Lord, I am willing.

I woke up a second time in the recovery room. Once more I felt like I was observing a passage in the book of John chapter five. There were crowds of sick people. Some were blind, some were lame and paralyzed. There was the smell of sickness in the air; there was the noise of moaning. Then I saw Him. It was Jesus.

Although there was a multitude of sick people, Jesus was walking towards one particular man laying on his bedroll. This man appeared to have staked a claim on his spot and it was obvious he had been there a long time. Jesus asked him, "Do you want to get well?" It was a question the man didn't answer. Everyone faded, and it was just me and Jesus. This time I was the one He was asking; this time I was the one who didn't answer.

It was three years ago that I found out I had a brain tumor. I am embarrassed to say that my first reaction was that this would make me special. You see, the lie that was planted when I was just a little child was always looking for the chance to ensnare me. That old familiar voice whispered the same old lie but in a different way. "If you have a brain tumor that will make you special. That will make you somebody."

I struggled against the lie. I knew that my identity wasn't in having a brain tumor but in belonging to Jesus. When people prayed for me they would ask if I believed that Jesus could heal me. "Yes," I would always say, "Yes." Yet, always, deep inside me, there was a struggle. And a question I wrestled with. "Did I really want to be well?" Was I willing to let go of being special, of being somebody?

I was in Neuro ICU for two days. I seemed to be in and out of consciousness. During that time I entered into another chapter of John. This time it was the ninth chapter. It seemed I was there as the disciples were walking past the man born blind. I heard them ask Jesus, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" I felt embarrassed for the man, but then I realized he'd lived with that question all his life. Jesus told them it was neither his parents' sin nor was it his sin that had caused his blindness. He said that this blindness was so that God's glory could be seen in his life.

Suddenly, the scene faded. Once again it was only me and Jesus. I heard Him say, "If you are willing, Sarah, I can make you well. If you let me, I will pull that weed, roots and all, out of your heart. If you let me, I will take your hurts and sorrows and they will become instead a place where the  glory of God can be seen." I only had enough strength to whisper, "Lord, I am willing." But a whisper was all that was needed.