ICU – “I SEE YOU” PODCAST
Spirituality & Chronic Illness
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Living with a chronic illness can challenge not only the body, but also a person’s sense of identity, purpose, and hope. For many, spirituality becomes an important part of the healing journey—offering meaning in difficult moments, strengthening resilience, and helping people navigate uncertainty. Yet spirituality looks different for everyone, shaped by personal beliefs, values, and life experiences. In this episode of the ICU Podcast, we explore the role spirituality can play in coping with chronic vestibular conditions. We’re joined by Lynn Johnson, a vestibular patient and devout Christian, and Rev. Carol Rexroad Cannon, a vestibular patient and retired United Methodist pastor, as they share how faith and spirituality have supported their journeys and helped them find strength, connection, and hope.
Guests
Carol Cannon graduated with a BA in chemistry from Carleton College in Minnesota and received a Master of Divinity (MDiv) in Biblical, theological, and pastoral training from Yale Divinity School. She served with her husband Robert as a United Methodist pastor for forty years. Carol was diagnosed with vestibular neuritis in 2016, which developed into PPPD. Vestibular rehab therapy has helped restore her balance. Carol enjoys hiking mountain trails near her home, visiting with family, and volunteering in the church and community to work for justice, peace, and wholeness.
Lynn Johnson – Lynn’s life changed in 2015 when she suddenly developed imbalance and loud tinnitus. After months of worsening symptoms and multiple doctor visits, she was diagnosed with Autoimmune Inner Ear Disease (AIED) and Bilateral Vestibular Hypofunction. She now lives with profound hearing loss, oscillopsia, and imbalance, which ended her career as a high school biology teacher and limited her mobility and independence. Lynn believes earlier diagnosis might have preserved her hearing. Despite these challenges, she remains determined to live fully. She is a VeDA Ambassador, co-leads a support group for vestibular patients with hearing loss, and facilitates an AIED Facebook support community.
Finding Faith in the Midst of Dizziness: Spirituality and Chronic Vestibular Illness
Living with a chronic vestibular condition reshapes everything—how you move through the world, how you relate to others, and how you understand yourself. For many, it also reshapes how they relate to something larger than themselves: God, Spirit, community, or a sense of meaning and purpose.
In this ICU Podcast conversation, two vestibular patients—Lynn Johnson and Reverend Carol Rexroad Cannon—share how their faith and spiritual practices have carried them through profound loss, identity shifts, and ongoing uncertainty. Though their paths differ, their stories echo a common truth: spirituality doesn’t erase suffering, but it can transform how we live inside it.
Lynn: When Identity Falls Apart, Faith Becomes an Anchor
Before her illness, Lynn Johnson describes herself as hopeful, deeply rooted in a personal relationship with God from a young age. She believed in God’s promises, in miracles, and in the idea that God could “turn things out for your good, regardless of the circumstances around you.”
That trust was put to the test when her life changed abruptly in 2015. Sudden imbalance, loud tinnitus, and a cascade of worsening symptoms led to a diagnosis of autoimmune inner ear disease (AIED) and bilateral vestibular hypofunction. Over time, she developed profound hearing loss, oscillopsia, and imbalance, ending her career as an award-winning high school biology teacher and limiting her mobility and independence.
For Lynn, the medical losses were devastating—but the deepest pain was losing her sense of identity.
“I thought the Lord had given me a calling as a teacher… I was doing so good, and then bam! Spontaneously, I got hit, and all that was taken away… How am I gonna be me without hearing, without being able to walk, being wobbly?”
In the chaos, she made a choice: instead of turning away from God, she leaned in harder. She describes her faith as an anchor—not because it gave her easy answers, but because it gave her a place to bring her confusion, fear, and grief.
She returned repeatedly to scriptures like Proverbs 3:5–6 (“trust in the Lord… even when I didn’t understand what was happening to my body”) and Romans 12:12 (“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer”). That verse, she says, “jumped out at me” and became a lifeline:
- Joyful in hope – Expecting God to “show up,” even while depressed and disoriented.
- Patient in affliction – Accepting that her body was in a long, painful process, not a quick fix.
- Faithful in prayer – Staying connected to God even when she couldn’t make sense of what was happening.
Importantly, Lynn is candid that faith didn’t shield her from depression or doubt.
“I was going through a depression because I thought I lost myself… There are days you question, ‘Why is this happening to me?’… Faith isn’t about not having doubts.”
Her turning point wasn’t a single miracle moment, but a gradual reframing: realizing that her illness had not erased who she was. The gifts God placed in her—joy, creativity, compassion—were still there, they just needed new expressions.
Over time, Lynn developed intentional daily spiritual practices that helped her reconnect with that truth:
- Bible journaling – Reading scripture, meditating on it, and illustrating it creatively on paper, turning reflection into a form of worship.
- Gratitude journaling – Writing down three things she was thankful for each day, shifting her focus from what she’d lost to what remained.
- Scripture reminders – Posting verses on her refrigerator or mirror as “encouraging truths” she could return to throughout the day.
- Service to others – Volunteering with VeDA, co-leading support groups, and supporting other patients, which helped move the focus off her own suffering and back onto connection.
Hearing loss also forced Lynn to reimagine worship. Music had been her primary way of connecting with God, and losing the ability to hear it plunged her into a deep grief. But in that silence, she discovered a new way to worship.
“He had to take away my physical hearing so I can hear Him spiritually.”
