Everytime I hit a dry spot, everytime I start to wonder if I can keep going, He goes and does something that from this vantage point looks nothing short of spectacular.
Like this.
There's this little boy I've been praying for. A friend's nephew. Born eight weeks premature with a defective heart. Put, as a last resort, on a machine that pumps the blood throughout the body so that the weak heart chambers need not try to maintain blood pressure. A machine that at the most is supposed to keep its patient alive for two weeks.
This little boy was on it for four weeks.
It got so that I dreaded hearing from my friend. It's not a reaction I'm proud of, but it's one I'm prone to, as a human who struggles at times with what I see as compared to what I know. I kept praying. At times it was the formulaic prayer of one who prays from a sense of duty, the kind of prayer that you have to choke past the boulder in your throat because part of you is screaming accusations at the other part of you (accusations that you do your best to ignore but which sound and awful lot like "hypocrite", "doubter", and "faithless"). And then there were the prayers that were borne of a quiet, desperate trust in the Creator of that tiny, weak heart. Sometimes I couldn't tell the difference.
I dreaded hearing from him. There was a battle raging internally. I knew he was past some point of recovery. I knew he had been on the machine for too long. I knew it.
I knew God could heal him. I knew I believed for a reason. I knew that whatever happened, God would still be sovereign. I knew it. So some days I prayed. Somedays, I tried very hard not to think about it.
The other day I got this call from my friend.
The baby got a heart.
After hanging onto life for far longer than he should have been able to, he got a heart.
I wish I could tell you that I knew it would happen. But only part of me did. It is a sweet, sweet victory. The child will live, and grow, and thrive. I know because I am still praying for him. That baby does not and most likely never will know who I am; that's okay.
I think what I'm trying to say is, I think maybe God saved that little one in part for my sake. Seen in black and white that looks awful, cold, and selfish. The baby is alive because God has some plan for his life that I do not and cannot know. But maybe--
Maybe God answers our prayers to give us something of His to hold onto.
And that's what I was thinking about. And it makes me trust Him more.
(Refer to the title of this post.)
3 comments:
God is rad.
One of the ways we overcome Satan is by the word of our testimony (see Revelation 12:11). So it's not at all a stupid reason.
!!!!!!!!!!!
how is it that you often write exactly what I'm feeling? perhaps this is why i love reading what you write.
if i had written out how I felt about this, (which i wouldn't, because i wouldn't know how to begin to put it into words, for one, and if i did know how i don't know that i could be that honest, for two) well, let's just say this is a pretty accurate account of how i felt as well. i know it's kind of lame to be all like "oh, i KNOW. i feel exactly the same way." but, well...
this came at a time when my faith was admittedly running pretty low. so i liked that next-to-last paragraph. God knew. and this gave my faith a little kick in the rear end. Like, "hey, i'm still God. and I still heal. take THAT."
haha. i'm so glad i have you to write out my feelings for me so clearly so i can just read them and understand myself better.
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