Faith and Chronic Illness

The day was September 13, 1999, and it's not a date I'm likely to forget any time soon.

Sitting in the neurologist's examination room with my wife, we both knew that the diagnosis was really just a formality, an acknowledgment of something that we had suspected for a couple of months. Holding my wife's hand, I silently waited for the doctor to come back in. My wife managed a smile, and I returned her smile and said, "Hey, God's in control. We'll get through this."

Our lives had really been pretty easy up to that point. We had both grown up in families with strong marriages and strong faiths; we both went to college and did well, landing good jobs; and we both had done well in the work force, climbing our respective corporate ladders. After our first child was born, my wife opted to stay at home, and my salary was sufficient -- not extravagant, but sufficient -- to pay the bills and still be able to tuck some away for retirement.

I had invited Jesus into my life as a teenager, and to this day I remember the almost overwhelming feelings of joy and peace that washed over my mind, heart, and soul. I had always been an optimistic kid, enthusiastic for life, but these new strong feelings were not from me, they were from God.

The problem, though, was that as I would talk to people about the joy and peace that God can give the sincere seeker, the response I would hear would often be, "Well, it's easy for you to be happy, because you've never had tragedy in your life. It's easy to say, 'God loves you,' when your life is going smoothly."

It was hard to refute the naysayers, even though I knew for a fact that this gift of joy and peace was real. Still, I think in the back of my mind I sometimes wondered how I would respond when finally faced with adversity.

So there I was, sitting with my wife and waiting for the neurologist to return. If what we had suspected turned out to be reality, we knew it would dramatically affect our future plans. Gone would be the dream of working until the age of 65 or 70 and then retiring and living a leisurely life, traveling around the world and seeing things we've always wanted to see. Shattered would be the hopes I had of being a grandfather who could play ball with his grandkids in the back yard. Instead, our future would be handcuffed to whatever scientific and medical advances could be discovered in the next decade or two.

And yet, at the same time, I had this amazing feeling of peace cloak my body; I was wrapped in a blanket of joy. I wasn't feeling sorry for myself; I wasn't sad or morose. Rather, I was rejoicing because I could feel the presence of God right there with me, holding me and assuring me that He really was in charge.

The Bible verse that kept coming back to me says, "In the world you shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." John 16:33 KJV

The verse doesn't say to just deal with it. It doesn't say to simply accept it. It says to be cheerful!

That verse was going through my mind when the door to the exam room opened, and the doctor entered.

He sat down at the desk, put his head down in his hands for a long moment, and looked up at me with the eyes of someone who really didn't want to deliver the news he was about to deliver.

"Joel, I'm afraid you have Parkinson's Disease."

We talked for a few minutes about the next steps -- the need for a second opinion, the medications I should start considering, etc.

The longer we talked, the more I became aware that the joy and peace from God was still right there, strong as ever. Life didn't end because of the diagnosis. I was still Joel. I could still laugh and enjoy each day, the same as I always had.

I told the doctor that I believed God was in charge, that God was in control of the situation. Sure, I would rather not have to deal with this, but if my having Parkinson's Disease will help bring even one other person to know God, then it's worth it.

As I write this, almost ten years after being diagnosed with Parkinson's, I can look back and see how God has been at work in this past decade.

I am seeing the same doctor, and he is absolutely amazed at my activity level. I am still playing tuba in the church orchestra, I am playing tennis and racquetball (I'm not very good, but I enjoy it), I continue to play football, baseball, basketball, and ultimate frisbee with my kids in the back yard, and I play basketball with a group at church early Friday mornings.

I am still employed, my wife and I are homeschooling our kids, I coached in the Homeschool Football League last fall (and my Mighty Mites team won the league championship!), and I spend as much spare time as I can writing.

Sure, there are struggles. I'll write about those someday, maybe sooner than later. But God has been with our family every step of the way. Some days are harder than others, but I've never felt abandoned; I've never felt that God has forgotten about me.

One thing is for sure though. I can't imagine trying to deal with something like Parkinson's without faith in God. I wouldn't be able to handle this by myself.

If this has been encouraging to you in any way, it should be God that receives the glory and praise, not me. After all, he is the one providing the joy and peace.