Abortion and Sex Changes - A Feminist Issue?

Wow, it has been a long time since I have written one of these. My bad. I hope there are still some readers out there and I haven't been forgotten lol.

Today I am going to tackle a subject that will no doubt ruffle a few feathers, cause a few arguments, and generally put my fine ass on the line.

But I have to write about it. I wouldn't be me if I could stay quiet about such things.

What I want to talk about is the female reproductive system; namely the uterus and the vagina.

Firstly, the uterus.

What a wonderful amazing gift the uterus is. Despite once a month hating the very existence of mine and wishing I could chop it out, it is a wonderful thing.

Why?

Because it nurtures and brings forth life.

Just think about the amazingness of that for a moment.

If you are a woman, the ability to make children (even if you choose not to) is a wonderful amazing gift. For those who can't have children, the fact that it doesn't work can be devastating. It can bring into question your very womanhood.

This ability to nurture and grow life sets us apart from men in a way no other thing really can. You can take hormones to grow boobs, you can get a vagina made, but you can't create a working uterus. It is unique and precious.

It's very design is formed to cradle a baby in a way that keeps it safe, warm and fed.

So abortion really grinds my gears, as it is a invasion and desecration of something amazingly beautiful and precious.

The topic of abortion is one that is really difficult to address publically if you are not pro-choice (NB: pro-choice means you want women to have the right to choose whether to keep the baby or not; pro-life means you believe that every baby conceived should be given the chance to live). The pro-choicers are loud and aggressive and we pro-lifers are often shouted down. We are called bigoted, anti-feminist, and basically terrible people.

Apparently abortion is a feminist issue in that women should be given the right to choose what to do with their bodies. I would argue it is a feminist issue for a very different reason:

If a woman's body is created to bring forth life when insemination happens during sex, then if you consent to have sex, you are consenting to whatever the consequences of sex are. To put it in a way people may understand, if I consent to eat heaps of chocolate, I also consent to the fact that I may get very fat. You can't have one without being prepared to deal with the other.

So when women have sex, knowing that they could get pregnant, even when using protection, then they are letting their bodies work the way they were intended to. To then let a person stick foreign objects into you in order to stop the body doing what it should is an invasion not only of the foetus' body, not only of your uterus, but of your very womanhood.

It is ripping away from your body the right to do what a woman's body should do.

It is a feminist issue because woman's bodies should be given the opportunity to do what they were made to do. When a woman's body is artificially stopped from completing what it naturally does, then it is a feminist issue. It is a feminist issue as it speaks to the right of the woman's body to work properly. It is a feminist issue as it speaks to the equal right every human has to live in freedom without being hurt, and the baby is having that taken away from them.

The argument that abortion is a woman's choice because it is her body is also suspect. A foetus is genetically different from a mother as soon as it is conceived, so it isn't your body you are messing with, but the body of someone completely different from you.

Feminists are meant to stand for equality for all people. This must, it just has to, include everyone who you can differentiate from yourself. THAT INCLUDES UNBORN CHILDREN. To argue otherwise is to undermine exactly what feminism is meant to fight for.

And speaking of feminist issues:

Recently Bruce Jenner has been all over the news for getting sexual reassignment surgery. Apparently he is becoming a woman.

And that last sentence annoys me more than anything else I can think of right at this moment (ok....child abuse, poverty, slavery, sex trade.....there are many more things that piss me off more than this but just work with me here).

The reason that this annoys me is that NO MAN CAN BECOME A WOMAN.

"But wait," I hear you cry, "he is having hormones to grow boobs, and is making his penis into a vagina. Surely he is a woman."

NO!

Vagina does not maketh the woman.

Whether my innie is and outie or vice versa does not actually make me a woman or a man. Because outward appearance does not equal gender.

For example, if hubby lost his genitalia in some freak accident (much easier to use a guy in this example, can't think of an accident that could happen where I would loose my genitalia), I would not think he was less of man. He may feel like he is, but he wouldn't be. He would still be a man, my man. Because he isn't a man simply because he has his junk all in tact.

