Joni

by Joni Eareckson Tada

  It became more and more difficult for me to concentrate on God’s Word and have a devotional or prayer life. It was hard to discuss spiritual things after bickering about “why didn’t you come and see me last night?” As a result, my prayer life dwindled to nothing.

  My feelings for him became almost all-consuming.

  Donald reacted vocally and forcefully. He reminded me that I was acting foolish—like a possessive schoolgirl. I told him I was sorry, that I wouldn’t be so demanding of his time and affections; but for some reason, I’d still give in to these unreasonable fears.

  Donald decided we both needed a vacation from each other, so he planned to take a trip to Europe in January, 1972. I resisted, taking his plans as a personal rebuke, as if he wanted to get away from me for some reason.

  “I just think we need some time to ourselves, Joni,” he explained. “Don’t read anything else into it at all. Besides,” he added, “I’ve wanted to take this trip for a long time. The guys and I will probably never have an opportunity like this again.”

  Dickie and Dave Filbert went to Europe with him. Inside, I had all kinds of unreasonable fears. For the first time, I was afraid for our relationship. What if he leaves me? What if he really can’t cope? What if it doesn’t work out? The trip to Europe lasted about three weeks. During that time I received letters and postcards from Switzerland, Germany, France, and other places they visited. The messages were all the same—that he missed me, loved me, and wished I was with him.

  When he returned from Europe, he exploded into the house. “I missed you so much, I couldn’t wait to get back,” he exclaimed. He did come back—more loving and sensitive than ever.

  Donald and I began talking about the possibility of my being healed. Until now, I’d accepted my situation. But my desire to be a complete woman led me to fiercely claim promises I felt the Lord had put in His Word for me. After all, I reasoned, He allows us to have experiences of suffering and sickness to teach us. I’ve learned an enormous amount through my accident. But now that I’ve learned what He had for me to learn, He might heal me! This was to be a new adventure of faith—the next phase of spiritual development for me.

  Of course, physiologically, I could not be healed—my injury was permanent. Yet I knew nothing was impossible for God. Did He not, through Christ, heal all kinds of paralysis and sicknesses? He even raised the dead.

  Even today there are miracles of healing. I’d heard about many cases of “permanent,” “incurable,” or “fatal” diseases or injuries being reversed.

  Donald and I read James 5 and other passages, concentrating on the idea that it was God’s will for me to be healed. The Lord seemed to speak to us through John 14 and 15 and many other passages, and we prayed with renewed enthusiasm and thankfulness.

  We believed that finding God’s will was a matter of circumstances, faith in God’s love, the assurance of His Word, and dependence on the power of His Holy Spirit. There was new optimism in the prospect of sharing our lives together.

  “We’re absolutely convinced that God wants me healed!” I told Diana.

  “Joni, this whole thing is getting out of hand. You’re twisting God’s arm—blackmailing Him. You’re not being realistic about this,” she replied.

  “Diana, I’m surprised that you’d say that. I thought you’d have more faith than that. You must have faith that God really does want to heal me,” I said by way of rebuke.

  Donald and I prayed that God would bring about the circumstances for us to trust Him. I began to inform my friends that God was going to heal me soon. Each time Donald and I got together we prayed it would be soon.

  “Lord, we have faith. We believe Your Word that You want us healthy and able to better serve You,” prayed Donald.

  “Thank You for the lessons in trust and patience that You have taught me through my suffering, Lord. And thank You for what You plan to do to bring glory to Yourself by healing me according to Your promises,” I added.

  As we continued to pray about this matter, we planned to attend a church service where the format of the healing ministry outlined in James 5 could be followed.

  Several friends drove me to the church. Elders came and laid hands upon me and anointed me with oil, according to the scriptural injunction. They read promises from the Bible and prayed for me.

  With all the faith, devotion, and spiritual commitment we could discover through our own inner resources, Donald and I prayed and trusted.

  I wasn’t anticipating immediate healing, but expected a slow recovery, since my rehabilitation alone had taken nearly two years. It was logical to think God would restore me gradually, I reasoned.

  But after several attempts and many healing services, it became obvious that I wasn’t going to be healed. I was able to accept the reality of the situation, but I was frustrated—probably more for Donald than myself. Donald was quiet, yet intense. He seemed to be questioning everything, reevaluating all that had happened. It was awkward, especially for him, after pinning so much to that prayer of faith that went “unanswered.” His introspection was guarded, and he began spending more time away from me. I resented this, again jealous of his time.

  When Steve came home on college break, he, Diana, and I discussed the possible reasons God did not answer our prayers. “Why do you suppose He didn’t want you healed?” Diana asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Steve broke in, “You know, I was thinking about that when I read Hebrews 11 recently. You know the passage?”

  “Yeah, it talks about the people of faith,” I answered.

  “Well, it also says there are two categories of people—those whose faith was rewarded and those whose faith was not. All kinds of miraculous, fantastic things happened to some. Others were ‘sawn asunder,’ ‘saw not the promises,’ or did not experience a visible reward.”

  “And you think I’m in the latter category?” I asked.

