So when I picked up, yes, I expected a weary voice, but
this—this was different. Worn, ragged,
worried. There was a desperation within
her that broke my heart.
“Daddy’s not doing so good,” she managed to squeak, and
as she passed the phone to my father I knew not what to expect.
With his heart having beat a million beats per minute for
more than twelve hours, it was as if he was on the tail-end of an absurd
marathon. He spoke, but his murmurs
couldn’t even form words. When Mom took
the phone back, I was a wreck.
Not only could he not eat before the procedure, leaving
him weaker still, but Mom also revealed that there was a chance that even the
procedure may not be able to slow his racing heart—that it stood the chance of
failing. And the possibility of a
worthless procedure did nothing to quell my father’s fears.
I told her I was praying, and we hung up, her promising
to keep me updated. After I tried
pulling myself together, I opened my Facebook and Twitter apps in an attempt to
reach out to as many people as possible with as little energy as possible. After all, I had none left. My fighter’s spirit was present, but my
energy had long been spent.
Desperation.
It seems to be God’s favorite tool.
But not because He’s an evil, condemning God, but because
He loves us and wants to see us prosper.
And a way to prosper is to be forced into places and situations and
feelings. To be forced to react in a way
aligned with His will.
Desperation causes a meek girl to set aside her pride and
call out to the world for prayer.
Desperation causes two people who do not believe in God to not only receive prayer, but request it.
Desperation causes two people who do not believe in God to not only receive prayer, but request it.
God has used desperation in my life as a key, unlocking
so many doors. The door leading to an
opportunity to minister. A doorway to
trusting Him, no matter what. Doors to
being faithful and experiencing His faithfulness. Doors to build bonds of community and
brotherly love.
And yesterday, after only hours on waiting on God, He
answered.
“One-eighty.”
That was the term the cardiologist used to describe the
rhyhm of Dad's heartbeat. It had done a
complete turnaround. The medical staff
had changed nothing within the last few hours.
Not the medicines, or dosages, even the procedure had not been done—and now
it wouldn’t have to be.
I ran up and down the ball halls at work when I heard the
news. Baby, if you’ve never seen a white
girl shout, yesterday was the day.
God will take you through some things to teach you some
things. You learn how much you trust Him
and how far you’re willing to follow Him, to what degree you sacrifice
yourself.
After receiving the news that he would be returning home
after an abrupt, spontaneous healing, I came home from work, collapsing on my
bed from overwhelming relief and gratitude.
I have never had more reason to praise God. Not even when He saved me did I rejoice as
much as I did last night.
It was fitting then to spend the rest of the night in the
large halls of Bellevue, being led in worship by Hillsong Live. I’m pretty sure that if those awesome Aussies
can’t get you to sing, no one can.
Singing at the top of my lungs, waving my hands high,
fingers outstretched, the rhythm pulsing through my body, the echo of a
thousand people worshipping, I had never felt God’s glory stretched so widely.
God orchestrates everything in amazing ways. And I never case to be astounded by His love
and compassion for His children. To take
my family through this, to challenge me, and at the end of the hardest day
giving me a way to celebrate and feel close to Him.
Even when times are rough, God is good. Even when it hurts, God is good. And when it’s good, it’s God and only God.
We have this hope as an anchor for the soul,
firm and secure... Hebrews 6:19
