My Testimony: Wrestling Match With God

    So, after everything I've been through this last year, I think it's time for me to share my testimony. And I will warn, I didn't do everything right, in fact, looking back, I messed up a lot... but I digress...

I've mentioned some of my physical struggles and emotional struggles in posts, but I haven't talked too much about my emotional battles, particular my two month spiritual war with God himself.

    I can see what you're thinking already... +gasp+ He had fought and argued with God??? HERETIC!! But wait, hear me out. I have a testimony to share.

    First of all, let's remember that it is very human and very biblical to wrestle with God.  Things will happen in your life that will make your faith shake and you struggle with what God is doing in your life. But before I take us down that rabbit hole, let's look at what God's Word says about the subject...

We can find the first mention of the subject back in Genesis chapter 32. After running away from home to escape his brother twenty years earlier, Jacob and his family is returning to Canaan. At the time, Jacob is terrified, because his brother is on the way to meet him, and he's coming with an army of 400 men.

So, Jacob, to make sure his whole family isn't destroyed, split up into two camps, and he goes off alone to try to clear his mind and pray. but a strange man shows up and starts to wrestle him interrupting that plan. The wrestling match lasts all night.

At some point, Jacob realizes that this man he's wrestling with is none other than God himself.  At daybreak, God decides to stop playing, and dislocates Jacob's hip. but Jacob, in all his stubbornness refuses to let go of God. Genesis 32: 26-28 shows this exchange.

Then he said "let me go, for the day has broken." But Jacob said ''I will not let you go unless you bless me.' and he said to him, "What is your name?" and he said "Jacob". Then he said "Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with men and prevailed." Then Jacob asked him, "Please, tell me your name." But he said "Why is it that you ask my name?" And there He blessed him. So Jacob called the name of the place Peniel, saying "For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life has been delivered." 

I struggled with this odd passage for a long time. it was always interesting how at this point the nation of Israel received its name through the final patriarch, the grandson of Abraham and Sarah.

But why did God come and wrestle with Jacob when Jacob was frightened and struggling with fear of the approaching threat of his brother? Why didn't God come with comfort and reassurance?

It's because Jacob didn't need comfort or reassurance. He needed something else. And while he may have been reassured had God came to him peacefully in a dream as he had before, but while he had a broken body from the encounter, his faith in God had increased and grown more than it had throughout the whole written description of his life.

I admit I have been passive in my life with God. I've asked and prayed for things, but I've always been the submissive type toward God since the day of my salvation. I just rolled with God's plan for my life and let things wash off my shoulder. and there's nothing wrong with that. God wants us to trust Him and believe that His will for our life is for our good.

But, what happens when you reach a season in your life that it doesn't feel like His will is for your good? It wasn't a long season, but it was long enough. And it felt a great deal longer than it actually was.

As I talked about in earlier entries, in August of this past year, I received a kidney transplant, God was all over it. my friend Debbie was my donor, and it was an incredibly close match. I even had a supernatural experience going into surgery that reaffirmed me that God was with me in that. I may talk about that in another blog post (Stay tuned!).

Anyways...

Before the surgery, I had an idol of control. I had to have a plan a-z. And even going into the surgery, I had it all planned out. I was going to be in the hospital 3-5 days, be home and walking around within a few weeks. soon as I was cleared to drive, I was going to go up to Louisville and spend some time with the girl I cared about and try to build a stronger relationship, then go back to work asap. And why shouldn't I? I was young. I was healthy. I was strong. People called me Superman, and I bought the hype.

I had forgotten that I was only Superman because I drew my power from the Lord. And He had other ideas.

I came out of surgery feeling miserable. I felt terrible. I hurt. I was weak. I was sick. And after a whole week after the surgery, it was starting to get hard for the techs and nurses to draw my blood.

Sunday after my surgery, Dr Kokko, who was starting to get concerned because instead of getting better and stronger, I was getting weaker, and the new Kidney was not wanting to work at all.

He ordered an ultrasound and it showed some pockets of blood around the kidney and both Dr. Kokko and Dr. Fisher (the surgeon) said that was likely my problem, and wouldn't take just 15-30 minutes to clean up the blood and patch me back up and I should start feeling better.

Fast forward six hours, and I was being rolled into ICU with four IVs, and tubes coming out of my side. I was bleeding to death and didn't even know it. It took them six hours to clean up the mess, my stomach muscles were shredded from the swelling and bleeding and the sutures busting loose, and overall it was just a bad situation.

It doesn't stop there.