  Steve leaned forward to make a point. “Uh-huh. I think so. For now, anyway. But not forever. Second Corinthians 5 tells about the wonderful resurrection body you’ll have some day instead of a useless, earthly body. We’re living in ‘tabernacles’ now—temporary dwellings. But someday we’ll live in temples—heavenly bodies that are perfect and permanent.”

  “But what about those verses we read about faith?” I protested.

  Steve grabbed my knee to emphasize his words—as if I could feel it. “But that’s what I’m trying to say! Remember the faith healer who told you, ‘I believe it is God’s will that you be healed’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I believe it too. I believe it’s God’s will for everyone to be healed. But maybe we just can’t agree as to timetable. I believe it is His will, but apparently it doesn’t have priority over other things. You will be healed, but probably not until you receive your glorified body.”

  “But God does heal other people,” I argued.

  “Yes, I know. I don’t question His sovereignty on this,” he replied.

  Diana added, “But when He does heal someone supernaturally, He must have reasons for it. For instance, there seems to be a lot of examples of healing miracles overseas in cultures where missionaries work. When people don’t have the written Word of God, maybe they need a more obvious witness—you know, like ‘signs and wonders’—to attract them to Christ.”

  “Yeah, could be,” I answered.

  Steve went on to say, “In our culture, it wouldn’t be appropriate or necessary. Some hot-shot, sensation-seeking press would change the focus and distort the whole situation. God wouldn’t receive the glory, and the whole purpose would be lost.”

  “I think maybe that’s the way it works,” I remarked.

  Diana nodded. “It’s a dangerous misunderstanding of the Bible to say categorically that it’s God’s will that everyone be well. It’s obvious everyone is not well.”

  “Right. We’re trying for perfection, but we haven’t attained it yet. We still sin. We still catch colds. We still break legs and
necks,” I said, adding, “The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that God doesn’t want everyone well. He uses our problems for His glory and our good.” As I thought of this, I recalled several godly families touched by tragedy and disease. Many who truly love the Lord are often afflicted the most and fall into this category.

  Man’s dealing with God in our day and culture is based on His Word rather than “signs and wonders.”

  “You know,” Steve said, “there’s really no difference in God’s power. Maybe you have greater credibility because of your chair than if you were out of it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember the Greek word for the power of God? I think it’s dunamos.”

  “Yeah, it’s where we get the word dynamite.”

  “Or dynamo,” Steve said. “They both mean great power. One is explosive energy. The other is controlled, useful energy. A healing experience would be like an explosive release of God’s energy getting you out of the chair. But staying in the chair takes power too—controlled energy flowing through you that makes it possible to cope.”

  Over the next few months, Donald and I talked about this and many other things; but one thing we now avoided was talking about our future.

  Then one day when Donald came, I sensed an awkward quiet, a tenseness. Finally, in a low voice, he said, “Joni, I’m going to be counseling this summer up in New York at a Young Life camp. I’m leaving tomorrow. I just wanted to come and say good-by.”

  I thought, That’s good. Things have been a bit sour in our relationship lately. We both need a breather from each other—like the Europe trip. But I was puzzled about the decisive inflection Donald gave to the word good-by.

  “What do you mean, good-by? You’ll be gone for several weeks, but—”

  “No, Joni. This is it. I’m sorry. We never should have allowed this relationship to develop the way it has. I never should have kissed you. We never should have shared the things we shared. We never should have talked and dreamed of marriage. It was all a mistake.”

  “A mistake! What do you mean? You were the one who encouraged me! I was the one who didn’t want to get involved. You’ve kissed me and held me. I went from fear to hope because you told me you loved me and wanted us to build a life together! Donald—I’ve shared things so deeply with you—more than I’ve shared with my own family. And you’re just going to walk away, just like that? Now you’re saying it’s a mistake—that you were just leading me along?” My voice faltered as I desperately tried to put words and thoughts together.

  Hot tears of rage and frustration made me want to throw myself on him and beat him with my fists. All I could do was sit there and sob.

  “I wasn’t leading you along, I swear it,” Donald said firmly. “I sincerely thought I could do it. But I was wrong. It’s impossible. It’s all a mistake.”

  “Oh, dear God, what is this? Is it really happening?” Panic swept over me as I thought of Donald standing across the room saying good-by. What happened? He came into my life and made me feel so attractive and useful—a woman. I didn’t think anyone would ever care for me as much as he had. I didn’t think it possible I could love anyone as deeply as I loved him.

  I tried to stop crying. “Maybe you need time to reconsider—”

  “No. Joni. I’ve thought seriously about what I’m doing. There’s no turning back. It’s over. I’m sorry.” With that, he turned and walked to the door.

  “Donald! Don’t leave me! Donald, wait!”

  “Good-by, Joni,” he said quietly and closed the door behind him.

  “No! Oh, my God—why are You letting this happen? Why are You hurting me like this?”

  CHAPTER 14

  And so, with a simple “good-by,” Donald walked out of my life. My heart and mind raged. How could he be so cruel after being so loving and tender?

  Yet, after I regained my composure, I saw that he hadn’t meant to be cruel. It was simply his style—no jive, no hypocrisy, he had said.

