Yes, Lord. Of COURSE I do.

So why have you stopped asking?

I sighed again, suddenly filled with sadness. Lord, it hurts. It hurts to even think about. And then my chest and throat get tight and I have to go take a Klonapin. I end up crying tears that never seem to run out. And I’m tired of it. I’m tired of the sadness. I’m tired of the anxiety. I’m tired of the brokenness. And I’m so, so tired of the problem. I’m just…tired.

There was a pause.

I was there that day in your therapist’s office. I heard what you said. You said, ‘I want it all.’ It was so stubborn and sure and beautiful. I was so proud. 

You didn’t answer though.

I felt the familiar warmth of His smile. Not yet, my girl. I’m still working on it. This is bigger than you. This healing will heal many more than those just directly involved. You know that no moment is wasted. I am using every second to change and grow and prepare.

I know You are.

Do you? 

Yes! So I shouldn’t have to ask anymore!

There was a familiar pause. He wanted me to hear what I just said.

The asking isn’t for Me. I haven’t forgotten. This one didn’t slip by Me. The asking is for YOU. 

I felt the weight beginning to fall heavy on my chest. I cleared my throat to force it open as it tried to narrow.

Praying isn’t just asking for what you want. Praying is releasing it into My hands. It’s to remove the pressure your chest, relieve the tightness of your throat and calm the storm in your heart. No wonder you’re tired. You haven’t been completing the transaction. Ask…then RELEASE.

I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. I let the balm of His words cover the always-open wounds and rested in them for a moment.

I took another deep breath, straightened my shoulders, cleared my throat one more time, squeezed my eyes shut and summoned all the faith I could find.

Okay, Lord. I turned my face toward heaven and opened my hands to both release and receive.

I want it all.