July 22

Unanswered?

 

As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. ––Isaiah 55:9

 

Chrissie and I have friends who found out at five months into the wife’s pregnancy that barring a miracle, the baby would die in the womb. The condition was a genetic chromosomal defect called trisomy 13. To the surprise of the medical staff, our friends opted not to terminate the pregnancy. “We know you’re religious,” the doctor said, “but it’s not an abortion if the baby is going to die anyway.” Our friends are Christian—not really “religious”—and actually took some heat from the doctor and his team for their decision not to abort. And to clarify, at no time was the wife’s health in danger. 

 

For the next four months we all prayed. It was an intense time. My friend’s wife—let’s call her June—would have strangers approach her all the time asking when she was due, patting her tummy (a very strange social practice if you think about it), while she just smiled and went on her way. Little did they know.

 

My buddy was really struggling—and he’s a strong man of God who’s been a Christian since he was a kid. When I asked him if he had hope for a miracle, he hesitated. After a long moment he said, “I have faith. But hope is too expensive of a commodity for me to afford.”

 

Honest and raw. In impossible times—seasons where there seemingly is no hope short of a miracle—we start with honesty. (God already knows what we are thinking and feeling anyway.) If we are angry, we tell Him. If we are sad, the same. We must smash the religious myth that says it’s wrong or “lacking faith” to be raw and real with God. Expression is not blame. When you have a terrible day and share it with your spouse or a close friend, you’re not blaming them, right? Same with God. 

 

The miracle in my friend’s story is that their son, Joseph, was born one month early and defied all the doctors by living for three days. Two NICU nurses accepted Jesus at Joseph’s funeral. Sometimes the prayers that go unanswered for us are answered prayers for others. I’m not saying God “took Joseph” so those two nurses could accept Christ. (We won’t know the answer to that question this side of heaven.) I’m saying that the way in which God uses tragedy—losses that grieve His heart as they do ours—sometimes (oftentimes) play out in surprising ways. Even when our prayer isn’t answered, God answers—and when He answers for someone else, He may also be answering for us. 

 

Father, even when my prayer isn’t answered the way I desire, let me know that You are still at work in mighty ways.