Nearness is Better than Curedness

Our pilgrimage was a success, from my perspective. I think, from God’s perspective too. A pilgrimage, like a fast, is only as spiritually focused as you make it.

And I struggled.

That’s part of what it means to be a pilgrim. You are volunteering to struggle under a heavy load. You hope and pray that in some way, God comes to meet you in the struggle. I asked each of the participants in this year’s pilgrimage to identify what they wanted God to transform in their lives—something that is out of our control.

For me, the pilgrimage was about my recent health issues being transformed. I wanted God to heal me. Bold. Improbable. Desperate. And yet, our Lord and Savior is able to do anything He wills. I was reminded of a passage from Mark, chapter 10:

And they came to Jericho. And as he was leaving Jericho with his disciples and a great crowd, Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, the son of Timaeus, was sitting by the roadside. And when he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And many rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” And Jesus stopped and said, “Call Him.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart. Get up; he is calling you.” And throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. And Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” And the blind man said to him, “Rabbi, let me recover my sight.” And Jesus said to him, “Go your way; your faith has made you well.” And immediately he recovered his sight and followed him on the way.

While struggling up a steep grade, which went on for miles, I felt like the blind man Bartimaeus; crying out without answer—knowing Jesus was out there performing miracles, but without the ability to come to Him myself.

Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!

We reached the top of Mount Coeur d’Alene, and I dropped my pack and went on without the rest of the group for a bit. I circled around to another campground (to see if it was a better spot for us to spend the night), and came back the long way. Finally, I felt the presence of God, as I puffed my way back up the trail.

The nearness of God is something I love to feel, but often, I do not. I try to pride myself on a faith that does not require a bunch of feelings to stay strong. But, I do need some feelings every once in a while. I need some strengthening and reminding that I am on the right path. Even John the Baptist sent messengers to Jesus, after John was in prison, to ask if He really was the Christ.

And there in the Presence, I felt the need to sing. And so I started singing the first song that came to mind, “Lean on me” by Bill Withers. After singing it, I felt like I should probably sing something a bit more spiritual.

And the words from Nearer my God to Thee came to mind. As I sang them, and the forest around me rang with those beautiful lyrics, I was touched by the deep truth of them:

                Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee

                Even though it be a cross that raises me.

                Still all my song shall be: nearer my God to Thee.

Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee.

And there, in the aloneness and nearness of God, wandering up the mountain; God began to transform my sickness. He was speaking to me about my health, and what it is accomplishing in my life. Perhaps sickness is a cross to be carried.

Even though it be a cross that raises me.

I was reminded that sometimes the greatest gift God can give us is not a physical cure, but spiritual transformation.

I still want to be healed. I still pray for it. But, it no longer is what I am desperate for. I am desperate for Him. I want to be nearer to Him, and I’ll take any method He gives.

Still all my song shall be: nearer my God to Thee.

Jesus taught us in Matthew chapter 10, in plain language, what it means to be His true disciple: “…[W]hoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”

The mark of a true disciple is the bearing of a cross. It’s not optional. It’s not like some people get a super spiritual call to suffer, while most people just get to follow—and so the smarter of the disciples figure out how to follow without bearing a cross. No. Even the most feeble, weak-kneed and palsied disciples are bearing a cross.

But Jesus also says in Matthew 11: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

For me, sometimes the problem with prayer is all the disappointment that follows. Sometimes the problem with a pilgrimage is you don’t get what you came for. But, [God bless the Rolling Stones] you get what you need. And, what you need is Him.

Somehow, our cross becomes a lightness when we are bound to Christ. In His mercy, He heals on a level that cannot be fathomed. In the pain and suffering of sickness we can draw nearer to Him. And in His presence, we find our peace; we find our hope; and we find a way to love.