The Positive Life

Lessons Learned From Living With HIV/AIDS

By Shane Stanford

As a person living with HIV and AIDS, I see my entire life as a race—a race against illness and disease, against fear and uncertainty, against discrimination and prejudice. A race against time. In fact, “race” is a good metaphor for what, on occasion, has been a difficult journey with many twists and turns: I grew up as a hemophiliac, discovered I was HIV-positive at 16, and then observed how the secrecy of my HIV status affected my family’s emotional stability and relationships.

Certainly, mine has been a journey marked by spiritual struggles and tension, from watching my denomination wrestle with the decision to ordain me, to being rejected by the first church I was appointed to pastor.

And, not surprisingly, I have suffered great sadness and disillusionment along the way, including the loss of dear friends to the disease, as well as the loss of others to the fear surrounding it. So far, the journey hasn’t been easy; it has often pushed me to trust beyond what I can see and understand, and even stretched the limits of my faith—not so much in God as in God’s people.

No, this is not a path I would have chosen, for I am no martyr, and I certainly don’t qualify as the perfect Christian. But, oddly enough, so many miles now into this journey, I would not trade what I have learned from the disease either.

Over the years, I have frequently been asked to share my story, to make real for various groups what my life has been like as a Christian minister living with HIV/AIDS. Invariably, following each talk, people gather to ask many questions. Some want to know about the everyday details of living with HIV or dealing with chronic illness. Others ask about my family and how this journey has affected our relationships. Then there are more personal questions, touching upon my health, intimacy, and, most fascinating to some, how I can be the father of three healthy daughters. I answer each inquiry in stride, trying to be as honest and forthright as possible, while also respecting the privacy and dignity of those whom my answers might affect.

But the one question that has intrigued me and shaped my reflection most is, “What have you learned from living as an HIV-positive person?” Of course, my understanding of that is different from what the individual is actually asking. Most people want to know how my life has been shaped by a biological, physical ailment. However, I have come to view my medical condition, quite simply, as the doorway through which I take hold of something more valuable—something that affects my view of others, influences my relationships, and frames how I see God.

Certainly, my answers have matured over the years. No longer do I view what the Lord has shown me through this disease as static; rather, I see it as more of a process, just as I see living with the effects of the disease. I no longer look for the “big picture” of God’s plan. If I were busy trying to make sense of my circumstances, I doubt that I would notice how HIV has provided me with an incredible glimpse into life—into the best of what the Lord offers in this world and the best of what His people can become.

This journey has shown me God’s calling for each of us is to respond faithfully as His children. It’s also taught me important lessons that, if all who call themselves “Christian” learn as well, could change our world.

“Lessons?” you ask. You bet!

Life is learned not from studying or spending time in a classroom, but from living, sometimes with blessings and opportunities, but more often with struggles and challenges. And it is not a one-time thing. No, the learning does not stop; we just have to keep showing up.

Lessons? Yes!

Lessons about time. Because of my illness, I am reminded each day that time is a privilege given to us by God, a luxury afforded to us along with the possibility that each of us can make a difference in this world.

Lessons about relationships. I am blessed with a beautiful wife, three wonderful daughters, family members, and friends who remind me that the most important things we do in this world are not done alone.

Lessons about simplicity. “More,” “bigger,” and “nicer” pale in comparison to simple things like sunsets with those you love and the laughter of children at play.

And most importantly, lessons about real faith. Personally, HIV reminds me every day that, with God’s grace, what I need, I have—and what I have is sufficient. Sufficient to confront the health struggles of today and the uncertainties of tomorrow; sufficient to meet the needs of others if we, the body of Christ, agree to meet them together. For the body of Christ, with all of its imperfections, remains the hope of the world (when we truly live like it), by bearing witness to this amazing gospel that says God passionately loves the unlovable, the marginalized, and the forgotten. Oh, and by the way, that means we are to love them too!

I am not saying HIV is easy for any of us. There is still too much death, too much hopelessness, too much loneliness, and too much brokenness surrounding this disease. There have certainly been times when

I’ve felt the emptiness and desolation of a seemingly God-less landscape. But the truth is, I have never been alone there, no matter how isolated the path has appeared. And this path, like all of our journeys in Christ, offers real lessons for real people for real life—teaching us much about loving God and loving others.

Your journey is no different. Maybe you have made mistakes in your life that seem irreparable or unforgivable. Or maybe mistakes have been made against you that are too difficult to forgive or forget. Possibly, the way has been smooth, but you missed the lessons because the “good life” got in the way. Or maybe life has been messy and uncomfortable, and all you have wanted was to get around the next bend in the road. I hear you. But more importantly, God hears you too.

With all I have been through, I’ve discovered that life is not just some measurable canvas of goods and bads, joys and sorrows, laughter and tears. No, life is more like a mosaic, which is discovered through the composition of its diversity: no single color or component can adequately define its image, any more than one hardship or achievement can or should. And, thus, it is these diverse circumstances, victories, and struggles—glimpses overlapping and intertwined rather than simply a snapshot of one success, struggle, or failure—that unveils the deeper meaning and purpose of life. We are more than the sum of what we can describe, accomplish, or even endure.

The journey is filled with various colors and shades, whose real beauty is detected only by watching the angles and reflections—not of the blues, greens, or browns, but of the blues, greens, and browns together. And that is not enough either. One glance will not do; it takes watching the mosaic day in and day out to catch a real and accurate glimpse.

As our life unfolds, we learn about why, how, and who we are becoming. Life—real life, mind you—experienced in these terms lies not in the vastness or value of what we find as much as in the discovery that what we were looking for had been within our grasp all along.

So, we run the race through each twist and turn, watching for the next horizon, amazed at the scenery, but always aware that we are not alone. Along the way, we discover that each marker means something, and that even with obstacles and setbacks, we matter too. Nothing could be sweeter to find. Or more beautiful to see. Nothing is more positive.