Count It All Joy

Earlier this month, I had my second brain surgery. I’ll save the details for another post, but overall it went very well. One might even go as far as to say it was successful – I haven’t had any high pressure symptoms since.

The recovery process on the other hand was a different story.

While on the surface, all is technically going well, there’s still so much more to recovery that never seems to be seen or heard. Take the post-surgery depression for example.

In all honesty, I don’t even want to call it that because I know how much worse it could truly be. There is just no doubt that emotions run high post-surgery. And this was the very case for me.

I could blame it on the medications, on being halfway sedated on a couch for days. It could all be a part of the medical PTSD I’ve talked about before, going through experiences similar to the ones that drastically altered your life prior. It could simply be a change in routine, not being able to do what you normally do on a day to day basis.

I don’t know. And I currently don’t have any scientific data to back it. All I know is I’ve been through it before, and the enemy wanted to bring me through it again.

So I did what I did last time: I reminded myself I could only get better from here. This was the worst part. I would only recover. The anesthesia would work its way out of my system. I wouldn’t need the pain killers forever. This would all be over soon. Just one more day. One more day. One more day.

Except only five days after surgery, my family was hit with Covid. The devil just loves to kick you when you’re already down.

Sick & Sicker

While my parents had been coming every day to help me post-surgery, I was now instantly responsible for my household again. Sick. Double sick. And yet I was forced to get back on my feet and take care of everything when I could still barely take care of myself.

By this point I was no longer fighting the tears. No longer hiding the emotions that had been building inside of me for days. They were magnified now.

I couldn’t do this. I was supposed to be healing, not getting sick all over again. Not going back to square one, or worse. I didn’t go through another brain surgery for this to happen, not now. I was tired of being sick. And in all honesty, I was tired of praying for healing.

My mind began to torment me. The only activity I cared to use to pass the time was television. At least then I wouldn’t have to think.

For those of you living with a chronic illness, you know what I mean. You know the longing you feel for all the things that once were and all that could be if only you weren’t sick. The past you once could live. The future you dreamed about. All the ‘if only’s’ and ‘what if’s’.

Call it dramatic. Our cases weren’t even severe. A couple days of fever, a lingering cold. How could I think like that when we clearly had it easier than some?

Again, I can’t explain it. I can only chalk it up to this being the mindset that chronic illness places in you. Trauma. Flashbacks. You just fight it the best way you know how till it passes.

I had been here before. I had already undergone this same surgery. I had already spent days slugged out on the couch and nights praying in the bathtub – sick. Sick when I was supposed to be healing.

So whether things could have been worse or not, it doesn’t change the fact that this is where my mind automatically went. I just had to fight it.

Except this time, I couldn’t go cry my eyes out at the church alter. I had to overcome it on my own, where all I could muster through prayer was the Name of Jesus. I was tired and weak.

Searching for Healing

I sought scriptures. “Oh my soul, why are you so disquieted within me?” I knew where my hope lay. I just needed healing. My mind needed healing.

“Count it all joy.” The scriptures said. Count it all joy. It felt like a joke. How could this be joy? Was I really supposed to claim what I clearly could not feel? Still, day and night I repeated it.

I told myself I was only working on my testimony. But if we’re being honest, sometimes you get tired of having testimonies. Sometimes you just want life to work out. You’re tired of the trials, and you’re just ready for the reward. Surely, following Jesus is more than being constantly refined in the fire.

Count it all joy, even through surgery. Even through sickness. Even through the tears.

I was days into this second sickness when I saw a video that the pastor’s wife had shared, reminding me of the power in praise and worship.

Now this was something I knew. I had shared on this subject personally in the past, and I had lived it almost every day for the past three years. Yet somehow, I had not been doing it.

So on this particular morning, I didn’t reach for the TV remote. Instead, I turned on my music and let the sounds of praise and worship fill our home.

Physically, I had spent the past several days fighting for my health. I had forced myself off of the couch and out for short walks. I had fed myself every possible nutritious food and drink I could think of. I was determined to get better.

But spiritually, I was starving.

If you’ve ever been sick or spent time in the hospital, you know there is one key factor that will determine the rate and success of your recovery – getting up out of that hospital bed.

If you remain stagnant in that bed, your health will do the same. But if you can simply get up, you are that much closer to getting out. And if you can get out, then you almost always will heal more quickly at home.

My physical body had fought to get up and get out of that sick state. But my spirit man was still very much there.

Pressing In

I knew that praise had always been my weapon, but I needed to wield it now – not just a song or two, but I needed to press in.

At first, it hurt. I can’t tell you how much it hurt. These were the same songs that had gotten me through so much in the past. So naturally, all the memories came flooding in again – and all the tears.

But I couldn’t stop. I had to overcome it. This was what I needed. The enemy didn’t like it, but my spirit man craved it.

I felt weak, spiritually weak. But just like when your physical body needs sustenance to make it through, my spirit man needed something. And this music was just that.

As the music played, God pressed upon my spirit that we needed to do more. Armies of angels were fighting for us, and we needed to help push through their enemy line. We needed to do a prayer walk around our home.

I had done this when we first moved in, when Covid first hit. I had been wanting to do it again, but I always put it off. I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer.

I told my husband I was going to do a prayer walk if he wanted to come too. I couldn’t even get the full sentence out without my voice breaking. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to submit to the emotions that had been trying to eat me alive for days. At first it seemed the only prayer I could even get out was for God to please prevent me from crying. I just wanted to pray.

And pray we did. The front porch, the yard, the fence line. Praying even when we didn’t have the words. My husband brought out his guitar for a more personal worship, and I grabbed a bottle of oil. Together, we began anointing our home and praying.

Inside, outside, in and out again. I grabbed scriptures and spoke them over our home. Every doorway, every room, every corner I could reach.

Count it all joy. Count it all joy. The tears subsided, but God said, “Don’t rush it. Press in. Don’t stop. Don’t give up. Keep running the race.”

Breakthrough

The enemy wanted me isolated, quarantined from all that my spirit needed. But God said count it all joy.

That very day, I got out of that hospital bed of depression and isolation, of sickness and despair. I fed my spirit man the nutritional truth it needed. I covered our home and our bodies with the Word of God. I was going to be free from that bondage of sickness, both mental and physical. This was the breakthrough.

I kept the praise and worship playing every day all day, just like I always had before. My daily walks were accompanied by sermons from pastors. My nights were comforted by scriptures. My health was restored, but even more, so was my spirit.

You see, there is a reason why Weather in April is an outreach of health and wellness for the body and the spirit. Because it doesn’t matter if we have the healthiest diet in the world if our spirit man is starving. It doesn’t matter if we run laps every day if we aren’t running the spiritual race we were called to run.

Running the race means getting up out of that spiritually sick bed. It means gaining endurance. And the only way to gain endurance is by keeping our focus on Jesus. Jesus, Who endured the cross by keeping His focus on one thing – the joy set before Him.

So count it all joy, my friends. Count it all joy!