Let me do some basic genetics with you.

Inside every cell on every person is a nucleus. And inside that nucleus is our DNA. Our DNA is like the code that makes us look the way we do. This code is called our genome or genotype. The outward appearance of the genotype is called the phenotype.

The phenotype, or outward appearance of a person, is caused by a combination of their genotype and their environment. Your environment can have an impact on how you look. You can change your face and body through surgery and this means that your phenotype has changed, but your genotype is always the same.

In other words, it doesn't matter if you chop your bits off and make new bits, your genetics will still state that you are a man or a woman. If you spill blood at a crime scene, it doesn't matter if you dress like a woman, the blood will say that you are a man.

So Bruce Jenner will still be Bruce, even if he changes to Barbara.

And as a woman, having a man claim that they are woman kinda annoys me. No man can know what it is to be a woman. They don't understand periods. They don't know what it is to be inside a woman's head. They don't face our challenges or triumphs. And the same is true of a woman becoming a man.

Sex changes are a feminist issue as it is the uniqueness of women that is to be celebrated. It is our challenges that we fight for. To have someone simply pick up our gender and state they are who we are is a slap in the face for every woman out there. It is saying that what we are is like a new outfit that can be picked up and dropped at will. It refuses to recognise that there is something deep within us that cannot be copied or surgically inserted.

Being a woman is far more than looking like a woman.

(Disclaimer: I do not hate cross-gender people. I understand that there is something much bigger going on for these people than I understand. I also do not hate those who have had or will have abortions. I know people who have had them. I have studied what happens and the other options out there when I was teaching young girls about sex. I just think we need to think bigger than 'me' and 'my body'. I have also avoided religious arguments as I know not everyone has the same standards as Christianity does. But as a side note, I believe ALL life is precious, from conception to death. I also believe that we are created by a God who knew who and what we should be: to mess with that is to mess with a Divine creation).



Will we now abuse the abuser?

Hubby and I finally managed to get our act together and have officially moved cities. After an eventful move that included our truck tipping over on the motorway and our car getting stolen, we arrived in one place, found jobs, bought a new car, and have got ourselves a house. All that is left is the final unpack, buying a kitten or two (because...KITTENS), and finally sitting in our own home with a nice cold glass of something and curling up into the foetal position until the next time someone

needs us.

I have moved many times before, including moving cities on four separate occasions, so I thought I knew how this all went, and wasn't too worried about anything going wrong. 

Boy, was I wrong on that!

Everything that could possibly go wrong did. Though no one got hurt, the mental and emotional stress that we have been under is insane. Today, after we signed the contract for our house, both of us immediately felt exhausted. We had done it, but it had been a hard road.

God is good though, and through it all we have been blessed.

We have been blessed by the fact that we could stay with our parents and store our stuff for free in their garage while we sorted life out.

We have been blessed by the help we have received from family and friends in moving and through prayer and love.

We have been blessed that it really didn't take as long as we thought it would to get settled here.

Everyone, including ourselves, had predicted that it could take months to find jobs in a small town, and those jobs would probably pay a lot less than our jobs in the big smoke did. But this has not been the case. Both of us found jobs within a week of moving down and both jobs are at better pay than what we had previously!! In our minds this fact cemented that we are doing the right thing.

I am working now at a charitable trust for Maori. I process grants which help encourage the health and education of the local iwi/tribe. Though i may sit behind a desk, I find it very fulfilling knowing that I am helping a people that have had much work against them.

Hubby is working as a supervisor as the local Alternative Education centre. This is a centre for kids aged 13-15 who have effectively been expelled from the local high school and yet, by law, have to still be enrolled in school. They are all from rough backgrounds, most are related to gang members, and 95% of them are Maori. His job helps give my job even more meaning.

Needless to say, his work stories are far more interesting than mine, and far more heartbreaking.

He comes home with stories of drug use, abuse, crime, kids not having lunches, being picked up by the police, and getting in fights. They are hardened criminals, who also turn into excited little children when he teaches them ukulele. 

