We pray for healing.
We pray for a miracle.
We pray for something big.
We pray for a few more days.
Please, God. Please.
We pray to the God who heals all our diseases, the One who promises to work things together for our good.
I'm beginning to think differently about this. There's a paradigm shift happening in my mind.
He can say yes. He can heal. But any healing we find here is really only temporary anyway. We're all going to die. Nobody gets out of here alive.
Sorry. That was morbid. But it's true.
God didn't say yes to me. He heard the screams from my bedroom, but he didn't answer as I begged him to.
He didn't say yes to my dear friends who said goodbye to their little girl last night. We learned last fall that Lily was on the way, and Robb was one of the most delighted in our circle of joy. But Lily was born with a broken brain, and she only visited us for 54 days. A little messenger, she was. In heaven now, with Jesus, with Robb, full and whole. Every ounce of her.
God didn't say yes the way we asked him to. He is showing up differently.
He promises new life; we think it will happen here.
He promises healing; we think it will happen here.
He promises everything will work together for our good; we think it will happen here.
Maybe it will. Sometimes it does.
Sometimes it doesn't.
Robb has new life, he is delivered from every illness (and insecurity and wish), and all things have indeed worked together for his good.
We ask God to do something big. But the truth is, he already has.
And is there greater glory in our pain free life, or in his people knowing and trusting him in the shadowed valley?
We pray for healing, but I wonder if we really know what we're asking for.
Perhaps we should pray for the courage and strength of those of us who remain,