Day Four

This one is tough. When our loved ones are suffering or dying, we naturally pray for a miracle. But it’s hard to understand why some people get the miracle when others don’t. Why did one person’s cancer completely disappear when the next person died? Was my prayer inadequate or defective in some way? It challenges our faith to accept God’s will, even when it is not what we want. This actually brings us to the very heart of prayer. If we treat prayer like a genie in a bottle, it will often appear that prayer doesn’t “work” because we pray for specific outcomes we may not get. But when our prayer becomes a way of seeking the heart of God, above and beyond our own, with a willingness to accept his true will, whatever that may be, with trust that he always knows best, then prayer always “works.” This brings the greatest peace because we never have to question if we somehow got the “secret prayer formula” wrong.

The title of this story is: “Blah, blah, blah, whatever. Amen.”

It was 6:54 on a Friday morning, and this is what I texted to our Blue Monarch leadership team: “I’m going to the hospital to reclaim what is rightfully ours. Please pray.” (I was reminded that whenever I feel compelled to do something I don’t really want to do, it’s usually the Holy Spirit leading me.)

The night before, we had heard the devastating news that Tara, one of our Blue Monarch graduates, had been found unresponsive in her bedroom at her parents' house and had been unconscious ever since. They had no idea what had happened to her, but there was concern she had gone way too long without oxygen, and she was in the intensive care unit at a hospital two and a half hours away. I wasn’t anxious to see Tara in this condition, but I felt God was telling me to get dressed and head that way.

Just the week before, we had seen horrific photographs of Tara's car, which was destroyed after a drug-related accident. It was a miracle that she and her son were not killed or at least severely injured. Would this be the wakeup call Tara needed?

I listened to praise and worship music on the long drive to the hospital and prayed out loud that God would give us a beautiful miracle that day. He could – and he would.

It was a shock to see Tara lying in the bed, hooked to what seemed like a hundred wires and tubes. She still had a black eye from the earlier car accident, which made that event more real. With tears streaming from my eyes, I put one hand on Tara’s forehead, the other on her shoulder, and prayed my heart out for supernatural healing for her body. I fully expected to see her eyes open any moment. He could – and he would.

As the day wore on, we all experienced waves of fond memories between tsunamis of grief as we took turns holding Tara’s hands. Her sweet mother uncovered Tara’s foot to show me her middle toe that was shorter than the others, something they teased her about through the years. Tara had just gotten a pedicure a couple of days before, which seemed like a good sign that she did not have plans to harm herself – a fleeting thought we often have in situations like this when there is still so much that we don’t yet know or understand.

I watched Tara’s mother gently stroke her foot, which I imagined she probably did when her daughter was a newborn, as so many mothers do. While I looked at Tara’s foot, my mind went back to some of our last conversations. “Tara, you cannot have one foot in your old life and the other in your new life. It will never work! It never does!” I gave her examples of ones who had tried to do the same, and none of those stories turned out well. In fact, one of my examples died shortly after Tara left Blue Monarch.

Truth is, it isn’t exactly an equal tug of war. The Old Life won’t settle for just a foot. It will pull and pull until it gobbles up the entire body. On the other side is Jesus, gently holding out his hand. Because he graciously gives us free will, he doesn’t force us to take his hand. He extends his hand until we grab hold of it, and then he will pull the rest of us out of the darkness. At that point, the Old Life doesn’t stand a chance.

Tara began to take on some of the physical characteristics I recalled from the day my father died, and it didn’t look hopeful, but we continued to pray. He could – but it didn’t look like he was going to. As this reality began to settle in, I gradually developed anger on top of my grief.

Through the curtain, I could see the doctor making his way down the hallway to report the final test results, and the expression on his face made words unnecessary. Knowing what was coming felt like that brief second before the roller coaster drops a hundred feet headfirst.

The raw grief of a mother and the tears of a father pierced my heart. I wanted to grab their pain and run out the door so they couldn’t feel it any longer. My own tears were a mixture of overwhelming grief and profound bitterness. Why did God let this happen?! I was so angry.

I drove the whole way home in a silent car. Even music was unbearable. That night when I went to bed, I surprised myself by saying out loud, “Blah, blah, blah, whatever. Amen.” There. Goodnight. What’s the point?

The next day, I tried to process the loss of a mother who learned to love her son while at Blue Monarch. I remembered the time when he ran in from daycare, calling her “Mommy” for the first time, and how she cried. And that’s when I began to hear Jesus speak to me.

He reminded me that the police found no drugs when they searched Tara’s room, and the hospital reported a clean drug screen. I recalled her mother proudly describing how Tara took someone to church the Sunday after her accident and how excited she was to share her faith with a friend. Maybe that car accident was a wake-up call after all.

That’s when I realized I was on the wrong mission all along. I thought I was going to the hospital to reclaim what was rightfully ours. But the truth is, she did not belong to us. She never did. She didn’t even belong to her sweet mother and father. She belonged to Jesus – and after her “Old Life” came close to taking her completely, Jesus reclaimed what was rightfully his, and now she was safely with him, full of joy and totally healed.

So, how can we best honor Tara today? I think we share with everyone we can what she would probably say if she could. With those beautiful dark eyes and those perfectly shaped brows, I believe she would say in her soft voice, “Take Jesus’ hand and grab on with all you’ve got. Keep BOTH feet firmly planted in his direction – because ALL of you belongs to him. And don’t ever forget that.”

Thankfully, Tara had time to teach this truth to her little boy, which will impact him the rest of his life – so in many ways, I guess you could say, “God could – and he did.”

Let's pray: Lord, help me to always desire your will over my own. Amen

Personal challenges and reflection:

• Do you feel your prayer can truly make a difference in a crisis situation? Do you pray with confidence that it will? Or do you pray with reservation that it won’t?
• Are you willing to completely surrender your will to God’s will? Is this comforting or stressful for you?
• Even Jesus cried out to God for an answered prayer, but immediately followed his request with submission to God’s will, as illustrated in Matthew 26:39: "Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, 'My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will'". (NIV) What do you think Jesus felt in that moment?
• Have you ever found yourself frustrated with God for not answering your prayer in the way you would like or in the timeframe you want? How does that affect your relationship with him?