This is an old digital journal entry I came across tonight. It was something I wrote this past summer while I was unable to connect to the internet. My goal was to get it posted when I got home. I forgot. Normally I would have just let it fall as a missed moment, but tonight I feel pressed to post it anyway.
Here goes...
Last night, I prayed. It was a desperate prayer full of wrestling with God. I was praying for a miracle. To be specific, a miracle of MY choice. The wrestling came within myself as my words, insisting on healing, and the words of Isaiah 55:9 fought to drown each other out.
Father, heal him!
(As the heavens are high above the earth...)
LORD, you are good and faithful... Heal him!
(so are my ways higher than your ways...)
God Almighty, to you all things are possible! Nothing is impossible! Breathe your life into him! Wrap him with your protection! Heal him, Father! Heal him!
(so are my thoughts higher than yours.)
And so it went... Until the question, “Are not my ways better?”
A more rhetorical question there never has been to my knowledge.
It exposed the truth behind my quarrelsome stance:
But God, Your will sometimes hurts...
I’ve felt it in the past.
I prayed “Your will be done,” and my nephew passed away...
I prayed “Your will be done,” and my husband lost his job...
I prayed, “Your will be done,” and my friend’s marriage still ended...
Granted, I have seen the increase in fruit with each of these tragic events but oh, how I hate the valley!
My prayer turned honest and vulnerable. I began spilling my fears and anxiety; all that hurt and pain from circumstances past.
“God, I trust You know better than me. I trust Your plans are to prosper your children, not harm them. I believe that You are faithful to carry us through anything and promise great joy on the other side. I trust Your will for us is perfect... It’s just LORD, Your will sometimes hurts...”
Jesus simply smiled, held out his hands and said, “Tell me about it.”
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