Chronic illness forces a reckoning; either your life shrinks, or its meaning deepens. After my lupus diagnosis, I began to understand what it truly means to be fully alive. The Bible teaches that Jesus promised an abundant life, but no one explained what happens when the body grows fragile. When you feel weak, and you know you just can’t keep up because your body won’t let you. I thought I understood. I watched my father battle stage four cancer for years. But it took my own lupus diagnosis for me to truly grasp how faith stays alive, even when our own strength does not.
The months leading to my diagnosis were a battleground. Mentally, I was driven to conquer the world, but physically, my body was constantly waging war against me. I felt betrayed. I did all the right things-I exercised, I ate well, I rested when I needed-but nothing was working. I found myself praying more often, making odd bargains with God, “If you let me feel better, I promise I will do this.” What I failed to understand was that God was always with me, but He was not my personal injury lawyer ready to negotiate my outcomes.
I was diagnosed with lupus in my late forties. The day my doctor gave me my official diagnosis, I felt a strange relief, knowing there was finally a name for what I was facing, but also a deep fear. For months, I had been half living, constantly rationing my energy for the most important things: work, family, or sometimes survival. I felt cheated. I wasn’t even fifty yet, but every day was a careful schedule to avoid a flare. It all felt surreal. And then I thought of my dad, how he bravely fought cancer for so many years, always with a smile, always with hope. In that moment, I realized I owed it to God and myself to discover how to live fully, even with this new chapter. Below, I share some tips for anyone facing a diagnosis, no matter what the illness, on how to live your best, fully alive life.
Illness is scary. The unknown is terrifying. But once you realize that God is for you, you begin to realize that every single day is a gift. Maybe one day is harder than the next, but you wake up, you see the birds outside, and you realize that nature is always for you, rooting you on with each bird’s song. Each day might bring uncertainty, but even in the smallest moments, like a quiet morning or a familiar breeze, we discover that grace is still present.
Well, you don’t have to really shout, but you can pray. Prayers are powerful. God always hears us, and he is always for us. Illness is scary and has a way of causing us to sink into despair. I remember being diagnosed, sitting in my kitchen, thinking, “Okay, now what? I am not even fifty. I have the energy level of a 100-year-old woman. Now what?”
Would my husband still love me?
Would my friends still care?
Will people still want to even speak to me?
All I wanted to do back then was sleep. But I remember sitting there, feeling so lost, and in that stillness, I whispered a simple prayer, “God, please help me take the next step.” And somehow, that was enough. Bit by bit, I learned that even when my energy was low and my body was betraying me, I could still say yes to small joys, small connections, just one moment at a time.
It took my lupus diagnosis to teach me something profound; rest is not a luxury; it’s a sacred rhythm. In the Bible, God gave us Shabbat, a weekly pause, a moment to slow down and remember that we are not defined by productivity. I realized I needed that same sacred pause. Now, I schedule rest as a vital part of my week, no guilt, just trust that God is with me, even in stillness.
Invite others to carry your light by letting them know your needs, one small step at a time. I know it’s hard; we often want to prove that we can do it alone. But illness is not a burden you have to carry alone. When I let others in, my husband, my family, and my friends, I realized that asking for help is an act of faith. It opens us up to love, to support and to God’s grace moving through others. When I opened my father’s Bible that he kept throughout his illness, I saw it highlighted right in front of me- Galatians 6:2, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way, you will fulfill the law of Christ.” That Bible kept my dad grounded through his own illness, and now, it’s reminding me to lean on others in mine.
So today, take that small step, invite others in, and let their love and support remind you that you are never alone on your journey.