For a couple of weeks, I had a problem when I visited the men’s room: every time I used the toilet paper, it came away with blood on it. I said to myself “No big deal, it’s just a little bit of blood. It’ll go away.”
But it didn’t go away, and soon it was not “a little bit” of blood, but a vivid pool of blood (mixed in with other things) left in the toilet when I was through, and it took extra toilet paper to mop up the blood. One night, I spent much of the night in the men’s room, making substantial hourly deposits of diarrhea and blood. I lost about 3 pounds that night.
After one particularly bad episode shortly before dawn, I stumbled back to bed and determined to try to change my thoughts. Instead of continuing to bemoan the (very) unpleasant circumstances, I tried to look at the situation from heaven’s perspective. I began by repenting for the foolish belief that I needed somebody else to pray for me and accepted the responsibility for praying for myself. I turned my attention toward heaven, and settled my spirit with Holy Spirit. It’s a nice place.
In that settled place, I brought up my physical issue, and in a few minutes, he showed me a portion of his grace that he said would fit my need. So I accepted that bit of grace, and as an act of faith, I applied it to my colon (all this happened as I watched it, inside my head; how do you describe that?). As I applied it, I felt something change: a place inside my physical body where there had been a pain shifted into an itch, but there was no real way to measure a change, since I was pretty empty by this point.
When the morning arrived, I was surprised to discover that I had reason to visit the men’s room, and the results had no blood and no diarrhea, and it hasn’t come back. I was still dehydrated from the night’s adventures, but that was easily addressed with several glasses of water. I’ve decided I like having God heal me.