Not Feeling So Well Myself

Good Ol' Mark Twain.  So many of his witticisms have wound up in my cranial cavity, I'm almost embarrassed to admit it.  Yes, I enjoyed the master story teller, and his penchant for captivating what most of us feel at one time or another.  The quote came from a speech he gave upon hearing that he'd been mentioned in a long line of great, but dead authors. Let me give you the quote. “I was sorry to have my name mentioned as one of the great authors, because they have a sad habit of dying off. Chaucer is dead, Spencer is dead, so is Milton, so is Shakespeare, and I’m not feeling so well myself.”
Actually, when the quote came to me, I was thinking of the song "Feeling Alright" by Joe Cocker.  Joe is one of my favorite musicians of all time. The reason I was even thinking of the song, is because I've been fighting a cold for the last week.  The simple chorus goes: "feeling al'right?  I'm not feeling too good myself."  I'm sure Joe got his inspiration from Mark, though.  If not, my apologies Mr. Cocker.  
You see, this morning I was grousing to the Lord about how long it was taking for me to get over this stinking cold. (Actually, I was whining.)  I get colds about twice a year.  I usually get one in early November, and get a summer cold sometime around July or early August.  I consider them (colds) to be a natural rhythm to my life.  I've never known a year when I didn't get one.  When I didn't get one in November, I considered myself to be living in the favor of God.  My wife Glenda, had already fought one nasty bout of the flu around the Christmas season, and it never touched me.  YEAH, FEELING ALRIGHT! As the flu season erupted and our local hospital filled to capacity, I moved in and through the mess with relative ease.  Must be living right!  Then came my birthday.  You know, the first day of February.  A FRIDAY!  Nothing went my way.  Glenda was already beginning to fight off another bout of flu, I had to work the entire day, my kids didn't come visit me, no one called from the church family, and it was just an ordinary day to everyone else, but me.  To add insult to injury, my wife makes my favorite cake, and then decides to give half of it away to her co-workers. AUUUUUGGGHHHH!  For some reason, which is not in my character, (my family can testify) I had made this birthday important.  It wasn't all bad. Throughout the day, all three of my children called me and wished me a Happy Birthday.  I got a cute e-card from my oldest daughter, but even my mother forgot it was my birthday.  MY MOTHER NEVER FORGETS MY BIRTHDAY! What in the world is going on here? Where are the men from the church?  Where's my mom, and dad?  Even my Dad forgot.  What in the world?  Needless to say, I went to bed that night in a serious blue funk.  Joe Cocker, and I could have done a great duet on 'Feelin alright'.   
Saturday morning I awoke with a slightly scratchy throat.  
Sunday morning, I was beginning to show the tell-tale signs of sinus drainage.  DARN!  Crappy birthday, and now I'm getting a cold.  The Superbowl didn't have either of my favorite teams playing (I have a favorite team in each league.)  Glenda had to work the next day, so we left the Church Superbowl party well before the fantastic second half.  By this time, I'm gritting my teeth.  Not one person even wished me a Happy Birthday, except Chris! (Thank you Chris.)  
I couldn't figure it out.  Why was this birthday so important to me?  It'd never been important to me. As the week progressed, so did the cold.  My wife's bout with the flu, morphed into bronchitis, and now has become sinusitis. Tissue balls litter night stands, tables, and even the floor around chairs.  We're both too tired to do anything.  
I'm waiting. . . . .
The answer is yes, I've prayed.  Something is hindering it.
A lack of faith.  
I'm not afraid to admit it.  It isn't a lack of faith in God's ability to heal, it was a lack of faith in God's ability to provide.  I let my doubt become a moral failure.  
I refuse to blame my lack of faith, moral failure, or plain old ignorance, on God's willingness or ability to heal. I am a firm believer in God's ability, willingness, and ongoing ability to heal.  I don't believe we have to beg, have prayer vigils, fast, or do any number of other things the Patriarchs did, because Jesus paid it all.  Is this body gonna die?  Yes, it has to in order for me to inherit the Kingdom of God. Will sickness be the cause of my death?  Yes, old age is sickness. Old age is the deterioration of the bodies ability to repair, and renew itself. Certain glands in my body stopped functioning years ago, and my body can only repair itself, now.  I don't know what I will look like in heaven, but I sure don't want the body I've got now.  I want that body that sported sensational abs, cut thighs, and. . .well I never did have an exceptional upper body.  I would be content with a body that doesn't hurt in the morning as I roll out of bed.  
I believe the reason I got slammed in the dirt with this stinking 'cold,' is because I let my heart become offended over my lack of a birthday. (My mother forgot me!) Somehow, I'd let the enemy sneak in, and rob me of my joy.  Joy (not happiness) is the number one defender against illness. I was angry, and my body was busy working on my anger. Testosterone was raging, adrenaline was surging, and my spiritual defense system was offline.  I don't think the enemy of my soul dumped it on me, I did a perfectly good job all by myself.  I let a simple birthday get me down, my body reacted to the bitterness, and the stinking rhino-virus did it's job.  
I don't believe God puts sickness on anyone.  I believe when we are overcome with cancers, infirmities, and other issues of the body, we should immediately go to the one who bought our healing.  Do I believe in medicine? ABSOLUTELY!  God gave us this amazing cranial mass to create, invent, heal, restore, build, name, discover, and most of all, BELIEVE!  It's the other crap we do with it, that messes us up.  Please don't assume that I believe all sickness, diseases, or afflictions are because of bad feelings.  I don't believe God puts them on you because you messed up.  I believe you mess up, and then stumble into them.  If you didn't mess up, if it's genetic, or just a process of living in this messed up world, there is still an answer in the blood, of Jesus.  
Last Sunday we had Communion, and I failed to realize the anger working in me. When we partake of the Communion it is a two edged sword, at one side, if we recognize our sin, and accept the broken body of Jesus as our healing, then we can in true faith expect the healing.  If we've allowed our selfish desires to overcome us, (as I had) then the cup, and the cracker avail us nothing.  We eat unworthily, and our diseases move with us, some even to the point of killing us. (This is all very scriptural, look in the book of James, and the book of Corinthians.)  
As a final word:  Throughout this week, I've been surrounded with people who are suffering through sickness, diseases, tumors, and other health issues.  It hasn't caused me to doubt in the healing power of Jesus name.  All I have to do is reach up, and take what has already been purchased for me.  I have to believe it is there.  Believing is the release agent for healing.  I just had to repent of my stupid thinking.  I'm already feeling better.