“I say to God, my rock: ‘Why have You forgotten me? Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?’ As with a deadly wound in my bones, my adversaries taunt me, while they say to me all the day long, ‘Where is your God?’ Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God.” (Psalm 42:9-11)
NOTE: throughout this article I will share a few songs that have meant a lot to me during this difficult journey I’ve been on. Here is the first one, “I Will Lift My Eyes” by Bebo Norman.
The words of this Psalm mean a lot to me and have become even more precious as of late. The article you’re reading was born out of much anxiety in my heart and many tears in my eyes. I will explain my situation and then hopefully leave you with a bit of hope and encouragement.
Back in 2020 I started to notice something odd with my vision - when I would look at straight lines (the outline of a skyscraper, the yellow/white lines on roads) they appeared a bit wavy. I thought it was a bit odd but didn’t pursue it. In 2021, just a couple months before our family moved back to southern Oregon and I came on staff here at JPC, I had a routine eye appointment. The optometrist was a bit baffled, having seen that there were little “egg-yolk” like things growing inside my eyes. She wasn’t sure what to make of it so she referred me to a retina specialist for further examination and proper diagnosis. In May of 2021 I was diagnosed by my retina specialist with a very rare, genetic disease in my eyes that affects the retina. The long, clinical name for my condition is Adult-Onset Foveomacular Vitelliform Dystrophy (try saying that five times fast 😂). I call it Macular Dystrophy for short . If you’re interested in reading more about my condition you can do so by clicking here.
*NOTE* This condition is different from Macular Degeneration.
I am thankful to God that so far it has not affected my quality of life in any practical sense. I would classify it thus far as a mild, somewhat quirky annoyance. Straight lines are a bit wavy and sometimes letters on a page appear mildly distorted. And I truly do thank the Lord for its mild progression! But where this story gets more difficult for me personally is that this disease is, so far at least, incurable and untreatable. And a prognosis of how bad it may get and how that will affect my life long-term is an educated guess at best. Best-case scenario (outside of a miraculous healing): the progression remains slow and mild and never becomes more than a mild annoyance. Worst-case scenario: I lose central vision in both of my eyes at some point. Thankfully with this disease, peripheral vision remains largely unaffected, so it’s not “lights out” so to speak, and that does bring me a measure of comfort.
As one of your pastors, I want to humbly ask that you remember me in your prayers as the Lord may lead. But this article is not about me. Rather, I felt compelled by the Holy Spirit to write my thoughts down and share them with you all, our wonderful church family, both to be vulnerable (we pastors are not given an escape-hatch from difficulty) and to encourage you in the midst of whatever type of “thorn in the flesh” you may be currently experiencing.
Listen to “Faith More Precious Than Gold” by Mission House
In the Church we talk a lot about suffering, and often in an abstract sort of way. But it’s another thing entirely to walk through it, whatever variety it may be. And if I can be totally honest and transparent with you, this condition has brought into my life a very particular type of suffering, namely mental and emotional suffering. As I said, I’m thankful the condition itself has not progressed too much so far. But BY FAR the most difficult part about this is the anxiety and mental gymnastics involved with a rare disease and an unknown prognosis. The reality is I don’t know what’s going to happen with this in the future. And that uncertainty causes me A LOT of anxiety. I’ve mentioned before in sermons, in a humorous way, that I wrestle with OCD and anxiety. Humor notwithstanding, I really do struggle with those things. And that makes the not-knowing especially hard for me. I’m not good at just leaving something in God’s hands and letting it go 🙂And that’s where this particular thorn in the flesh really takes its toll on me. Will I be able to read and write in ten years? See my children grow up without hindrance? Throw a ball with my grandchildren someday? Lose the ability to drive? Have one or both of my kids inherited this disease from me (the chances are around 50% for each of them)? Honestly, I don’t know the answers to any of those questions. But God knows. And that has to be enough…which is very difficult for me as a planner and control-freak.
The daily uncertainty and the scary questions that come into my thinking as a result force me to continually cast these burdens upon the Lord (Psalm 55:22, 1 Peter 5:7) and find my hope in His presence, rather than in my circumstances. And guess what - it’s SO difficult for me. I’ll be very honest with you all: this is hard for me. I don’t do this very well, and it’s an area I’m having to learn to grow in. I know theologically that God loves me so dearly and cares for me so well. But it’s difficult to rest in that truth when there is so much uncertainty involved in this whole thing. My beloved brothers and sisters, I know I’m not alone in that tension. And I want you to know that it’s okay to not be okay. Our Lord is such a good shepherd - the Good Shepherd - and you are His precious, dearly-loved lamb. Whether you know it or not, He’s holding onto you. He really does care for you. And me. Suffering, affliction, and difficulties do not diminish that truth or invalidate it in any way. And He understands how difficult it can be for us to hang onto that truth in the midst of uncertainty. As a Christian musician once said at a concert I attended: “God is not afraid of your doubts.”
Now, in addition to giving you these thoughts I want to give you something else that will hopefully help you: I want to give you permission. Permission to not “be okay” in every moment. Permission to grieve. Permission to feel scared, overwhelmed, and uncertain. The Lord knows. He understands. Dear child of God, your Lord knows. He is still “El Roi,” the God who sees you and hears you. And He is the God who weeps alongside His suffering people (John 11). Are you anxious, scared about the present and/or the future, uncertain why God has asked you to bear this particular (and heavy) load? Me too. You’re not alone. And our gracious Father sees us. And loves us. He hears and He knows.
Listen to “Lilies and Sparrows” by Jess Ray
Now, what practical things can you take away from all of this?
First, I’d like to encourage you to fill out a prayer card on the first Sunday of each month (they’re in the seatback pockets of the sanctuary chairs). We three pastors (Dustin, Richard, myself) along with our elders pray specifically for each and every request that comes in when we have our monthly elders meeting (Session). And we would love to pray for YOU.
Second, I’m always happy to pray for you and with you anytime. So please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. You can send me an email: scott.w.matson@gmail.com Honestly, I’d love to pray for you and seek God’s blessing along with you.
My friends, please remember the hope we have in Jesus - one day, He will wipe every tear from our eyes, relieve us forever of all suffering, and we will enjoy His presence forever (Revelation 21:1-4). He is preparing a place for us, and He’s preparing us for that place! As Dr. R.C. Sproul once said, “God allows suffering to come into our lives to refine us, as it were, to teach us how to be more and more dependent on Him.” In some mysterious way that I imagine will only be fully realized when we’re finally with Him, difficulties and suffering refine us and prepare us for the glories of eternity. (2 Corinthians 4:17)
So hold on, dear one. You will see an end to your trial. I will be healed of this eye condition. We will see God face-to-face. And on that day, that will be the only thing that matters. We may be healed before we’re in Heaven. Or we may not. But either way, let’s hang on a bit longer. Don’t give up. And remember that God Himself suffered unimaginable pain and difficulty so we could enjoy eternity in His presence. All praise to Him alone!
So as I close, I want to give you one final encouragement. Hang onto Jesus. Don’t let go of Him. Remember the words of our Lord to the church at Philadelphia: “The one who conquers [holds onto their faith until the end], I will make him a pillar in the temple of My God. Never shall he go out of it, and I will write on him the name of My God, and the name of the city of My God, the new Jerusalem, which comes down from My God out of heaven, and My own new name.” (Revelation 3:12)
Finally, listen to “His Glory and My Good” by the Worship Initiative (featuring Robbie Seay Band). This song has been a great encouragement to me almost daily the past couple of months.
~ Pastor Scott