After the surgery, my stomach and intestines wouldn't wake up. And I was starting to swell again, this time from gas. the only way to help me, was to run a tube down my nose, down my throat into my stomach to pump fluids and gas out. sorry if that's too much info, or gross, but just wanting to paint the overall picture.

moving on, finally got my innards working, and I finally started to build strength and was able to start getting up and walk. I was taking a beating, but I was tough. I took it like a champ, but I was starting to get discouraged.

After two weeks in the hospital, I was finally healthy enough to go home. And I apologize if this is gross, but the stapled up wound on my belly began to leak almost immediately on the drive home from Chattanooga. I admit I was a little hurt that the young woman I had feelings for never came to see me while I was in the hospital, but I shook that off. She was out of state, and I still had a weak immune system from the transplant. I told myself it was for my own good that I didn't have many visitors anyway, and it wasn't like I wasn't keeping in contact with her on Facebook and text message.

Once I was home, I tried to sleep in my own bed, but found that I really couldn't because of the size of my bed and various reasons prevented me from being able to sleep in my preferred position of on my stomach. So, we transformed the couch in the living room into a make shift bed, where I could lay with a pillow so that I could stay on my back or side, without being able to roll on over. shouldn't be there long so no big deal, right? wrong...

But I have to also note, when you're down you see who your real friends are.

My best friend from high school and a friend I met through him was there at my door the day after I got home with two Hot and Ready Pizzas from Little Caesars. another of my best friends was there that week as well. Even a friend I had gotten pretty close with at work was there almost every week to check on me and see what he could do. Even brought me THREE cards full of signatures from people at work wishing me well. Another old friend from high school would call often and just talk my ear off while I was laying there mostly drugged up in the hospital... Another actually snuck in to the ICU.

Anyway, it wasn't too bad for a while. I had previously started to gain interest in photography, between the girl and a few other friends of mine sharing amazing pictures on social media, and watching a couple of them seem to have so much fun taking pictures, my interest was peaked. plus she had started to try to make a side business of her own with photography, and I wanted to try to help her out with editing and what-not. And hey, you never know? We could have fun taking pictures together once I was back on my feet! So I used my down time to learn how to better work a camera and ordered a better camera to use.

Yet, I could feel something was wrong with us, me and her. She had come down to TN for work, but skipped out on coming to see me. I admit I was a little hurt and disappointed, but I knew she seemed busy the whole time she was in the state and spent most of the time several hours away. Amazing what rose colored glasses can do... anyway

We spent time together, but we never officially dated. And before the surgery I was really shy and awkward around her. part of it was I wasn't sure exactly how to deal with differences between us that were important to her, I knew they were important to her, but I struggled with how to explain how I felt we could work them out, and part of it was I getting weak from my failing kidney and didn't feel well, and was kinda in a holding pattern with her and so many other things in my life while I was waiting on the kidney, even before I got on the transplant list, a part of me knew it was coming.

Then at a point during the three months of struggles, something happened that gave me a ray of happiness. During a conversation, she needled out of me and got me to confess my feelings for her. It was so freeing and felt so good to finally tell her how I felt about her freely. Oh, I knew she didn't feel the same way at the time, but I was determined to bide my time and be there for her until she saw that how I felt was the real deal.

That moment of calm and happiness was just the calm of the storm.

I went back to get my stitches taken out, and I asked them, are they sure it's not too soon, because it was still a little leaky. Doctor didn't see a problem and out they came. I left the surgeon office and rode with my mom to the transplant office for my appointment there. As I was being rolled into the office in a wheelchair, I felt my shirt getting wet. I looked at it in confusion, and pulled it up. And to my horror, the wound on my belly was beginning to open up. the nurses there put tape on the wound and gave us instructions on how to take care of it, and if it got worse to call the surgeon.

what started with a hole the size of a finger tip in the center of the wound, over the course of twenty four hours opened up to the size of a half dollar. You could see the mesh pouch that the new kidney was in...

needless to say, my parents rushed me to the surgeon office first thing the next day. the doctor inspected the wound, and said he couldn't sow it back up, because it wasn't just opened, it had hollowed out "tunnels" under my skin for several inches. If he had sowed it up, it would make a pocket and easily get infected.

He got me in with home health and wound-care and got a wound pump on it to try to at least slow it down from growing. And it was stressful because I was running out of FMLA time at work. And I didn't want to lose my job.

And that pump... I hated that thing with a passion...

It was loud and noisy 24/7. I couldn't rest, and it was hard to move because of the hose that ran from the bulky pump to the wound. It was especially bad at night. even with my parents and my circle of friends who stayed with me, texted me, called me, I was so ... lonely. I hinted a few times for her to come and see me, just wanting to see her. But I knew she couldn't, she had to help take care of her dad, help her mom, and her finances were very tight. She did start taking a photography class, and I was happy to see her meet a friend there. I knew she was struggling with loneliness, her only real friend there I knew of was her mom and her dog. But I was getting some red flags. she was spending a LOT of time with this friend of hers.