I breaks my heart when he tells me these stories. I mean, these are little kids and yet he laughs if I offer to invite them round for dinner. My instinct is to mother them. Yet, if I did that, we could/would be targeted by gangs intent of burglary or other devious crimes. They are children on the outside, and yet their lives have taught them only violence and crime as survival instincts.

I feel hopeless when I think about this. The reality is that these children are going to grow up and be, whether willingly or forced, part of a gang system that will feed them nothing but hate and drugs. And there is nothing I can do about it, because I can't get involved. Even hubby has limits as to what he is allowed to do within his role.

So how do you help a kid who you can't give things to, who it isn't safe to bring back to your house, and who you know is vulnerable and needs love? 

Does my safety trump bringing them home?

It messes with my mind when I try and bring my sacrificial faith face to face with the reality of what would happen. And I know what would happen. Hubby's mother works in the police down here and knows the families of these kids well. She knows what they would do. And it wouldn't be pretty.

So I pray, and I cry, and I physically ache for these kids. And I try my best at a workplace that would try and change the inevitable for these families. But mostly, if I am really honest, I try not to think about it. I don't want to feel hopeless and helpless, so I block it out.

Until I read an article like the one linked here.

If you can't be bothered reading the link, here is the cliff notes:

1. abuse is bad

2. here are some signs of how abusers act

3. abusers are out to get you so watch for signs

4. we will help you if you are in an abusive relationship

Now I agree with 3 out of 4 of these points. And point 3 is not explicitly stated, it is more the way that the author talks about the abuser, as if they were purposely acting in such a way in order to fool you.

I don't think this is the case at all.

When I hear about the kids at the AE centre, what I hear about are children who have been brought up in an environment perfect for producing an abuser.

They own nothing.

They lack love.

They respect no one (especially women).

Figures of love use violence.

Violence is how they solve their issues.

If they want something they take it.

This list is exactly what happens in an abusive relationship. But I don't think an abuser looks a someone and thinks "right, I want to abuse them, so I need to con them into loving me and then beat the s**t out of them."

Rather, what I think happens is that they are genuinely looking for love, it's just that they have been taught that love is possession and control. It's not that they necessarily WANT to hurt someone, it's just that they have no other tools in their emotional toolbox to deal with relationships, jealousy, love, anger, or anything. So they use what they know.

The sad thing about our society is that we demonise those that abuse. Yet they have often been at the hands of abuse for so many years that nothing short of extreme, extravagant, loving help is going to make any difference. 

But instead of help, they receive misunderstanding. Instead of compassion, they receive death threats. Instead of love, they receive hate layered on top of hate layered on top of hate. They are told they are devious and wicked, instead of being told that they too are a victim. They are told they are as bad as socio and psychopaths, instead of being nurtured into healthy communication. 

Society is trying to heal hurt and anger with segregation and hate.

It won't work.

And yet we persist in this kind of thinking and acting time and time again. Even if we go to something less extreme as abuse, and look at bullying, the same response dominates how we treat those who victimise others.

Case and point is the X-factor debacle that dominate NZ headlines recently. Cliff notes again, judges said nasty things to contestant, judges were fired. From that one, very brief, story, news agencies around the world went crazy.

And so did the responders to the judges. 

It is unfathomable to me how we can yell against bullying, but then do it by bullying the judges themselves!! Hate messages, mail and tweets poured out towards these two judges who, to be fair, had been told to be harsh to make good tv. What was said about them was worse that what was said by them at times.

Society thought it was permissible to abuse an abuser.

Why?

Why do we think that pouring out hate towards those who have shown hate can possibly rectify a situation?

Is it still a form of 'a tooth for a tooth' mentality? 

Because that is not what we are called to. Jesus refuted this way of thinking by calling humanity to something greater. Not a tooth for a tooth, he said, but love your enemies. Bless those who curse you. Turn the other cheek to those who hurt you.

I AM NOT CONDONING ABUSE IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM.

If you are in an abusive relationship then get out, so you can get help, and so that they can get help outside of the volatile situation that is your relationship. Neither of you will heal or grow if you stay where you are.