Bible journaling, quiet reflection, and even out-of-tune singing with her grandbaby became new “songs” of praise. And in a very tangible sense, she did experience a miracle: with her cochlear implant, she can now hear again, even though she is profoundly deaf in both ears. Still, she’s clear: the real miracle began before the device—when she learned that “there’s still beauty, there’s still joy, and you still have life to live,” even in the middle of chronic illness.
Her message to those just starting their vestibular journey is simple and powerful:
“You’re not alone… This is an opportunity to discover your strength… There is joy even in this.”
Carol: Presence, Limits, and the Spiritual Discipline of Rest
Reverend Carol Rexroad Cannon comes from a different starting point: she was already a pastor when vestibular neuritis—and later, PPPD—entered her life. Yet her story echoes Lynn’s in key ways, particularly around community, calling, and learning to live within new limits.
Carol grew up steeped in church life—Sunday school, choir, youth group, and parents who modeled service both in church and the wider community. A pivotal moment came as a teenager on a backpacking trip in the Rockies, sponsored by her denomination. Standing on a mountaintop, overwhelmed by beauty, she prayed:
“Wow, God, I could stay here all day and praise you.”
What she “heard” in response reshaped her life: God reminding her that the divine presence is not only on the mountaintop, but “down there… in the people, in the farmlands, in the small towns, in the cities.” That experience crystallized her sense of calling to serve people, ultimately leading her to seminary and 40 years of ministry.
When vestibular symptoms appeared, that calling didn’t disappear—but how she lived it had to change.
She quickly discovered that she could no longer live as a 24/7 pastor. Walking was difficult, driving was often impossible, and meetings—especially those with multiple voices speaking from different directions—were overwhelming. She recalls bolting from church meetings because the sensory input was too much.
To continue in ministry, she had to:
- Set limits – Letting her husband (also a pastor) take on more meetings and responsibilities, especially during the early months.
- Delegate and release control – Trusting that others could handle tasks “well enough,” even if it wasn’t how she would have done it.
- Depend on others – Accepting rides to church and vestibular rehab, which, while humbling, also deepened relationships.
At the heart of her pastoral work—especially with people living with chronic illness—is a commitment to presence over platitudes.
“I don’t try to give them answers… I don’t quickly say, ‘Oh, it’s all going to be okay. God’s in charge.’ I just listen and accept their feelings and validate them.”
Rather than offering spiritual clichés, she sits with people in their pain, listens to their worries and sorrows, and, when invited, prays with them, not “for” them. Her prayers focus not on fixing, but on surrounding them with God’s healing presence, lifting up their concerns, their medical teams, and their caregivers.
She also points people toward resources that honor complexity, like the work of Kate Bowler, a theologian living with stage IV cancer, whose books and blessings speak honestly about chronic illness, dashed expectations, and the search for meaning. Carol shares part of Bowler’s blessing “for when you thought you would feel different now,” which asks for “relief and fresh hope” and help pacing ourselves in this new reality.
In her personal life, Carol’s spirituality is woven into daily, embodied practices that ground her in God’s presence and help her cope with vestibular challenges:
- Morning greeting – Each day begins by looking out the window and saying, “Good morning, Amma. Good morning, Abba. Good morning, light. Good morning, life. Good morning, love.” In a few short phrases, she names God as loving parent, as both masculine and feminine, as light, life, and love. This ritual recenters her in the truth that God—not her symptoms—is at the center of the universe.
- Taizé-style worship – Once a month, she joins a candlelit, contemplative service rooted in simple, meditative songs. Even though the service is only monthly, the melodies and prayers stay with her, “feeding her soul” and giving her strength to persevere.
- Sabbath rest as a daily practice – Every afternoon, she lies down for a nap—anywhere from 30 minutes to two hours—and calls it “Sabbath rest.” She frames this not as weakness, but as a spiritual discipline, grounded in the biblical rhythm of work and rest. For a brain that works overtime to maintain balance, this pause is physically necessary and spiritually restorative.
“If the holy one of the universe, who created everything, took a day of rest, how much more do we need rest?”
During this rest, she sometimes mentally sings Taizé songs or listens to music like Carrie Newcomer’s “You Can Do This Hard Thing,” a song that helped her survive the early days of her vestibular journey.
Like Lynn, Carol emphasizes gratitude and attention to small signs of grace—what a friend calls “God winks” or “God sightings”—and encourages people to keep a gratitude journal or share daily “thankfuls” with a partner. She also stresses focusing on what remains possible. A recent trip to Yosemite, for instance, didn’t look like the active hiking adventure she once imagined, but she could still stand in awe of Half Dome and the waterfalls and recognize God’s presence in that beauty.
Through it all, one conviction has carried her:
Trusting, “in some deep place in my heart,” that God is with her—
not because the dizziness stopped, but in the very midst of it.
A Shared Invitation: Quiet, Connection, and Hope
Both Lynn and Carol return to similar themes, even from different traditions and experiences:
- You are not alone—spiritually or in community.
- Your identity is more than your illness or your former job.
- Honest doubt and grief are part of faith, not a failure of it.
- Intentional practices—gratitude, journaling, singing, silence, rest—can create small pockets of peace inside ongoing struggle.
For listeners living with vestibular disorders—or any chronic condition—their stories offer a gentle invitation:
Find one small way, today, to be intentional about your inner life. Maybe it’s a whispered prayer, a few deep breaths, a line in a gratitude journal, five minutes of quiet, or simply looking out the window and greeting the day.
You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t have to call it “spiritual” at all. But, like Lynn and Carol, you may find that in making space for reflection, connection, and rest, a different kind of strength begins to emerge—one that holds you even when the world is still spinning.
