A few years ago, my wrists caused me a lot of pain. Typing and playing piano were the culprits, but it spread to sharp pain even in simple daily activities like cleaning or driving. I had to wear wrist guards/braces and ice packs, even during my college classes which was at least moderately embarrassing.
In early 2011, I was experiencing one of these bouts of pain at my pastor’s house and my pastor’s wife decided to pray for me. “God can heal you!” she said. So she held my wrists, said a simple prayer asking for healing, and immediately I felt warmth pour over my wrists and the pain ceased. I’ve never had to wear wrist guards since then, and even packed them away with all our junk when we moved overseas. It was a testimony of God’s goodness in my life.
Until last night. In the middle of watching a movie, completely out of the blue, “Ooooow!” I exclaimed. “My wrist reeeeeally hurts,” I told Silver. From the best of my knowledge, I did nothing to damage it. The pain arose seemingly from nowhere. And it only grew to the point that I had to keep my wrist nearly completely stationary, an impossible task with a 9 month old nearby. By the time my fingers started tingling like I was losing feeling, Silver left to the nearest late-night pharmacy and bought me a wrist guard. I’ve been wearing it for 12 hours now. The pain is still sharp, but it keeps my wrist stationary enough to be able to pull off typing this post with my fingers.
Despite my unbelief in spiritual things, there’s still this fearful doubting I experience from time to time. And the thought is crossing my mind: Could God have done this to teach me a lesson, to attempt to prove to me he exists and that he’s in control, to show me I’m in a dangerous place?
There are a lot of things wrong with those questions, including the fact that I don’t think belief is a choice. But it still crosses my mind.