But as a society we are not called to defend the honour of victims by making more victims. We are called to show love and understanding in order to offer arms of healing. We can point out bad behaviour by refusing to take part in it. 

Be better than those who hurt others. Don't stoop to their level by showing only hate and refusing help.

I would like to finish with a quote by Martin Luther King Jnr. that pretty much sums up everything I want to say about this; why try say it better when a master has captured it so eloquently.

"The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, 

begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. 

Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it.

Through violence you may murder the liar, 

but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. 

Through violence you may murder the hater, 

but you do not murder hate. 

In fact, violence merely increases hate. 

So it goes. 

Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, 

adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. 

Darkness cannot drive out darkness: 

only light can do that. 

Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."

The Face I Can't Forget

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Understanding the Misunderstood

For those of you who have been regular readers of my blog, you will be aware that I have spoken around the country regarding mental illness and how those struggling with it are treated. 

For those of you who are new here, go and read my first post. The summation of which is I use to be very mentally unwell. Now I am not.

Well, in all fairness my life has been a little more complicated than that. But the reality is that I once was a patient in psych wards and now I am a well functioning, healthy member of society.

As Sheldon Cooper from Big Bang Theory puts it "I am not crazy, my mother had me tested!"

Because of my history with mental illness I am a little bit worried any time I have a really down day ("Am I getting depressed?") or when I realise that one of my memories might not be 'real'.

That's right, you read that correctly. 

Sometimes my mind likes to play tricks on me. Or at least it use to. When this use to happen it would invent scenarios and people and places in a way that was basically as real to me as reality.

What this means is I have memories of things that never happened but, and this is key, affect me the same way and amount that my 'real' memories do.

Along with this little Matrix-esque mind bender for you, the medication I use to have to take by the bucket load means that my understanding of events in my past can be a little skewed. So events that I thought happened right after the other might be years apart, or happened the other way round. There are also huge chunks of my memory that are just not there. I read through my journals now (which I have kept since I was twelve) and don't recognise events or people that I apparently was hugely impacted by.

What this means for me is that my life history can be a huge tangle of crap covered, arsenic laced, memory string. I find a loose end, give it a tug, and the whole thing can unravel pretty quickly (I regularly thank God that I had the foresight to keep a journal. It has really helped me piece things together).

What this means for people close to me is that this process of discovering the truth of things that happened can be a very painful process. I can remember horrible things done to me that people claim never happened. How can I prove that it did if the other people involved say it didn't happen? Are they telling the truth or covering the ass? 

It also means that those more horrible memories that have had a hugely traumatic impact on my life may not actually be true. And that is a very hard pill to swallow. Some of these memories have shaped my reactions to and relationships with people. Some of these memories have taken me to counsellors and psychologists. Some of them have shaped who I am, for better or worse.

And yet they may have never happened.

Despite what this means for me, for the people I love who are impacted by these memories, it can mean the destruction of our relationship. They (understandably) don't want to trawl through dark memories that they do not view as relevant. Whereas I NEED to trawl through them to determine what is relevant.

Some people refuse to walk this road with me, and I really can't blame them.

What I really want to educate people about, especially those who know and/or care for people with mental illness, is that the things that happen in our minds are as important/impacting to our lives as anything that happens outside of our head; perhaps even more so in some respects. These things can't be refuted or proven, but they shape the way we live, think, love, and fear. And this doesn't stop if the illness goes away.

Take for an example someone who was abused as a kid. This memory will shape them throughout their lives. Perhaps they will overcome and be a survivor who takes control of their lives. Or perhaps they will spiral into the role of the victim and live a life of pain and destruction. Either way, the event shaped them.

Now, imagine that the event of sexual abuse had been hallucinated. Does this make it any less real to the person? If it is a vivid hallucination, there is often no way to tell between the image and reality. They look the same, and feel the same. And they have the same affect on their life.

But mental health patients don't often receive counselling or ongoing support for things that others believe they hallucinated. This means that these significant events in a persons life may never get addressed. They will not receive specialized help for this issue. Basically, a person who has been impacted by child abuse (even though imagined) will remain untreated for this.

