This summer, I had my first total knee replacement. The second one will follow soon. Yes I am in my 50s which is a little young for that. In many ways, these surgeries have been over fifty years in the making. My journey with orthopedic specialists began when I was three years old. Problems and pain began when I was 15 and I already had arthritis. I was always active, enjoy exercise and going to the gym. Knee replacements were never a surprise diagnosis. They were simply the next chapter in a story that started before I was old enough to understand it.
It came down to how much life do I really want to miss? Biking and kayaking were getting more difficult. Visits to stores were becoming a thing to avoid.
As I’ve shared my surgery with others, I’ve received an outpouring of kindness, encouragement, prayers, and support. I am deeply grateful. Alongside that support, I’ve also reflected on something I’ve witnessed for years—not only in my own life, but in the lives of many people I’ve had the privilege of serving in the course of my work as a nurse and nurse practitioner.
I’ve met people who quietly carry shame because they believe their illness (mental or physical) means they didn’t have enough faith. They have been told:
If they just prayed harder…
If they trusted God more…
If they ate differently…
If they exercised enough…
If they lost weight…
If they had enough positive thinking…
…they wouldn’t be sick.
Those words are often spoken with good intentions, but good intentions can still wound.
As Christians, we absolutely believe God heals. Scripture is filled with stories of miraculous healing. I have seen prayers answered in remarkable ways. I believe God still works miracles today.
But Scripture also tells a bigger story.
Paul prayed repeatedly for his “thorn in the flesh” to be removed, yet God answered differently. Timothy was advised to take practical medicine for his stomach ailments. Luke was a physician. Blindness, paralysis, infertility, chronic illness, and suffering appear throughout the Bible, and not every faithful follower was miraculously healed.
Sometimes God’s provision comes through medicine.
Sometimes through surgery.
Sometimes through physical therapy.
Sometimes through scientists, researchers, nurses, therapists, physicians, and caregivers who have dedicated their lives to relieving suffering.
I also believe improving your lifestyle is a tremendous help to almost any condition. In my practice I ask my patients regularly to try small changes as they do help and medical treatment alone is almost never the whole answer.
Receiving medical treatment is not a lack of faith. It is often one of the very ways God answers prayer.
One of the saddest things I encounter is when someone believes their diagnosis is evidence God is disappointed in them. As a psychiatric nurse practitioner, I’ve listened to people whose depression, anxiety, chronic pain, ADHD, autoimmune diseases, or disabilities have been made even heavier because someone suggested they simply needed to pray more or improve their lifestyle. Sometimes this has led to people suffering longer than necessary,
Prayer should bring comfort. It should never become another burden.
Not every illness is preventable.
Certainly, our choices matter. Nutrition matters. Exercise matters. Sleep matters. Avoiding harmful substances matters. Caring for our bodies is an important part of stewardship. Yet, 75-80% of deaths each year in the United States are from disease. Obviously many of those dear people had faith, prayed, ate well, and exercised up to shortly before the end.
Not every disease comes from poor choices.
Some people inherit genetic conditions.
Some are born with structural abnormalities.
Some develop autoimmune diseases despite living exceptionally healthy lives.
Some experience injuries.
Some develop cancer.
Some, like me, have joints that have been problematic since early childhood.
Suggesting that every illness could have been avoided if someone had simply “lived better” creates unnecessary guilt for people who are already carrying enough.
Compassion asks a different question. Instead of asking, “What did you do wrong?” Compassion asks, “How can I walk alongside you?”
As I recover from knee replacement surgery, I am praying. I am also taking my medications. I’m attending physical therapy faithfully. I’m doing my exercises even when they hurt. I’m accepting help from family and friends. I’m grateful for the surgeon who spent years learning how to replace worn-out joints.
None of those things compete with my faith. They are part of it.
If someone you love is struggling with illness, disability, or chronic pain, encourage them. Pray for them. Sit with them. Bring them a meal. Drive them to an appointment. Celebrate small victories. Listen more than you speak.
If you are tempted to explain why they are suffering, pause first. They may already be asking themselves those same painful questions.
Let’s be people who replace shame with grace, judgment with compassion, and simplistic answers with faithful presence.
Sometimes the greatest gift we can offer isn’t an explanation. It’s simply reminding someone they are deeply loved by God—even when healing doesn’t look the way they hoped.
