Ever suffered loss?
What kind of question is that, really?
If you’ve lived on this earth for any decent amount of time the answer is clearly “yes”.
Maybe, the better question to ask is this…What can be learned from loss?
I ask this because of a conversation I had a few weeks back, with a friend who was questioning an act she felt led by God to do. This friend felt led to go and pray over someone who was struggling with major health issues. She felt certain the prayer was going to bring with it healing.
But nothing changed. No healing came.
Why would God tell her to pray over this person for healing, give her such a seemingly clear sense that this person would be healed, and then…nothing?
Why?
Why would God give someone such a clear feeling that there would be healing, but not bring it?
As my friend was processing this, I mentioned that God does not heal on our time, but on His time. That brought up another question; a big one. “Jesus could heal immediately when He was a human, like us. Why would God not do the same through us that He did through Jesus?”
We’ve probably all been around someone in our churches and lives who was blessed with the gift of healing prayer. I can think of a few people in my own life. I’ve seen firsthand that God can and does heal immediately at times.
I felt palpable heat emanating from the hand of a young woman as she prayed over nerve damage in my shoulder and arm. Within moments, the pins and needles, and numbness, which had plagued me for months were gone. By the next morning, I had full range of motion again. The damage was undone. My shoulder was healed.
So, back to that big question. If Jesus, as a human could heal immediately, why can’t we? If God tells us to pray healing over someone, shouldn’t that healing come immediately?
You have to go back to the statement, “God heals on His time.” Jesus was fully man, but also fully God. Jesus was healing on His time; God’s time. Our caring, hurting, loving, human hearts want the healing to come. We want a miracle that shakes the very foundations of our unbelieving society. Or we just want that person to be around a while longer.
But we live in a fallen world. People get sick. They suffer. And often times, they pass away. We see only the suffering, the sickness, and the passing. We can’t comprehend what God is doing where our eyes can’t see. So, when the prayers are “unanswered” we become angry and bitter toward God. Or we simply become confused. Either way, these sorts of events often bring with them a crisis of faith.
Back to my previous question, “What can be learned from loss?”
If you’re reading this, you probably know me and know enough of my story to know that I lost my mom 6 years ago as of December 21. Five months later, I lost my grandmother; my Mema.
In both cases, I had prayer warriors from all over praying for them. Praying for their healing…Praying for earthly healing.
The night of my mom’s passing the Nurse practitioner sat our family down and had the conversation I would not wish for anyone to have to initiate. Mom was at the 15 day mark of being on the ventilator. For health reasons, hospitals don’t usually keep someone on a ventilator longer than 15 days. So, we were faced with a decision.
I was faced with a decision.
I was faced with the most difficult decision of my life. They could leave my mom on the ventilator overnight and give family time to get in and come see her at the hospital. But the likelihood of her surviving the night was very small. They explained that if she did pass while on the ventilator, it could be very painful for her.
But I couldn’t do it. I refused to let go. I had to believe God was still going to heal her.
So, we left the hospital and drove home. As I sat silently in the back seat of my aunt and uncle’s SUV, I felt the most calm I had ever felt to that point in my life. In the moment where I should have been beside myself, I felt a calm I cannot describe.
I prayed to God.
Actually, I talked with God.
In that moment, I felt a sense of clarity and peace I’d never felt before. He told me He was healing her. But not for a fleeting moment in her earthly life. He was bringing her home. All that she faced on the other side of the surgery to remove the cancer that had ravaged her body was more pain and suffering. He did not want that for her. He was bringing that to an end.
I opened my eyes and calmly told my uncle to call the hospital and tell them to remove the ventilator. This took some time because of procedures to be followed. and it was not removed until around 3 AM. Within minutes, she was gone. We found out the next morning. We all slept peacefully through the night. A night that should have been sleepless and full of indescribable hurt was the best night of sleep I’d had since she went into the hospital a month earlier. Why? Because That was God’s gift to us in that time. That night, God’s promise to us in Philippians 4:6-7 was proven true. I gave my mom over to Him, and He returned that by giving us a peace that surpassed understanding.
With my Mema, I watched her see her purpose for surviving leave. She knew that I was able to stand on my own. With mom gone, who would she look after? Who would she fight to stay alive for?
Almost every day for 5 months She would call me after work and say things like “I haven’t heard from Celinda in a few days. I hope she’s alright.” Every time this happened, I was faced with breaking hers and my heart again in reminding her that mom; her daughter was gone.
The day came when my aunt (Mema’s sister) called me to tell me I needed to come home. I knew my Mema, who had been a huge part of raising me from 6 months old was also leaving me too.
I remember arriving at the hospital and walking to the ICU with my aunt. The nurses let us know the decision needed to be made whether or not to take my Mema off of life support. We decided to do so the next day, with the family present in the room with her. I walked out of the hospital that day in a state of shocked calm. I parted ways with my aunt and got into my car.
What came next was the shock wearing off and the calm being washed away by a tidal wave of anger. I proceeded to go on a 15 minute, profanity laden tirade directed at God. I screamed words at Him I won’t mention here. I pleaded with Him. “Please! Just one more year. Not this soon after mom. She’s all I have left!”
At the end of that tirade, I was not met by an angry, vengeful God. Rather, I felt as if a hand was lovingly placed on my shoulder. I did not receive a scolding.
Instead, I was met with “Now that you’ve got that out of your system, know that I’m with her and you. I’ve got her. All those days of reminding her of her loss; of your loss. Those days are done. Her pain and heartache over that are gone. And yours will be too. I love her. I love you. I’m bringing her home. But I’m not leaving you alone in this life. I’ve got her and you in my hands.”
Why tell you all this?
Why was I so calm? So…at peace?
Because I know firsthand how difficult this time of year can be for those who have lost or are facing the possibility of the loss of a loved one looming in a time when there should be joy and happiness, not melancholy and pain.
It’s so easy to look at loss as unanswered prayers, and to blame God.
What I hope you take from my story is this. When we suffer loss. When we don’t see an answer to our prayers. We are seeing only through the lens our finite minds can comprehend. My hope is that if you are struggling during this time you will take a step back and talk to God. Not just pray to Him but have real, candid conversation with Him. And yes, that means even if the conversation is filled with anger and profanity at Him. I’m not saying that’s the right path, but I do believe He wants us to come to Him in complete honesty. After all, He already knows what’s on our hearts in those moments. He can take it.
But don’t just come with anger. Ask humbly that He will open your eyes to see beyond the realm we comprehend. You never know. He might just show you a peace you never thought possible in the wake of your hurt. he might just show you that Joy and pain are not mutually exclusive. Rather, they can be mutually inclusive.
My ask from this is that if the hurt is too much to bear alone, you will reach out. Reach out first to the ultimate; God. But know too that He has given us the rest of the body to be the penultimate. Reach out to those around you, and let them hold you up when you don’t have the strength.
I’m here. Others are here. Don’t face loss and hurt alone. Come with all the stages of grief before you. Come knowing that however you show up, you are loved and accepted just as you are.
If you’d like prayer, please feel free to leave a comment. You can share as much or little as you are comfortable sharing. God knows your struggle all we need to know is to pray.
The Random Musings of a Nerdy Christ Follower 