I know this is hard to comprehend. It is hard to explain. It is hard to make people understand how real these hallucinations can be, or how devastating medication can be on the memory of a person.

But what needs to be known by people who may (God willing) never experience this mental mind-screw, is that these memories need to be acknowledged and addressed. People with mental health issues need to be talked to, listened to, and really heard. If they are taken seriously as people who have pain that needs to be acknowledged then maybe we will all be one step closer to not ostracizing and ignoring the weakest of our society.

So get out there and start listening people!

Cancer F**king Sucks

My mother-in-law has cancer.

It sucks.

I could leave my post at that and people would nod and agree and know that little else needs to be said. But I have always been a verbose kind of person so I have a lot more to say.

It f**king sucks.

If you haven't met my mama then you are missing out. She is an amazing lady. She is funny and sweet. She can be silly. She has the biggest heart for people. She is intelligent and happy and fun loving and wise and kind and everything.

But even if she was the most horrible person ever, what she is going through would still suck.

This last year we have stood with her as she has faced chemo treatment, lost her hair, laughed and cried, went through radiation, and finally finished treatment. Yesterday she went for her checkup and has been told to come back today with a support person. They have also already booked her in with a surgeon. It isn't looking good but we don't know how bad it is yet.

The number one sucky thing about cancer - the almost never ending waiting in limbo for results, for treatment, for more results.

Understandably, we are all shaken by this development. I can't even fathom how she must be feeling, but I know that I feel like my heart is cracking and my stomach is knots. I watch my husband closely, knowing that he is hurting, but knowing we don't know how much to hurt yet. I want to be there for him when it really hits home, but I have no idea what I will do when it does. I want to hug them all and by sheer force of will keep them all from falling apart, but I know I can't.

Sucky thing number two - the feeling of complete helplessness in the face of the invisible enemy.

Luke and I have decided that we need to be near the family during all of this. Every one is emotionally exhausted after the last year of treatment, and we know they will need us if we have to face more of the same. So I have told my work that I will be handing in my notice soon. We are looking at houses to rent. I am applying for jobs in another city. Our entire lives are about to change. I want to do it, I know we need to do it, but I am scared. Not about the move, but about how I am going to have the emotional energy to support my husband and family and also be able to look for new work and housing. And I feel selfish for worrying about my ability to cope, because this isn't about me.

Sucky thing number three - the not knowing what will happen and therefore not being able to plan well for the future.

I am scared for my family and how we will all cope with bad news. I am scared for her and how everyone will keep going. And I am angry that this is happening. And sad. And confused. And worried. Grrrrrrr......I hate this!

Sucky thing number four - watching the people you love suffer.

Today I am taking one step at a time. I am hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. I have written check lists for things that need to be done to make sure I don't forget anything in the days ahead. I am trying to remember to breathe and rest in Jesus.

And I am praying. Praying so hard.

Mama, I love you. You have brought me so much joy and love and I hate that you are going through this. Hopefully our move will make it that much easier for you. As a family we will face this. With Jesus we have hope no matter what the outcome. I wish I could make this better for you, and knowing I can't is hard.

We are on our way Mama. We will be there as soon as we can.

Dear Jesus, please make me skinny!

Hysterical breakdowns are not an unknown phenomenon in our household. I live with four boys and at least once a month one of us five has a meltdown.

10 points for guessing who it is.

That's right, it's Luke.

Jokes, it's totally the one with the ovaries.

Despite the fact that I totally hate fulfilling a stereotype, I can't help it! The emotions, and tears, and snot, and sobbing just won't stay down, no matter how hard I try and suppress them. It's sooo embarrassing (especially if it ever happens at work....holla at me emotional ladies!) but it happens and I can't stop it. 

This month, despite trying desperately to channel the stoneheartedness of my testosterone fueled flatmates, I ended up crying like a wee baby about (yet again) my weight issues.

