I wrote it to him. How we’ll know more in May, but in order to heal me, we might need to burn me. We might need to burn my heart, to be exact. They think there are too many signals coming from all over, and not just the sinus node. That’s the node considered the pacemaker of the heart.
So they take these catheters and insert them through a vein, and they travel right to the core of me. And they use them to scar me, because the scar tissue blocks input from the wrong channels that are causing the heart to contract. The scar tissue allows the right impulse to control the heart. Right now, my heart responds to impulses that damage it. That could damage me.
And writing it down made me wonder how many times God uses scars in the same way. Yeah, does He allow scars so that we learn how to follow his impulses, and not our own? So that we learn what His are, and stop fibrillating to the sound of a thousand voices that are overpowering His? Does He allow scars from relationships so we learn to block what’s not healthy for us? Does he burn us with poverty, with drugs, with power, with money, with sex so we learn that they’re not enough to fill us. So that we learn that He is? Are there a thousand ways that He uses scar tissue to bring us closer to His perfectly beating rhythm?
Yeah, surrendering and signing informed consent for something like that can be scary, but it can kill you if you don’t. It might not happen right away, but follow those crazy impulses, and you’ll find yourself short-of-breath with a pulmonary embolism or brain deranged by stroke. You’ll find yourself in heart failure.
So maybe, we say Yes, God. I’ll sign the dotted line. I will trust that you’ll only build scar tissue for Good, because that’s what you always say you’ll do. No scar is given that doesn’t have the potential to heal someone else, if only by showing your own and saying “I know. I understand.”
That’s what God is teaching me, whether or not I need the ablation.
Also, would you believe I feel joy and strength and fierceness and quirky personality returning? I feel like the Me that used to be again. The Me that I wasn’t sure would ever be again. Praise. Praise. Praise God for repairing my joy through the brokenness of my heart.