The Unexpected Blessing

Genesis 32:26, "But Jacob replied, 'I will not let you go unless you bless me.'"

A healthy child is a blessing.

A special needs child can be even more of a blessing.

It may not seem so on the surface. After all, I spent all of yesterday at my son's hospital bedside, then came home to weep, crawl into bed exhausted, and toss fitfully before falling into a shallow, restless sleep. (How could sitting in a chair all day possibly make me so tired?)

Time stood still as I wiped my son's tears, listened to him cry for home, watched drugs drain his vibrant spirit, and stroked his hair as he endured pain that I could do nothing to stop. All the while, the Enemy whispered in my ear, "Where is God? Surely He would never let your beloved son suffer so." And for a brief moment, I, in the frailty of my flesh, believed it.

But then I heard myself describing to my little boy the wounds suffered by the Father's own Beloved Son. I told him of the nail driven through his one hand; then the nail driven through the other; and finally the nail driven through His feet. I told him that Jesus understood what it was like to feel pain. And in His suffering, Jesus Himself also asked, "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?"

Then I spoke to him of heaven. That he would receive a new body; that there would be no more death, or sorrow, or crying, or pain; that one day God, not me, would wipe away every tear from his eyes. And I realized that I was also speaking to myself.

So often we think God's blessing means getting what we want, but true biblical blessing is not usually like that. Blessed are those who mourn, the Scripture says; blessed are the poor in spirit; blessed are the meek, the merciful, the persecuted. Having a child like Timothy brings me to the end of myself and humbles me to utter dependence upon the Lord. In His infinite wisdom, God has used Timothy's weakness to show me my own. As my selfishness, pride, and doubting heart are prodded by His gentle hands, I am emptied of myself and filled to overflowing with the love of the Savior.

When Jacob wrestled with God, he insisted that he would not let go until He blessed him. What did he receive in return? Escape, comfort, ease? No, he received a new name: Israel, "He struggles with God." The Scripture says that he strove with God and prevailed. Jacob clung to God, even when He afflicted him. And His "blessing" was continual, lifelong weakness and struggle with God.

My earnest desire and prayer is that I, and my beloved son Timothy, will accept the weakness God has ordained for us, and that we, like Jacob, will struggle with God and prevail, so that we may one day receive the blessing.

Romans 8:18, “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.”

There is no sweeter place than that of utter helplessness before God.

Last night, as sleep fled from my eyes, my spirit longed for some eloquent, exhaustive, persuasive prayer that would convince God to take away my child’s suffering. Instead, all I could do was to cry out, “I NEED YOU, I NEED YOU, I NEED YOU!” over and over again. How could I put into words the anguish of a parent anticipating her child’s pain? I wanted nothing more than to take Timothy in my arms, hold him tight, and protect him from all of the world’s brokenness

I wonder what God the Father experienced that night in Gethsemane. The Scriptures describe in great detail the distress of Jesus; but what of the Father? How did He feel on the eve of His beloved Son’s crucifixion? The Scriptures are strangely silent. I know that He felt compassion, for He sent an angel to comfort Him; but, like me, did He feel anxious, afraid, helpless?

In three days, I will watch my son be put to sleep, then walk away as I entrust him to the hands of his surgeons. Really, though, I will consciously be placing him back, yet again, into the hands of Christ. Timothy belongs to God, and despite the depths of my love for him, incredibly, his Heavenly Father loves him even more. It is hard enough for me to relinquish my child into the hands of a loving God; I cannot fathom what the Father must have felt as He placed His Son in the hands of sinful men, bent on destruction, and ultimately into the hands of the Devil himself. However, there is one thing I do know: He was not anxious, worried, or afraid. He knew that once all things had been worked together for good, every knee would bow, and every tongue would confess, that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

While I do not know the future God has planned, I do know that He is good and has promised to freely give all things to those who love Him. I cannot take away Timothy’s pain, but I can ask the Lord to take away my anxiety as I trust Him to take care of this beloved little boy whom we both love more than life itself, and to bring glory to God through all things.