It’s hard, being back at the hospital, though I’m not the one in the bed this time.
It’s hard, watching her lie there, not the same person from two weeks let alone a few months ago.
It’s hard, coaxing her to do the things she’d previously done independently, navigating things she shouldn’t now.
“Do you think God is punishing me” she shakily whispers–eyes closed, hand cupping her pale furled forehead. My heart breaks for her as I say, “No Mama. He is a good father, a loving, benevolent God. You have done nothing wrong. Your body is just fighting you.”
We’ve all been there. Why is this happening? What did I do? How can He let me suffer like this? I call her pastor on speaker, who also rebukes her misaligned thought.
Some might think this desperate plea is a lack of faith–I reject this as well. Whereas the words may indicate some sort of malice on God’s part, I believe this is an invitation for Him to draw nearer. The realization of our human helplessness. Our parched souls crying out for His super natural intervention when the well is empty.
‘Turn your ear to me,
Psalm 31:2, 9 NIV
come quickly to my rescue;
be my rock of refuge,
a strong fortress to save me.
Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am in distress;
my eyes grow weak with sorrow,
my soul and body with grief.”
When we are at the point of utter despair, we have maxed out our limit. Our last fingerhold no longer able to bear the weight of the situation. We grasp for something, anything, to rescue us. Alas, we are impatient creatures. Our need for immediacy eclipses all.
I have experienced this in my own journey–more times than I care to admit. It feels like a chasm separates me from Him as I fall further and further into the void. Where are you Lord? Why have you forsaken me? Again, not a condemnation, rather a line cast out into the universe.
And He answers. Every. Single. Time. It may not be in the manner or as expeditiously as we’d like; however, He is there. Waiting to catch you as you release your will and fall into His arms, which have been there the whole time. When it happens, it likely won’t be a cinema-inspired scene, inspirational musical swelling as sunlight floods through the parting clouds. We live IRL.
I started typing hours ago, in between the barrage of “normal” hospital interruptions, and here are the “cliff notes.” There was a push to prematurely discharge her (thankfully not in a life or death situation), but that might bring into context the “is God punishing me” since we truly weren’t outta the woods yet. In come her nurse, case manager, PT–in rapid fire succession, all supporting the decision not to ship her out. We work together, and lo and behold, there’s a “miraculous” shift in the right direction. God is so faithful!
There are many reasons to love Psalm 31. But while reading chapter 2 for the above pulled reference, verse 5 struck me.
“Into your hands I commit my spirit;
Psalm 31:5
deliver me, Lord, my faithful God.”
The words tickled my brain. I’ve heard this before in a different context. I go searching…here’s what I found. Jesus, before His last breath on the cross, said a variation of this as well (Luke 23:46). God incarnate, who was in a life or death situation, after also asking why have you forsaken me, let go and fell into His awaiting arms. He was human. He questioned. Then He committed His spirit unto the Lord. If this doesn’t show us how questioning isn’t a lack of faith, I’m not sure what does.
God is omnipresent, never leaves us, regardless of how many times we may feel separate from Him.
So in my REA/L moment with you today, I’m going to ask you to do something uncomfortable. Let go.
Let go of circumstances that seem out of your control.
Let go of what was so you can receive and rejoice in what is.
Let go of your immediacy expectations and rest in the assurance of His perfect timing.
He’s patiently waiting for you. The process is painful, for you both. Let go, my friend, and let Him.
In Jesus’ name, Amen
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