The Church Being the Church

 A crazy thing happened to me this spring. 

At the beginning of April, I learned (by accident, in fact) that I had been dropped from Medicaid and lost all my benefits without notice, warning, or reason. That meant an immediate cut off of funding for my daily medicine, my nightly caregiving, and my new wheelchair that I had ordered four weeks prior - none of which I could afford to pay nor afford to be without. To this today (and probably until Kingdom come) no one can explain what happened, and some have simply chalked it up to "a glitch in the system." It resulted in an insanely frustrating and wearying month of hours and hours on the phone, trying to find one person in the state of Indiana who knew anything and who had any authority to do anything. It convinced me that Medicaid is now fully operated by AI and no one had autonomy over it... but that is a whole rant in itself that is for another day, or maybe never. 

As crazy as that was, it wasn't the truly crazy thing that I want to tell you about. But this is: 

About two weeks into the Medicaid nightmare, I noticed that the stress of it was taking a toll on my body - respiratory issues, loss of sleep, tension knots in my muscles, rashes, GI issues, and headaches - and my spirit - anxiety, rage, distraction, and depression. I was beginning to shut down, and it was over a stupid computer error than no one could fix. The base nonsensicalness of it all was making me insane. So as I felt myself barrelling into a panic attack, I called one of the pastors of my church, Symps, and asked him to pray with me for peace, help, and healing. 

Of course, he did and reminded me of scripture and stayed with me on the phone until I had calmed down. He asked me a few questions about what was going on, so I filled him in, as succinctly as I could. When he had enough information, he said, "Is it alright with you if I bring this matter to the other leadership at church tomorrow during our meeting, so they can pray for you as well?" Who am I to turn down an offer for my church leaders to intercede for me? So, I said yes. 

The next day, after their meeting, one of the leaders, Jena - my friend, neighbor, and small group leader - called me and asked if I wanted to talk. She is an excellent listener and is very good at being present with people who are hurting, and she let me pour out my heart, not just about what happened but how it was making me feel. It was like an impromptu counseling session that I didn't even know I needed. 

Shortly after our call, our senior pastor, Ryan, called me. He asked if it would be ok with me if he shared my story with the deacons, to see if they could financially assist me through this crisis. I quickly told him that I didn't want to take money from the church and that wasn't why I called Symps in the first place. But Ryan said, "We know that, but this what those funds are there for - you are part of this family, and we're meant to take care of you." When he said that, I felt safe and loved, so I said yes. 

A little bit later, the deacon chairperson, Ruth, called me. She wanted me to give her the whole story, so I filled her in, answering her clarifying questions as I went along. Then she discussed it with the deacons and they agreed that they wanted to cover my medical expenses for the next two weeks, in which time I was hopeful that it would all be resolved. She told me that if it wasn't resolved in that time, to let her know so they could do more. I was so overwhelmed and thanked her through tears. "I do have one grievance that the deacons wanted me to bring to you," she added at the end. "It's that you didn't come to us sooner. If this happens again, don't wait so long!" Then she prayed with me.  

In addition, they advised me to schedule a pro-bono appointment with a Medicaid advocate that week, through a ministry associated with our church. I called the ministry leader, Mary Ann, and she told me she'd have the best advocate she knew there the next day. Sure enough, this awesome lady spent several hours with me, making calls and fighting for me when I felt too weary to fight for myself. Even though she wasn't able to resolve it all, it meant so much to me that I wasn't alone and she didn't give up. 

These friends followed up with me throughout the month, praying for me, encouraging me, and giving me hugs and care as much as I needed it. My small group supported me in big ways, too. The whole thing was resolved by the beginning of May, but I only got through that difficult time because I knew I was seen, loved, and cared for by the Lord and his people. 

Like I said, crazy stuff, right? It seems extraordinary (and it is!) but then, why should I be surprised? It's just the Church being the Church, the way God intended it.