Today I spent time in the surgical recovery area of a hospital. My husband had to undergo surgery, and I had the extremely unpleasant job of watching him wake up from anesthesia in horrific pain, out of his mind from the medicine, and basically in the worst state that I have seen him in 19 years of knowing the man. Not only that, but all around us were the sounds of agony, punctuated by the sobbing of a woman to our left and the dry heaving of a man in another part of recovery. It was frightening and miserable, and I’m so very glad that it’s over.
As Chad lay there in excruciating pain, in a condition that would probably cause many to yell or cuss or ask why me?, Chad quietly prayed, crying out to Jesus, IV-ed arms lifted in a posture of worship. He seemed completely unaware that I was there, witnessing his great display of humility, watching the man that I love more than life cry out to the God that I love more than life.
When I brought him home hours later, I couldn’t get that image out of my mind: strong man, brought to his knees by life, glorifying God as his only source of help and hope. It stays with me still, the sounds of his whispered prayers in the middle of a miserable place, Jesus invited into a dark hour.
Then this afternoon the news broke that there is a case of Ebola in the US. In Dallas, no less, right here in our own state. And, the fear started coursing across the internet. The chatter about the scary possibilities. And I’m certainly no braver than the next girl. I want to put my little family in a protective bubble and shoo away all of the bad and the scary in the world. I want to steer us toward the sunshiny spots of life and avoid all of those dark hours that lie ahead.
But, I can’t do that. I couldn’t even do that today for Chad as he lay writhing in pain on a cold hospital bed. Yet, today when I watched this man that I know so well reverting to a default posture of prayer and humility when he could’ve yelled or sobbed or refused to acknowledge a God who had let him land in this spot, I realized something. I may not be able to avoid the dark hours. But, I can invite Jesus into them. I can acknowledge His presence and His care. I can trust His power and believe in His goodness, even when good seems such a long way off.
Because when we bring Jesus into the dark, He shines. He carries. He always loves our worship, but worship in the dark must be especially beautiful to a God in whom there is no darkness. When we are at our weakest, when worship is whispered into the sterile air of a hospital room, when worship is honest and pure and borne of a desperation that only humanity can truly know and experience, when worship is all we have in this world to offer Him, it must sound so sweet to the holy ear of the Sovereign God.
So, when the threats arise, when the fear bubbles up inside, when the pain is too great, when all we have left is to raise weak hands in worship and cry out to the God of the universe, He is near. And, we can trust His power to make all things right in the end, even when things seem all wrong in the dark hours.
I’ll not soon forget the sight of my best friend, my pastor, praising God through the pain. God showed Himself today. And, He reminded me that when the dark encroaches on the sunshiny parts of life, the best response is always humility, worship, and trust.
What an encouragement! Praise God that everything went well with your husband’s surgery! Praying for you both!
Thanks so much, blackbirdspaces!
2nd Corinthians 1:8-For we do not want you to be unaware, brethren, of our affliction which came to us in Asia, that we were burdened excessively, beyond our strength, so that we despaired even of life; 9-indeed, we had the sentence of death within ourselves so that we would not trust in ourselves, but in God who raises the dead; 10-who delivered us from so great a peril of death, and will deliver us, He on whom we have set our hope. And He will yet deliver us, 11-you also joining in helping us through your prayers, so that thanks may be given by many persons on our behalf for the favor bestowed on us through the prayers of many.
May our great and glorious God, by whose hand and in whose image we are fearfully and wonderfully made, show Himself merciful and mighty indeed as He brings true victory through this extremely difficult providence Melissa. 🙁
Thank you, Greg!
This touched my heart deeply. Thank you for opening your life so that we can be encouraged to turn to Jesus with the worship He is due. So many things in this world can knock us down. How beautifully you have reminded me this morning, that only Jesus should bring me to my knees. May God bless you for your ministry to us <3
Thank you so much for this, Laura!
Thank you Melissa. That is a beautiful testimony. And a reminder to all of us of where our only true hope lies in the rough parts of our lives
Thank you, Cheryl!
I pray chad recovers completely. thank you for the post–it reminded me that in our weakness he is strong.
Thanks so much, Jamie!
I think of my mom, and grandmother, and the hard times they went through. Sometimes they faced these times with sadness, even anger. But they never turned away from God, and never ceased to put their trust in Him.
At my grandmother’s funeral, my uncle read the following, which first of all I hope fits into this comment section, but more importantly, I hope you and other moms who read this blog find encouraging and challenging. It is called “A Little Parable For Mothers”:
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The young mother set her foot on the path of life. “Is the way long?” she asked. And her guide said, “Yes, and the way is hard. And you will be old before you reach the end of it. But the end will be better than the beginning.”
But the young mother was happy and she would not believe that anything could be better than these years. So she played with her children and gathered flowers for them along the way and bathed with them in the clear streams; and the sun shone on them and life was good, and the young mother cried, “Nothing will ever be lovelier than this.”
Then night came, and storm, and the path was dark and the children shook with fear and cold, and the mother drew them close and covered them with her mantle and the children said, “Oh, Mother, we are not afraid, for you are near, and no harm can come,” and the mother said, “This is better than the brightness of day for I have taught my children courage.”
And the morning came, and there was a hill ahead, the children climbed and grew weary, and the mother was weary, but at all times she said to the children, “A little patience and we are there.” So the children climbed and when they reached the top, they said, “We could not have done it without you, Mother.” And the mother, when she lay down that night, looked up at the stars and said, “This is a better day than the last, for my children have learned fortitude in the face of hardness. Yesterday I gave them courage, today I have given them strength.”
And the next day came strange clouds which darkened the earth – clouds of war and hate and evil – and the children groped and stumbled and the mother said, “Look up. Lift your eyes to the light.” And the children looked and saw above the clouds an Everlasting Glory, and it guided them and brought them beyond the darkness. And that night the mother said, “This is the best day of all, for I have shown my children God.”
And the days went on, and the weeks and the months and the years and the mother grew old, and she was little and bent. But her children were tall and strong and walked with courage. And when the way was rough they lifted her, for she was as light as a feather; and at last they came to a hill, and beyond the hill they could see a shining road and Golden Gates flung wide. And the mother said, I have reached the end of my journey. And now I know that the end is better than the beginning, for my children can walk along, and their children after them.” And the children said, “You will always walk with us, Mother, even when you have gone through the gates.” And they stood and watched her as she went off alone, and the gates closed after her. And they said, “We cannot see her, but she is with us still. A mother like ours is more than a memory. She is a Living Presence.”
–from A Little Parable For Mothers, Temple Bailey, Westwood, N.J., Fleming H. Revell Company, 1936.
Thank you!