Not My Will
The day before we found out we would leave our home to fly back to the U.S., I pleaded with God:
Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from us. But if not, You are still good and Your will be done. But if there is any. other. way … let there be another way. Take this from us.
A friend gently reminded me through her own tears on our behalf: "He won’t ask your permission on this—You follow Him. But He is and will be with you through it, and He knows what you’re asking."
Beyond the whys or the settling into the promises and truths of who God is and His love and care for us comes a deeper question when it comes to following Him: How much will this cost? Where is the end of this suffering?
And the answer to this is nothing less than what He endured (suffering and death), yet is also guaranteed with the promise of His resurrection (His presence and life). He does not ask us to walk a road He Himself has not already been down before. And He promises that He will be with us through any suffering we go through. I do not wonder if Jesus hears my prayers, I am assured He will speak or groan on my behalf even when I have no words.
In this, I can be confident that even His denying my request is for His glory and for our good. We can trust the Father beyond understanding. Trust Him to hear our cry, to comfort us in our distress, and to still be good with our request.
Flying back to the U.S. did not magically cure Jeremy. He grows sicker each day. Jeremy asked me to write to you all and ask for prayer. His strength is depleting. And this is only the beginning of the waiting. Please pray with us in this season:
“However intense my affliction grows,
let Your presence and power be manifest
ever more profoundly.
Even if this pain expands to fill all my awareness, so that I can hardly move, or speak, or form a coherent thought—even then fling wide Your doors and draw me into Your place of refuge, O Lord, or better yet, seek me and find me where I have collapsed. There gather me into Your arms, carry me to Your hiding place, and tend to my distress.
Where can I go but to You, Jesus?
And who but You can come to me?
Either take this pain away, O Christ
or enfold me in the embrace of Your Spirit
and cradle me through it.
For I cannot bear it alone.
I cannot bear it alone.”
—Every Moment Holy, vol. II