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.

God's Path

Psalm 16:11, "You will show me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore."

When I was a new Christian, I envisioned joy as an end product resulting from fulfillment of my earthly dreams. Like a genie in a bottle, I dictated to God the path I wanted to walk, and expected happiness to result when He made it come true.

Now that I have experienced the disappointments, troubles, and inequities of life, I understand that God's path is less about what happens physically on earth, and more about what happens eternally in my heart and in His kingdom. Psalm 37:5-6 says, "Commit your way to the Lord, Trust also in Him, And He shall bring it to pass." Bring what to pass? My will? My ideas of what will make me happy? No, it says, "He shall bring forth your righteousness as the light, And your justice as the noonday." God's path is about growing a Christlike righteousness in His children that radiates so bright that the darkness cannot overcome it.

I consider the path of the Israelites as they wandered in the desert. Why did God bring them on this toilsome journey? Deuteronomy 8:2-4 says, "the Lord your God led you all the way these forty years in the wilderness, to humble you and test you, to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep His commandments or not." Their path was not for their temporal fulfillment, but rather for the sifting of their character, to see if they would trust God and give glory to Him alone.

Psalm 23:3-4 describes God's way as the path of righteousness. His path is a spiritual one, of right living, of death to sin and life to God. He guides us down it "for His name's sake;" His leading is for the glory of His name. Isaiah 48:10-11 says, "...I have tested you in the furnace of affliction. For My own sake, for My own sake, I will do it; For how should My name be profaned? And I will not give My glory to another." Indeed, the path of Psalm 23 goes "Through the valley of the shadow of death..." As so often is with the Lord, the gateway to life is death itself. Christ's path was laden with sorrow, pain, and the cross. Why should I think that my path would differ? Did I not agree to take up my cross and follow Him?

So much of my life is wasted in anxiety, unthankfulness, and joylessness, when all the while I have full access to the presence of almighty God at every turn. The curtain to the Holy of Holies has been torn in two, and by the blood of Christ I may enter with boldness. In His presence is fullness of joy. Through God's glory is my fulfillment and satisfaction. And God is most glorified when I, like Job, like Christ, trust, obey, and honor Him in the midst of affliction. This is the path of life. This is the path of joy.

God's Love

Stayed upon Jehovah,
Hearts are fully blest
Finding, as He promised,
Perfect peace and rest.

Late the other night I stepped into my daughter’s room where she was nestled in her crib. She stirred a bit as I gathered her in my arms and held her close, nursing her back to sleep. Before I laid her back down, I stopped to gaze at her tiny face. Her breath was warm and sweet on my shoulder, her lips pink and still, her eyes peaceful and at rest. And for those few moments, I was able to see her through the window of God’s eyes: perfect.

It didn’t make any difference that she has webbed toes, or wakes me up at night, or that she cries a lot, or hasn’t learned to crawl. The only thing that mattered, the only thing on which my love was based, was that she was my child.

I knew the next morning would bring a new day, full of tears, messes, dirty diapers, and the like. I knew that our special moment together would seem like a fairy tale amidst the mundane tasks of everyday life. I knew that I would lose my temper, sometimes speak sharply, grow weary, and again see her through my own fallen eyes and not God’s. But the perspective of our Lord does not change as does ours. If we are in Christ, he sees us always and forever, as perfect; because, when He looks at us, He sees His child.

So often I try to earn God’s favor, when all He requires of me to is to come in childlike dependence and rest. I toil to please Him when His favor is already mine. If I think I have fallen short, I punish myself with guilt when forgiveness has already been extended.  I doubt His unchanging love, supposing it is like mine.

I think of the prodigal son who squandered his father’s wealth and reputation with selfish, wild living. As a parent, how would I have reacted? Would I have been angry? Complaining? Scolding or correcting? But he was none of these. He cared for nothing but fellowship with his son. Yes, he was not worthy and barely deserved to be made like one of his hired men. But to that father, he had back his child. Instead of punishing him as his behavior deserved, he welcomed him with celebration and joy.

Dear God, I pray that I may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height — to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that I may be filled with all the fullness of God.

Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, to Him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever.

Amen.