I spent most of my twenties trying to understand what was wrong with my body. Every morning, I took my basal body temperature. I waited for the slight elevation in internal heat, followed doctor\u2019s instructions, and took a litany of medications. But no matter what we tried, my husband and I couldn\u2019t seem to get or stay pregnant. In the end, my obstetrician suggested I undergo a surgical procedure to determine whether I suffered from undiagnosed endometriosis, a common medical condition for women that can cause a host of uncomfortable symptoms, including infertility. My husband and I agreed that this was our best next step.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the recovery room after surgery, I woke to see my doctor\u2019s face hovering just above me. Anesthesia blurred my vision and softened the world\u2019s sharp edges, but I could see Dr. Barrett\u2019s glasses, her warm gentle smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDo I have it?\u201d I asked. My first question post-consciousness: am I broken? Do I have the incurable condition you feared?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She nodded. \u201cYes,\u201d she said. \u201cYes. You do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I grabbed her hand and squeezed tight. \u201cThank you,\u201d I said. \u201cThank you so much.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her eyebrows furrowed as she said, \u201cIn all my years, I\u2019ve never had a patient thank me for bad news.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
What my doctor didn\u2019t understand was that I needed more than a diagnosis. I needed the truth. After the surgery, I could finally rest knowing that something was wrong. I wasn\u2019t crazy; it wasn\u2019t my fault, and there was nothing I could do to change or cure my own condition.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My soul suffers in similar ways. As I move and breathe and live, I constantly battle with my own twisted motivations and expectations. I have an innate desire to do good and a near-complete inability to do it. I am sick, and not just in body, but in spirit. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jesus came for people like me. People whose bodies and souls don\u2019t work the way we know, deep down, they\u2019re meant to work. Sometimes I am like Zacchaeus, who feeds his own greed only to find that wealth provides no comfort at all. And sometimes I\u2019m like the Pharisees, prideful in my own self-righteousness. To all these parts of my broken heart, Jesus says, \u201ccome.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He is the physician we need. The good doctor looks on us without an ounce of ire or disappointment and tells us the truth of our broken condition. But He doesn\u2019t leave us in that diseased, broken place. Jesus seeks us out, tells us the truth, and gives with two scarred hands our eternal cure. His love is the balm for my wounds. It\u2019s why He came\u2014not just to point out that I am lost, but to gently, lovingly, bring me home again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I spent most of my twenties trying to understand what was wrong with my body. Every morning, I took my basal body temperature. I waited for the slight elevation in internal heat, followed doctor\u2019s instructions, and took a litany of medications. But no matter what we tried, my husband and I couldn\u2019t seem to get […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":51,"featured_media":71562,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[292],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-71881","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-advent2024"],"acf":{"hero_background_image":false,"related_plans":[71574],"weekly_truth":false,"grace_day":false,"share_text":"#SheReadsTruth","devotional_text":"JOY THROUGH SALVATION<\/b>
\r\nby Claire Gibson<\/i>
\r\n
I spent most of my twenties trying to understand what was wrong with my body. Every morning, I took my basal body temperature. I waited for the slight elevation in internal heat, followed doctor\u2019s instructions, and took a litany of medications. But no matter what we tried, my husband and I couldn\u2019t seem to get or stay pregnant. In the end, my obstetrician suggested I undergo a surgical procedure to determine whether I suffered from undiagnosed endometriosis, a common medical condition for women that can cause a host of uncomfortable symptoms, including infertility. My husband and I agreed that this was our best next step.<\/p>
\r\n
In the recovery room after surgery, I woke to see my doctor\u2019s face hovering just above me. Anesthesia blurred my vision and softened the world\u2019s sharp edges, but I could see Dr. Barrett\u2019s glasses, her warm gentle smile.<\/p>
\r\n
\u201cDo I have it?\u201d I asked. My first question post-consciousness: am I broken? Do I have the incurable condition you feared?<\/p>
\r\n
She nodded. \u201cYes,\u201d she said. \u201cYes. You do.\u201d<\/p>
\r\n
I grabbed her hand and squeezed tight. \u201cThank you,\u201d I said. \u201cThank you so much.\u201d<\/p>
\r\n
Her eyebrows furrowed as she said, \u201cIn all my years, I\u2019ve never had a patient thank me for bad news.\u201d<\/p>
\r\n
What my doctor didn\u2019t understand was that I needed more than a diagnosis. I needed the truth. After the surgery, I could finally rest knowing that something was wrong. I wasn\u2019t crazy; it wasn\u2019t my fault, and there was nothing I could do to change or cure my own condition.<\/p>
\r\n
My soul suffers in similar ways. As I move and breathe and live, I constantly battle with my own twisted motivations and expectations. I have an innate desire to do good and a near-complete inability to do it. I am sick, and not just in body, but in spirit.<\/p>
\r\n
Jesus came for people like me. People whose bodies and souls don\u2019t work the way we know, deep down, they\u2019re meant to work. Sometimes I am like Zacchaeus, who feeds his own greed only to find that wealth provides no comfort at all. And sometimes I\u2019m like the Pharisees, prideful in my own self-righteousness. To all these parts of my broken heart, Jesus says, \u201ccome.\u201d<\/p>
\r\n
He is the physician we need. The good doctor looks on us without an ounce of ire or disappointment and tells us the truth of our broken condition. But He doesn\u2019t leave us in that diseased, broken place. Jesus seeks us out, tells us the truth, and gives with two scarred hands our eternal cure. His love is the balm for my wounds. It\u2019s why He came\u2014not just to point out that I am lost, but to gently, lovingly, bring me home again.<\/p>","share_image_height":"640","day_number":"16","scripture":"Isaiah 49:8-13, Matthew 9:9-13, Luke 4:16-30, Luke 19:1-10, 1 John 4:14","available":true,"ad_banner_name":"","ad_banner_image":false,"ad_banner_url":"","songs":"","key_verse":"","key_verse_reference":"","background_image":false,"background_color":"#FBF7F3","scripture_references":false,"share_image":false,"author_name":"","author_bio":"","guest_social_media":false,"show_ad":true,"ad_override":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/shereadstruth.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/71881","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/shereadstruth.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/shereadstruth.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shereadstruth.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/51"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shereadstruth.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=71881"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/shereadstruth.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/71881\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shereadstruth.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/71562"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/shereadstruth.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=71881"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shereadstruth.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=71881"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shereadstruth.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=71881"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}