Darkness loomed as we walked hand-in-hand into the Alabama Children’s hospital that Friday morning. Another heart procedure awaited our six-year-old on the other side of those doors. He was pretty clueless. We were pretty anxious knowing the story could fall apart right as it was getting good. Read more here about our questioning faith.
He wasn’t showing signs of needing another heart-procedure, the doctors just questioned if this was a miracle after all.
He’s already endured two heart surgeries with the threat of one more because kids don’t usually live with half a heart. But this kid does. God in all His mercies gave him the best surgeon in all the nation at only four days old. With God’s healing power he did two experimental heart surgeries, one at just four-days-old and one at seven-months-old.
And now six years later, the surgeons can’t quite explain it. They scratch their heads in disbelief because their medical minds can’t explain why his heart looks so good, so they do the only logical thing they know how; another heart catheterization to confirm what we already know as true: he is a walking miracle.
It’s a question often asked from the disappointed, and a question I’ve been wrestling with: Why doesn’t God heal everyone? Because you can storm heaven with a thousand prayers and join every prayer chain from every church in the area and His will still be done.
I’m not sure why two weeks after his procedure I’m shocked as the cardiologist confirms there is nothing wrong with his heart. And I wish I could say it was because of our firm, unwavering faith, and all the religious acts we performed, and you should try them too if you need healing. I can’t.
After I talked to the cardiologist, only tears came. Tears of relief and tears of questioning. Why did God choose to heal my son? What about all the thousands of children waiting for miracles? Are you going to heal them, too, God?! Can’t it possibly be something my husband or I have done or not done?
If I believed it was my actions and not God’s, then I’m left pointing fingers at others who are still waiting for a miracle. I could begin thinking I’m somewhat better than my sister who’s praying for God to restore sight to her daughter’s blind eyes. And I’d be left offering prideful advice on how to pray prayers that move the heavens to the hundreds of others waiting for a miracle.
Is my faith somehow superior to theirs? Are their prayers weak and lack power? Do they not even have faith as big as a mustard seed? Because that’s all, it takes. Or maybe they have sinned or not given enough because isn’t that what churches preach? Or perhaps I should tell my husband his father died at the early age of 55 because his family didn’t believe enough or give enough.
I once heard a pastor say, “the tithe breaks the curse.” The last time I checked Jesus was the one who broke the curse.
I know this may be hard to swallow, but Jesus didn’t heal everyone while here on earth.
In the first chapter of Mark, it states, “He healed many who were sick with various diseases and drove out many demons.” (Mark 1:38, italics mine)
Many, not all.