I have come to learn that I don't like being fat (shocker!). Like, I really really really don't like it. I don't like the stares I get in the street ( no jokes, I saw a guy driving do a HUGE double take once and, unless I am the sexiest thing going, the only conclusion I can come to is that he had in fact never seen a fat person before). I don't like people at work giving me tips on how to lose weight. I don't like having to avoid foods I like. I don't like not being able to fit some clothes.

So I decided to quit. 

I told Luke that I was over it and I was gonna eat what I want and get fat and die happy. And he found this hilarious. Apparently it was not the right day for him to laugh at that because I got rather pissed off and then cried lots.

See, as much as I want to be skinny, I sabotage myself all the time. In my concious mind I am working hard at losing weight. In my subconcious mind I am a scared little girl who is trying to protect herself from the world by creating a fat suit. 

As much as I want to be skinny, I more afraid of it than anything. 

I am afraid that when I get there I still won't be happy with what I have. I am afraid that I will get hurt by men again. I am afraid that I won't be able to maintain it. I am scared that I still won't be good enough.

Which is the fundamental problem.

It is not about the weight. Yes, I do need to loose it in order to be healthy. But focusing on the weight has meant that I have forgotten about the reasons I got fat in the first place. 

I have started idolising being skinny. I started to think that when I use to be skinny I was happy and will be again if I could just get skinny again. The truth is that it is bollocks. If I am not happy in myself now then I won't be when I lose weight. And I wasn't happy when I was skinny...which is why I ended up fat.

So I am trying to change my mindset from focusing on losing weight to one that is focused on being healthy and happy. This still means I have to avoid foods that aren't good for me, and I still have to exercise and all that, because that is part of being healthy in body and mind, but the outlook is totally different.

Still, as I write this, I am overcome by a sense of desperation and yet resignation. I am really struggling to understand how to keep going in the face of weight that is getting harder and harder to shift. The thought of this being a lifelong struggle fills me full of helplessness. 

I hate that I have done this to myself. I hate that I now have to battle everyday of my life in order to live well. It makes me angry and dejected. I say I don't care anymore but the fact is I really really do. It hurts a lot knowing that this is my fault.

I feel like I have tried every diet in the book and still have so far to go. Luke described it as running a marathon, where you get half way through and wanna die on the spot but you keep going coz there is no other way to finish. There is also a billboard on the way to my work that says "The pain of doing it is not as bad as the pain of regretting not doing it." Funnily enough it is a billboard for a gym!

It is hard trying to put into words what it is like staring your own regret in the mirror every morning to people who may have never had weight issues. It is hard to explain how it isn't a just physical battle, it is a mental and emotional one as well. It is hard to tell people who say "just count calories in and calories out and you should loose weight" that it isn't that simple. 

I find blogging helpful. I hope it reaches people who. like me, want to lose weight and yet want to give up at the same time. I hope this reaches those who are so confused as to what they really want that they sabotage themselves and then hate themselves for it. I hope this reaches people who are losing hope.

Because at the end of the day, underneath all the pain and heartache, I do have hope. I have hope that it isn't always going to be like this. My faith in Christ tells me that one day every tear will wiped away and all pain will end. I believe that my pain about weight counts. And so I have hope.

For those of a different faith, or of no faith, please don't give up just yet. Please comment below and let me know so I can support you and in turn feel supported. Your battle with weight is no small thing and I understand the pain that it causes you and how little you feel understood.

We are not alone. even though our fat suits attempt to lie to us and tell us we are.

Just keep breathing, keep living, keep listening to the people who love you, and let's find a way to live a life that we dream of!

Which is more important....forgiveness or healing?

On my way to work in the mornings I tend to arrive at the train station about 10mins early so I can sit in my car and read my bible and pray a bit (I know, I am so holy and I put you all to shame). I do this so I start my day the right way, focused on God and not on how tired, grumpy, wanting to be in bed I feel.

Sometimes I just go through the motions. I don't really take in what I am reading and/or I don't really care (maybe not that holy after all). But sometimes what I have read really gets me thinking.

Like yesterday for example.

