Raise a Hallelujah

Out of It.

Continuing my last blog about my May 16, 2023, deep brain stimulation surgery and ensuing dysphasia, I woke up in shock that I couldn't speak. I was able to respond to prompts by medical staff to raise this finger, wiggle this toe, and so on. But verbal communication was nil for me. I knew I was all with it, but anyone looking at me pretty much thought I was now "out of it." It was a few days post surgery on a Sunday morning that God broke into my life.  

Shattered Shoulder.

Back up three years to April of 2020 during the Covid-19 pandemic. I had taken a Parkinson's related tumble in the kitchen and shattered my shoulder in eight places. I lay in the hospital, new fake shoulder firmly in place reminding me that the old shattered one was all dug out with knife and forceps. There was no one around, as Covid protocols called for no visitors. It was just me and my God. After the "why me" prayer and "what else can happen to me" outcry I looked at my phone and it had a fresh message on it.

Raise a Hallelujah.

I opened the message on my smart phone and the person sheepishly "texted" in iPhone-auto-corrected English that she felt bad I could have no visitors, but, oh here was a song attached that she felt might  help me. I played the song and it was as if Jesus sat down at my bedside and said, "Hey, I know your struggles, but these complaints of defeat need to change into songs raised up in hope to the God who loves you. So raise that hallelujah, Eileen.!" And that was the song that was playing; a fairly common worship song the past few years in churches like mine composed by the Helsers and published by Bethel Music. I played it all night and the words became my anthem for recovery then. 

    I will raise a hallelujah
    In the presence of my enemies.
    I will raise a hallelujah
    Louder than the unbelief.

Raise a Hallelujah.

Fast forward to 2023 and I'm not with it at all, on my back in a hospital ICU room fed by a tube and feeling like this could me my existence now. It was Sunday morning and my husband came into the room and plopped my iPad down on a extendo-tray in front of me. He turned on our church's live-streaming 9 a.m. service thinking maybe I would get some comatose comfort or something as he says. But suddenly something happened. During the church's beginning worship music that "Raise a Hallelujah" song was being played and a surge of spiritual fight returned to me, just like three years prior. I started weeping and so did my husband as I lifted my left arm and worshipped God. My anthem for recovery had returned.

Be a Warrior.

From that point forward, the battle was on. The Bible says in the book of Ephesians 6 that we are to be clothed with armor, spiritual armor to fight things like, "is this my existence?" Like someone going to war, we sometimes have to battle to remain in a position of trusting God. In the book of 2Chronicles, God routes an enemy army after King Jehoshaphat calls on God and decides to raise a hallelujah by trusting Him. He trusted God so much that he sent singers in praise and worship attire to lead his armies into the battle. The Bible says angels fought for him that day. So as I lay in my hospital bed that morning, I knew this wasn't going to be easy, but no one ever promised me easy since I was a kid. I am warrior and I believe this is a fight that includes some angels on my side. Oh, some of you were probably behind this initial breakthrough with your prayers, like Jehoshaphat, calling upon God for me. Thank you.