Monday, January 28, 2013


I walk in and they are singing.

A beautiful song about how "our God is greater, our God is stronger, our God is higher than any other. Our God is healer, mighty in power, our God. Our God."

And He is greater.

And stronger.

And His power is so mighty.

So very, very mighty.

And He is our God.

Our God who came.

Our God who walks daily with us.

And then I get to it.
The words that stick in my throat.

"Our God is healer."

And I think of a young girl struggling in the hospital right now. I think of her intestines twisting and her pain caused by eosinophils. I think of her impending surgery.

And my gut sinks.

"Our God is healer."

And I think of the eosinophils attacking my boy's body as I stand there, hands raised, praising a healing God.

And the words don't want to come out.

"Our God is healer."

And I think of a friend who had to text me to find someone to help her get into church. Because she was stuck in the parking lot. Because she couldn't carry her baby, her diaper bag, her purse, and push her 6 year old son's wheelchair at the same time.

And my eyes well.

"Our God is healer."


And the tears come. And the frustration is there. And the pain is there. The pain of knowing I love a healing God who sometimes chooses not to heal.

And I pray with a friend.

I remember Him.

I remember another son He chose not to heal.

He made that choice for me. For you.

And I remember, thankfully, that I love a healing God who sometimes chooses not to heal.

And I know He loves the girl in the hospital.
He loves the 4 year old boy down the hall in his classroom.
He loves the toothless grin of the sweet blonde boy in the wheelchair.

And I sit in the silence of this room.

Alone now.

Just me and Him.

And I know.

He does heal.

Every time He heals.

It just may not be here.
It may not be in this world.

But He does heal.

In fact, this is one of those healing moments.

And when I picked up the four year old boy, they told me that he didn't have a great day. And usually that means he was in his "own world." And instead of the sadness that often sinks over my soul, I think,  "well, what does that matter?" It's not our world anyways.


  1. It is so hard for us to remember that it is not our world. You rock.

  2. We will never understand God's plan and that is as it should be. But we do know that he made the ultimate sacrifice because he loved the four year old, six year old, fifteen year old and the rest of us ___________ year olds. And through the healing moments we gain courage to face the difficult hours. Love you bunches.

  3. This blog post is beautifully honest. Just like the author. Love you.