I was just playing when I brought it up that I hope it wasn't a cute guy...

I was just playing...

She finally told me that just within that last week or so, she'd only known him a few weeks, that she really liked him, and they had been talking and she was planning to date him. And she said she had been struggling with how to tell me without hurting my feelings. There really wasn't a way. I loved her and this broke my heart.

It tore me greatly, because on one hand she had hurt me, but on the other... I saw pictures, and continue to see pictures of her with them, and while I know she had her struggles, when I see them together. She's happy. And I was happy that she was happy... I love to see her smile reach her eyes. It's the most beautiful sight I think I could ever see. I just wasn't happy and hurt that it wasn't with me that caused it. I can't blame her. We weren't official or anything, and long distance made a difficult situation more difficult. And even still, I can't bring myself to stay mad at her.

Yet, the struggles from surgery, the wound pump, the wound that didn't seem to be healing, time running out on my time off from work, and then her meeting someone else was the straw that broke the camel's back.

I got angry. I took it out on her. I took it out on my folks. I took it out on my friends. I especially took it out on God.

How could He allow all this?

I'd been faithful. I've tried to live my life for his glory. so why? why did he put me on the couch with a open wound attached to a machine and a broken heart at the same time?

I was angry at God. It was Him. I knew God was in control. So why did He letting me go through all this physical and emotional pain? I spent so many nights just staring out the window, mentally and sometime verbally "praying" angry rants at Him. Many of which were using words that shouldn't be in a Believer's mind or mouth.

I was so upset with everything going on in my life. I demanded to know why, I demanded for my way, I demanded.

But God just kept taking my angry verbal jabs, while I remained on my back, on the couch, listening to that stupid pump run.

it wasn't till a friend accidentally sent me a bible verse meant for someone else, which God meant for no one else but me, that I realized my error, and God 'busted my hip'.

it was from the book of Matthew, two verses in particular, from the episode when Jesus walked on water to the Disciples.

He (Jesus) said "Come". So, Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, "Lord, save me!" Jesus immediately reached out His hand and took hold of him, saying to him, "Oh, you of little faith... why did you doubt?" 

"Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?"

"Oh Dusty, you of little faith, why did you doubt?"

"Why did you doubt?"

"Why did I doubt?"

Why did I?

After that hit I cried for hours. all the while I was praying, and spiritually clinging to my Father.

I was crying out, LORD SAVE ME!

I couldn't do this alone. I wasn't strong enough. I'm not strong enough. I'm not Superman. I'm not even Clark Kent.

I am weak, and powerless, and helpless, sinking in these raging seas with this horrid storm all around me. It took wrestling and fighting with God, having a period of anger toward him and feeling of helplessness to realize I truly was. And He was the one who had power and He was the one in authority. My idol of control couldn't save me. I couldn't save me.

Only God could. But I had to find out who God is first, even though I thought I already knew.

I didn't even know the peak of the iceberg.

It took me going into a storm, and being pushed to confront God, for me to see Him for who he truly is.

And my wound began to really start healing at that point, to the surprise of my doctors. Dr. Kokko and Dr Torbett even told me that they had nothing to do with it. God healed my wound, they were just keeping it from getting worse and infected till they figured out how to fix it with surgery.

All the while He was with me, even when I hated Him, even when I was yelling at Him. even when I was hurt and upset at my life not going the way I wanted it to. He was working all things out for my good. He was standing over me while I was spitting at Him. While I was demanding to know why He had left me, He was protecting me.

Through every moment of pain, emotional and physical hurt, through every clinched teeth and fallen tear, His arms were around me, and He was grieving with me. He never left my side, no matter how much I fought Him.

And all the while, He was teaching me. I didn't need a plan. I didn't need a back up plan. I didn't need a girlfriend or fiance or wife.

I need Him.

And He's enough.

I pray that I will always remember this lesson. I have chosen to not treat my scar with anything to make it fade to keep it as long as I can to remind me. That even though the hardest, most painful of storms, no matter how I want this or that to happen.

My God is enough.

I wrestled with God, and held on through it all. And He blessed me. Not with perfect health, even though I am healed and healthy, not with completely confident and secure employment, not with the girl I love and my helper chosen by Him for me, even though I am confident she is out there.

No, he blessed me with something greater than those things.

I saw Him.

I grew closer than I had ever been in 35 years of life.

I grew closer than all the years I've had the Holy Spirit living within me as a Christian.

I got my God.

I got my Abba Father.

And He isn't just enough.

He's more than.

And I'm thankful for three months of storm, and even the after effects of everything that still hit my body and heart.

Because He is enough.