"I want you to know I have been praying for you. Specifically, I have been praying that God would reveal to you the purpose in Chance's life."
|Reading a card from the sweet hospital nursing staff the day of Chance's birth.|
And with that one simple sentence, her prayer became my prayer, too. I had never thought to pray this prayer, but in that moment, it sounded so profound. And it sure sounded like a good way to to turn this tragedy back to truth.
So I would pray day after day after day, "God, please reveal to me the unique purpose in Chance's short life. Show me. Make it known the purpose in what currently feels like constant pain. Give some meaning to this, Father."
I was overwhelmed and somedays overtaken by the reality of our experience and I learned quickly that amidst all my racing thoughts, I also had to ask the Father to clear my mind, my head, in order to make space for His answer. This was so key in my ability to listen.
Sarah Young writes it Jesus Today "Your racing thoughts make it hard to hear My gentle whisper," and she pairs this thought with 1 Kings 19:12. . .
After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.
My earthquake had come. The fire had blazed. But now, the day my friend stopped me at church, I was sitting in the space, the aftermath of the storm, where I could choose to focus on the gentle whispers of the Father.
So I kept praying and searching and asking and listening.
And over time I heard His reply.
The purpose in Chance's short life and stillbirth and burial is the sweet reminder of the promise of Jesus. The promise of heaven. The promise that there is so much more to life than the day to day grind that so easily bogs down my heart and my head.
"When you think of Chance, may you always think of Me. When the world hears of Chance, may they always be reminded of Me."
Such a tender answer from a tender God.
Although I don't believe that God wanted Chance to die, I do believe that He allowed it to happen for His good and His glory. For His greater purposes. For the pointing back to His son.
And while this belief does not remove suffering or instantly heal the hurt, it does redeem it.
So to our Father we join hands and say. . . Enter our hurts, Lord. Redeem each and every one. Breathe fresh perspective into our hearts that are aching today. Instill hope where there is none. Permeate the calloused areas. Give us your gentle whispers. Break down walls that have been erected out of pride or bitterness or anger or utter saddness. Show us purpose. Point us to Jesus. Redeem our suffering.