Pray for Heidi Day #5: Full and Complete Healing

Scripture excerpts from Isaiah 43, Isaiah 52, Isaiah 54, Isaiah 58, Psalm 62

If the kidneys on day #3 of praying together felt like the Big One, this feels like a mountain so insurmountable, I almost didn’t want to pray about it. I wanted to find something else small–doable–measurable. I love praying about those little things–like the free parking situation that ended up becoming an inside joke between me and God. Or the pacifier miracle. But huge things, like world peace? Violence in Chicago? My realistic side says, well, that’s not going to happen. 

Funny that I wrote four prayer posts prior to this one, and didn’t pray for Heidi’s cancer to go away in a single one. Cancer is the reason Heidi’s sick. And I think, if I’m honest, I almost didn’t pray about it because my realistic side says, yeah–no. Not gonna happen. I asked her primary doctor once, “Is there any scenario in which the cancer would go into remission, and she wouldn’t need a bone marrow transplant at all?” Hear that? Any scenario. The doctor looked me in the eye and said, “No. There is no scenario.”

Here’s the thing about realism. There are two kinds. There’s a healthy, grounded realism that’s basically common sense. Our brain takes past, observable patterns, and assumes the future will align itself with that pattern. This kind of realism might say things like, “If you don’t eat lunch in the next thirty minutes, you’re going to get cranky.” Because, um, that happens every single day. Or, “If you try to carry too many things at once you might drop them.” Correct. Put the baby down.

But there’s another kind that is actually a lack of faith in disguise. The best way to tell the difference, I’m finding, is that the second kind wants to prevent you from praying. It starts out the same–there’s an observable pattern that’s occurred in the past, and you assume the future will map itself onto that pattern. But then, it brings you to a full stop. Maybe, like me, it doesn’t even occur to you to pray about the thing that’s troubling you, or stressing you out, or driving you to tears, because we think we already know what’s going to happen.

This false realism wants to stop hope before it even starts. It shows you a vision of the future that seems wager-worthy. It pretends it’s common sense, and can even feel like a certain kind of wisdom. But friends, don’t be deceived. If it stops you from crying out to God, it’s the work of the enemy. False realism tells me, Heidi will not recover immediately. Be real. Best case scenario, it will happen progressively, and with the right treatment plan.

The thing is, maybe it will be so. Maybe Heidi will respond to the medications, get a transplant, and get better from there. And that would be a great outcome! But if that little voice of “most likely scenario” stops me from taking the request to God for complete and immediate healing, it’s actually a lack of faith.

The person of faith, I’m convinced, can take that realism, tell it to sit down, and then pray their heart out for the impossible. Because God is a pattern breaker. And we can approach him any time we want–in fact, he wants us to. So why not ask? Are we perhaps afraid that if we ask, and it doesn’t come true, our faith will prove empty? (I am) Are we afraid that if God doesn’t do what we ask, we’ll be so disappointed and crushed that our faith will wither away? (I am) Friends, let’s let go of those fears. Let God deal with the outcome. Will he always do what we want, when we want it? Not always. But that cannot stop us from praying.

Trust in him at all times, O people;
pour out your heart before him;
God is a refuge for us.

God, we want you to drive the cancer out of Heidi’s blood. Take the root of all these other sicknesses and yank it out.

No weapon that is fashioned against you shall prosper,
and you shall confute every tongue that rises against you in judgment.
This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord
and their vindication from me, says the Lord.

We want complete healing for Heidi. I’d be happy if you got her through transplant and she was healed that way. But in the spirit of asking for what I truly want, no matter how impossible, I ask that she miraculously won’t even need a transplant. That the situation her doctor said would not happen in any scenario will happen. That the cancer will leave, with no trace in her body remaining, and that doctors and nurses will have no idea what happened.

The Lord has bared his holy arm
before the eyes of all the nations;
and all the ends of the earth shall see
the salvation of our God.

Full healing, God. That’s what we want. Not partial healing. Not survival with a life-long struggle of graft-versus-host after her transplant. Not survival with weird after-effects. Not survival with damaged organs and a weakened heart. Full, complete, all-encompassing healing that restores Heidi in every detail of her body.

God, this is what I want for my sister. Bring us there. Only you can.

Perhaps because this is such an all-encompassing request, I don’t have much else to say, God. it seems unbelievable that you would even do it, not to mention all at once. But in the spirit of bold prayer, dear pattern-breaking Father who broke the claim of death on us:

Please heal Heidi completely today, June 14th. Bring her healing swiftly like that passage Erica opened to in the hospital.

Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly;
your vindicator shall go before you,
the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.

Let it spring up quickly. Let the doctors be like, what the **** just happened? Let all of us stand in amazement, and laugh, and cry, and fall to our knees in worship, because we don’t serve the God of history who only acted in ancient times, but the great I Am, the God of Abraham who is also my God, the one to whom the victory belongs, the one who loves us with a love that’s not small and weak and fickle but so huge we can’t escape it, or do anything to lessen it. Rain down your love and power, for everyone who knows Heidi to see who you are, to know you are real, and to be blinded by the glory of your good news, which is real and active and strong and beautiful and worth clinging to like our life depends on it–because it does.