  I knew when he left that he was walking out for good. He gave me no false hopes, no wrong impressions. In the long run, it was the least painful of any method he could have used.

  I learned that Dick and Donald, good friends since school days, had shared the problem with each other. Dick, who himself had had similar confusion in his relationship with me earlier, had warned Donald not to let his feelings for me get out of hand.

  “I know exactly what Don is going through,” Dick told me later. “I was confused and torn up inside after you wrote me from California that you wanted to be ‘just friends.’ I knew what you were doing, but I felt then—and still feel—very much in love with you. But I also know you’re right about what my being able to really face up to all your injury means. I just don’t know. But I was willing to commit myself to making it work. Maybe you knew me better; maybe you didn’t believe I could handle it. I don’t know. In any event, since we’ve been ‘just good friends’ the past two years, I was happy for you both when you and Don fell in love. I prayed that he’d be able to do whatever I couldn’t and that you’d really be happy together.”

  “Then what went wrong?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I began to see Don questioning the relationship. Several times he confided to me that he wished he’d never let his feelings for you get so out of hand. I suppose he—being older and probably wiser than me—saw what you saw with me: that many guys really can’t deal with the chair in the long run. Or, at least it seems Don and I can’t.”

  My hurt was even more painful as I continued to hear about Donald secondhand. He wrote letters to kids we had both been counseling. I was angry and resentful when kids we both had prayed with and helped received letters and were still close to Donald and I wasn’t.

  I’d been warned not to let my feelings for Donald get out of hand. Jay and Diana had urged me many times to be careful, but I didn’t listen. Now my hopes and dreams for marriage were hopelessly crushed.

  Why, God? I don’t understand why. My reactions included rage at Donald, self-pity for myself, and jealous anger at friends who were still close to him. A young high school girl, a new Christian whom we had both counseled, came over to read a letter she had received from Donald telling how God was working in his life in exciting ways. She, of course, didn’t know what happened between us. She merely came over to share an encouraging, newsy letter to her from Donald. My envy grew and hot tears began to run down from the corners of my eyes.

  When she left and I was by myself, I felt ashamed of my attitudes. I wasn’t handling this “irritation” with a godly response. I turned to a familiar Scripture passage for comfort—I Corinthians 13, the love chapter of the Bible. But my mind played tricks with the words.

  “Though I speak with the tongues of men and angels and have lust, I’m like sounding brass or crashing cymbals. If I have prophetic gifts, absolute faith, and lust, I amount to nothing. If I give away all that I have, even allow my body to be burned, and have lust, I achieve nothing. Lust is quick to lose patience; it is possessive; it tries to impress others and has inflated ideas of its own importance. Lust has bad manners and pursues selfish aims. It is touchy…”

  By substituting the word “lust” for “love,” I saw what had gone wrong with our relationship. I had lusted after Donald—after his time, his attention, his presence—because I felt I had a right to. I saw what a consuming, fiery passion lust can be. It was a desire that I did not want to deny myself. In the end, I lost everything that I sought to selfishly control.

  Now the truth of 1 Corinthians 13 became evident. True love is unselfish, disciplined, directed, self-controlled, patient, and kind.

  I began to sob bitterly at my confusion and hurt. This time, however, my hurt drove me to the Lord instead of to self-pity and self-centered introspection. I reread Scriptures that had helped me overcome previous disappointments.

  I decided I didn’t want to listen to the birds. They all reminded me of the beautiful times Donald and I had gone to the
woods for quiet retreats, and this was the only way I could consciously shut him out of my mind. It was difficult enough just to be outdoors with all those memories. How can I describe my feelings? For a year my mind had been working toward fulfillment of an ideal—my marriage to Donald; I had believed that our plans were part of God’s perfect will for us. Then, in one brief day, my dream disintegrated before my eyes so completely that there was not a flicker of hope that it could be revived.

  I recalled Steve’s mention of Lamentations 3. He had once told me, “Joni, God must have His reasons. Jeremiah says that ‘it is good that a young man bear the yoke in his youth.’ Perhaps your life will have greater value in years to come because you’re going through this experience now.”

  “Lord,” I prayed, “what is happening to that ‘excellent gift’ I read about in Your Word? What are You doing?” I recalled passages from the Gospels in which Peter and John questioned Jesus as I was now doing. “What is that to me?” was the Lord’s simple, blunt reply. Jesus didn’t coddle Peter or allow him to indulge in self-pity. The Lord said, in essence, “What do you care? It doesn’t matter. You keep your eyes on me.” I learned that God’s truth is not always kind or comfortable. Sometimes His love for us involves harshness or a stern reproof.

  I read other verses: “Welcome trials as friends,” said the apostle James, reminding me of the lessons God had already taught me in the hospital and during the years that followed. “In everything give thanks…All things work together…”

  I forced myself back into God’s Word. There was no extensive self-pity, no wallowing in tears. God was merely providing me with yet another test—a “gut” testing of His truth, love, and purposes.

  Letters from Donald to mutual friends were vibrant with his testimony of God at work in his life. He wrote of exciting spiritual growth and progress as the weeks turned into months. After the long summer, he wrote to friends telling of a lovely young woman he had met while working at the camp.