The air is warm, the tiny lights strung around the deck provide just enough light to see, being September 1st, the mosquitos have pretty much given up.If I were taken to imbibing, a glass of wine would be sitting on the table beside me. It's too late for coffee, so lemon water will have to do. In short, it's a beautiful evening here in this corner of Paradise, made all the more beautiful in the knowledge that our granddaughter is safely home tonight. She was diagnosed with something similar to mono, the actual name of which I couldn't pronounce even if I could remember it. She will always have it dormant in her body and just needs to make sure she doesn't let herself get run down so her immunity becomes compromised. Tonight we breathe a big sigh of relief!
People close to me have wondered why I've been so worried about Alex. After all, I've been the one who for over 40 years preached faith and trust in God and in his ability and willingness to heal. Why has her situation rattled me so? I guess now that she is home and has a diagnosis, I can reveal what's been roiling around inside me for the past week. I wrote it down August 25th. Here's what I was thinking:
"Sunday morning, I watched Alex from the sound booth as she walked out of the service momentarily. As she passed by, I immediately had a feeling of dread, that she is not long for this world. The thought shocked me as the words of missionary Henry Martyn came to mind--"Let me burn out for God!"--which he did at the young age of 31. I cannot say whether this thought and feeling was a word from the Lord (which I fear), a premonition, or merely my worries made manifest. But last night as she lay on the hospital gurney, smiling in spite of her pain, this terrible thought returned. As her sisters, Linda, and myself tearfully prayed for her that evening, I couldn't get that thought out of my mind. Linda asked me what was wrong, and I cannot tell her. She worries enough. But it remains, silently haunting me.
Monday night in men's group we studied the Lord's Prayer. So often I pray it almost glibly, but what am I to do with that phrase, "thy will be done," when I want my will concerning Alex? If God wills to take her from us, I'm not sure I can honestly pray this prayer, though it could turn out that I have no choice. If this is a word from God, or a premonition, it is also my hope and prayer that like Scrooge's dream of the ghost of Christmas Future, it is a warning of what might be rather than what inevitably shall be."
I'm not normally one who operates primarily out of my feelings, so when I felt this come over me so forcefully, I didn't know what to do with it. I never received any sort of divine confirmation that she would be all right, and finally had to just leave the whole matter in God's hands--not an easy thing for me to do. The fact of the matter is, I still have no word from the Lord that Alex, or for that matter, any of my family will not experience tragedy. God promises not that we will not walk through the valley of the shadow of death, but rather that we will not walk it alone. The question is whether I will be content with God beside me if he refuses to answer my prayers the way I would like. That's a hard test, and the only way we can be sure we would pass it is by taking that test, which we are usually loathe to do. In the meantime, it is ours to strengthen ourselves in the Lord.
Just this morning I read a text that struck me in a new way, probably because of the new translation in which it appeared. It's Isaiah 29:19 and reads, "The meek shall obtain fresh joy in the LORD." We often equate meekness with weakness, but the word really means 'to have a teachable spirit.' Fresh joy is what we need, not the old stale joy of last week or last year. But it only comes to those willing to be taught by the Holy Spirit through God's Word and God's leading. I've usually been willing to be taught by the Word; following in the footsteps of Jesus when they lead to a cross upon which I am called to die is a whole 'nother matter. I'm walking, sometimes trudging, but I keep putting one foot in front of the other, occasionally taking a few sidesteps, often being dragged by the relentless will of God. Sometimes I stubbornly sit down or even turn back. But tonight, I'm stepping out again, grateful that God doesn't lambaste me for my recalcitrance, but instead embraces me in his grace.
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