I was reading Mark 2:1-13. For those who don't know their bibles off by heart (shame on you.....you are going stright to hell, do not pass go, do not collect $200...jokes) this bit tells the story of a paralytic man. Jesus is chilling in a house, maybe eating some dinner or something, when the people of the town hear he is there. Like the celebrating swarming of the 1st Century, they all flock to see him, filling the house and the road outside and basically acting like people do around the Kardashians today, but for much better reasons (hopefully). 

In this town there is a paralytic man who is hanging out with his mates, who start to think to themselves that maybe they should get him to see Jesus and maybe something like a healing would happen (because by now stories of Jesus' healings have spread). So they pick up this guy on his mattress and start carrying to the place where Jesus is.

When they get there the doorway is full of people who are not gonna give up their precious opportunity to see and hear Jesus. Perplexed, these fellas start brainstorming and decide to climb up on the roof (which is flat in this part of the world, and usually has stairway access), and dig a hole through the roof (really hope the owner was pissed off that this) and then lowered the man, mattress and all, down to right smack bag in front of the great man himself.

Now I can imagine Jesus looking at the man on the mat, then looking up at the hole in the ceiling and breaking into a huge smile. He is really impressed with the faith and commitment they have all shown. So he looks at the man and says "your sins are forgiven." Some religious elders and stuff and kinda annoyed by this because in their reckoning only God has the authority to forgive sins and Jesus is a man. So Jesus (apparently reading their minds!!!) looks at them and says "which is easier, to forgive sins or to tell this man to get up, pick up his mat and walk. But so you know that the Son of Man [a title Jesus uses for himself] has the authority to forgive sins..." he looks at the paralytic man "stand up, pick up your mat and walk home." And the dude, who is paralysed remember, gets up, picks up his mat and walks out.

Now there are many amazing things about this story. I mean, the paralysed guy would have had muscles that were all shrunken and munted and yet he could get up and walk straight away! The full body healing that occurred here is mind blowing in medical terms. It is not just the cause of his paralysis that is healed, but all of the issues associated with that. All instantaneously!! Flippin wow!

But what struck me yesterday was not the healing. It was that the healing was almost an afterthought in the story. 

Jesus didn't heal the guy immediately. He forgave him first. And then he implies that it is harder to forgive sins than to heal this man.

The healing is not of the first importance to him!!

This made me think about the priorities I would have placed on this story. If I had been Jesus I would have healed the guy first then said something like "BOOM! Look at what I can do! Now believe all you peeps, because I am badass and,as a bonus, I will forgive his sins too!"

In churches I see the same thing. We pray often for people's healing, but how often is there salvation or relationship to God seen as more important than their physical ills. It is the mentality that says "show me a miracle first and then I will believe and ask to be saved."

And yet that is directly opposite to what Jesus does here. His main focus is on the spiritual ill of the man. He sees that the healing that had to occur between this man and God was more deadly, more disastrous than the physical disabilities he had. This reconciliation of man and God was the priority.

How would this attitude impact how we speak to people with disabilities and illnesses? If we adopted this attitude what would change in our hearts towards others? Would we stop seeing people with disabilities as something to be pitied but rather view the state of their faith as more important? Would their disability pale in comparison to their knowledge of God? Would we approach them differently? Would we approach our own issues differently?

I for one am someone who empathizes greatly with people who suffer from disabilities; I have been one and, but for the grace of God, would still be one. I remember feeling like if people prayed for my healing and it didn't happen, that I or they had failed in their faith. I stopped asking for prayer because I felt ashamed.

It was in the prayers of some ladies who prayed for God to be made known to me, not to be healed, that I was healed. They prayed for my salvation, and God, like in this story, forgave me first and healed me second. And the first was more important for me than the second. My shame and fear was lifted. Even if I had remained in my illness I believe that my experience with God in that moment would have changed my life anyway, even if not others perception of my life.

So when you pray for healing for others (and I am not saying not to) remember that of greater importance to God is that this suffering person would know the love and forgiveness of Christ. It is then that true, deep healing is found, that the broken is made whole, and the world is reconciled to its Creator.