Let all the nations gather together,
and let the peoples assemble.
Who among them declared this,
and foretold to us the former things?
Let them bring their witnesses to justify them,
and let them hear and say, “It is true.”
You are my witnesses, says the Lord,
and my servant whom I have chosen,
so that you may know and believe me
and understand that I am he.

I believe you, God.

Before me no god was formed,
nor shall there be any after me.
I, I am the Lord,
and besides me there is no savior.

I know it, God! There’s no one besides you.

I declared and saved and proclaimed,
when there was no strange god among you;
and you are my witnesses, says the Lord.
I am God, and also henceforth I am He;
there is no one who can deliver from my hand;
I work and who can hinder it?

God, let Heidi’s cornerstone passage of Isaiah 54 come true today.

O afflicted one, storm-tossed, and not comforted,
I am about to set your stones in antimony,
and lay your foundations with sapphires.
I will make your pinnacles of rubies,
your gates of jewels,
and all your wall of precious stones.
All your children shall be taught by the Lord,
and great shall be the prosperity of your children.
In righteousness you shall be established;
you shall be far from oppression, for you shall not fear;
and from terror, for it shall not come near you.

Amen.

Pray for Heidi Day #4: Gospel Fire

Scripture passages from Isaiah 26, Isaiah 42, Isaiah 49

Since Heidi was diagnosed with cancer last Christmas, as her older sister and soulmate, I have existed in many, many different emotional states:

-Deep darkness. You can read about that here.

-Total trust and hope and joy in God.

-Day-to-day ordinariness when I try not to think about it all–just stay in motion, from coffee to work to school pick-up to dinner to reading and writing to bed–because it’s just. Too. Much.

-Intense anxiety, which has manifested itself in a near panic attack, shingles (yep, the rumors are true: they hurt), shortness of breath, eye twitches, removal from social spheres, and an inability to respond to Evites (you heard it here first).

-Supernatural peace.

-Constant crying.

My favorite of these states, to be obvious, is total trust in God. I was there just a few weeks ago. It was a beautiful time. It wasn’t just about peace, but about a gospel fire that for weeks felt like it was literally burning in my chest. I was learning things about the gospel, not just in an intellectual way, but in a holistic way, and I couldn’t shut up about it all. I felt its beauty. I felt the goodness of God. I felt the gorgeous vastness of the things I can’t understand. I was small, and safe, and exposed, and protected, and I absolutely had to tell everyone about it. It was a physical feeling, an emotional state, an awareness. It was sorrow and awe and longing. It was hunger and desire and purpose. I loved feeling that way. There was still lots of crying–but paired with intense worship.

In the path of your judgments,
O Lord, we wait for you;
your name and your renown
are the soul’s desire.

So . . . this is my prayer for Heidi today. God, that you would break through the barriers of physical pain, and depression, and the mental trap of long-term illness that demands all of Heidi’s attention, and ignite Heidi’s heart with gospel fire.

My soul yearns for you in the night,
my spirit within me earnestly seeks you.
For when your judgments are in the earth,
the inhabitants of the world learn righteousness.

Light her up with the beauty of your good news, with the glory of who you are and who we are in you, with the firmness of your promises, with the steadfastness of your grip on your children. That she would find herself worshiping, the horrors of her illness paling as your glory shines brighter and brighter.

And that she would testify. To doctors, nurses, friends, acquaintances, strangers. That she would be so full of your beauty that it would burst forth, because it has to.

Heidi’s purpose in life is to be a light to the nations, God. I’ll never forget when she told me that raising her kids to be lovers of God was not her life purpose. It was too small. She read me this passage:

It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel; I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.

That verse is Heidi’s life calling.

God, I’ve never known someone with such gospel vision as Heidi. With such a pure desire to spread your good news as far as she could. You know that she lived out this vision with her daily decisions, getting up before 5 in the morning sometimes to meet and read the Bible with a friend, forming prayer groups, leading Bible studies, caring for the real needs of the people around her–giving her time, her money, her energy.

God, Heidi has been such a tremendous witness to you. You know how many people she has ministered to over the years. All the women she’s read the Bible with, met with, prayed with, many of whom are praying for her now.

Don’t let her light go out. Don’t let the illness snuff out this mission that you ignited her heart with. Fan the flame in Heidi and let it ignite so many others . . . more than she can count.

God, I pray very specifically that you would give Heidi someone to minister to now. Bring someone along who is spiritually younger, someone Heidi can mentor and teach, even during this time. Remind Heidi that you’re not done with her yet. Give her a job, and the strength to do it.

I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness,
I have taken you by the hand and kept you;
I have given you as a covenant to the people,
a light to the nations,
to open the eyes that are blind,
to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,
from the prison those who sit in darkness.

Let the fruit of Heidi’s sickness be a whole new crop of people who put their trust in you. And let Heidi witness this herself.

The children born in the time of your bereavement
will yet say in your hearing:
“The place is too crowded for me;
make room for me to settle.”
Then you will say in your heart,
Who has borne me these?
I was bereaved and barren,
exiled and put away—
so who has reared these?
I was left all alone—
where then have these come from?”

Put Heidi’s cancer to work for your kingdom, and let it become one more story of her powerful ministry.