Soundtrack – Healed by Donald Lawrence
“At the end of every seven years, thou shalt make a release.” Deuteronomy 15:1 (KJV)\
Many moons ago, I was born with Glaucoma and Cataracts, some would say with the eyes of a 70-year-old. I started going to eye doctor appointments around the age of 4. I remember sitting in the stale waiting room filled with games to keep the children occupied and magazines to keep the parents entertained. The ceilings were stark white tiles lined with the brightest white LED lights that illuminated the plain walls in the doctor’s office. The room was bleak and cold. One hundred percent of the time I was the only person of color in the room; awkward. I played alone until I heard my moniker obnoxiously loud. My doctor, an old white man who still wears paper-thin glasses and has handwriting only legible to him, used his gadgets to invade my eye sockets. After the pictures, field tests, numbing drops, dilating drops, shining beaming white and blue lights to see behind my eyes the doctor synthesized his findings to my mother. He told her I’d be blind by 21.
Although I was a highly intelligent and aware child, I knew one day my eyes would fail me. This seed of little hope was planted early, there was no opportunity to approach visual disability with optimism. I spent countless hours in the doctor’s office to the point I thought anyone who looked in my direction could see every imperfection through their naked eye, as I did. The pending failure slowly became my identity, morphing into victimhood; but not your typical victim. Somewhere in my mind, I thought, if I could be perfect and strong in every other area of my life I could make the most out of it. Looking back, fear and doubt lied at the nucleus of my decisions. One poor choice led to the next, and I spent too much time speeding through life camouflaged as a high-achiever running toward freedom all the while being driven by terror.
Suddenly, healing became my fixation– I mean that’s the next best step, right? I had a deep inner drive to constantly “work” on myself. For four years, I invested energy and money into the latest self-help book on mindset and boundary setting to avoid abuse. In the middle of many nights, my mind replayed the smallest details of past mistakes just to be sure I recognize signs to avoid in new interactions. I woke up between 4:30-5:00 AM, religiously praying for peace. I’ll never forget the first time I wept. Jesus, help me describe the weeping I experienced. My chest felt empty, the aching in my soul turned to numbness, the sound of my cry was so hollow it pierced my heart to reunite with my shattered soul. Once the first load of tears were released, I had officially made way for the flood. There was no schedule on when weeping would commence, but immediately after I slept with the peace I’d prayed for. I’m thankful for the friends who escorted themselves out of my life. God cleared my path to create a moat, hallowed for the two of us to meet again.
26 years later, the doctor’s determination did not come to pass. Sure, visiting the doctor’s office remains the most traumatizing experience—I must acknowledge it has gotten better. It recently dawned on me that in nearly three decades, I spent a tremendous amount of mental labor striving to overcome a battle God had already won. I can see despite the trials, today I get to rejoice with glee and confidence, my identity in Christ has been restored.
“There is no wisdom nor understanding counsel against the Lord. The horse is prepared against the Lord the day of battle but safety is of the Lord.” Proverbs 21:30-31 (KLV)
P.S.
Take off your armor in the physical realm and get dressed with the Holy Spirit. In the words of Yolanda Adams, “This battle is not yours, it’s the Lord’s!”
