I've believed in God for my entire life, well as long as I can remember. And to be honest, I don't even really remember the exact moment I became a follower of Christ. I would define my walk with God more as a constant journey with some seasons of growth, passion, and an eagerness to learn; and some of rebellion, complacency, and boredom. But through it all, I would say that I've always had faith in God. Faith that He existed. Faith that He cared about me. Faith that good would prevail in the end. And faith that He heard and answered the prayers of His people.
I must admit, however, that in my 25 years of life things have gone pretty well for me. And to be honest, it's pretty easy to have faith in God when you feel like everything is going your way. But what happens when it doesn't? What happens when life crumbles in around you? Will your faith shatter along with everything else?
It is with these questions that I find myself extremely convicted. Because this past year, my faith has been rocked. I can't even begin to describe the disappointments and heart aches this year has brought. My poor husband has lost his job twice due to budget cuts, leaving us not only financially vulnerable...but emotionally vulnerable as well. It has been one of the hardest things to watch him slowly lose his passion, vision, and confidence in his calling towards ministry as time goes on. It's where he belongs. It's where his gifts lie. And it has been difficult on us all for him not to be in that place. In this season where my husband has tried to find work, we have also dealt with the news and repercussions of our son being born with Spina Bifida. And that, has truly been a test of faith for me.
I must be honest; as I sat by my little boy's bedside day after day, week after week, and month after month in the NICU...I got to some pretty dark places. I would sit there helplessly as my son endured multiple surgeries and a huge e-coli infection. I watched him lay flat on his stomach for two months. I sat with him as he had breathing tubes and anesthesia racing through his veins. I watched my poor boy being poked and prodded, being stitched up and cut open again. I sat and wondered if he would ever make it out of the NICU walls. I would have given anything to help him. Anything to get him out of there. I felt powerless. And so I would pray to God that He would help my son. Because it was beyond my control, but I knew it wasn't beyond His. And as each day passed and things seemed to get worse and worse, I became angry. Because I wasn't seeing any results. Nothing was changing. My son was still hurting. He was still in pain. He was not healed.
I began to wonder. How could God have the power to help my son and choose not to? It could all be over in a blink of an eye. My son could be completely healed. How could Hudson's Father stand by and let this happen? Let his precious son hurt and not do everything in his power to stop it. He supposedly loves him more than I ever could. I was powerless. But He wasn't. And still he did nothing.
This kind of faith, the kind that only believes God is in control and that he loves us when everything is going well...this is no faith at all. The true test comes when things don't go our way. Will we still believe God loves us more than we could possibly imagine when we don't see the results we desire?
Being a mom has truly opened my eyes to this question and has helped me connect to God in a way I didn't understand before I brought my son home. Because there have been times when I sit in my room listening to Hudson cry and I don't go in to get him. I know that if I were to go into his room and pick him up, he would stop crying. But I also know that if I picked him up, he wouldn't sleep. I know he is tired, and so what's best for him is to fall asleep. I see a bigger picture than he can see in that moment. I see my boy learning to fall asleep on his own when he is tired. I see his smiling face in the morning when he has gotten a full night's rest. And so I sit, outside of his door, with tears in my eyes as he cries himself to sleep. Do I want to go in and 'save' him? You bet. My heart aches as I sit and sob along with him. Because I know I could temporarily fix his problem. But I also know that in the long run, it's not what is best. And so I sit, and do nothing but cry alongside my baby boy.
This is how I see God now. I see him sobbing uncontrollably along with me when my son goes into surgery. I see him fight the urge to jump in and fix everything. I see him struggle to watch his precious children go through such turmoil on earth. I see his heart ache when we feel pain. But I see his love shine through when he chooses to do what's best in the long run. When he refuses to be a genie that grants us every wish we bring to him, and waits patiently for us to see him as our loving Father. A Father who mourns when we mourn, who jumps for joy when we rejoice, and who loves us so much that we can never fully comprehend it. A Father that always has our best interest in mind, and sees so much clearer and further than we do. Now that's a God worth following.
And so, whether good times or bad, whether I see results or I don't...I will bow my knee to my Father and never cease sharing the truth of his love and sacrifice. Because every good and perfect gift comes from Him.
And none of the hard stuff changes any of that. God is still God, and He is always worth praising.
I am thankful for my husband, who reminded me of this truth. You are an inspiration.
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