Redemption: an exchange, reclaiming or rescuing – my new favorite word. I find myself pleading for it as I pray for my friends. This week especially – my heart feels like it’s encased in thick cement.
A young father waits for a bone marrow transplant after flushing his body with poison to interrupt the wicked plan of cancer. Another friend is stalled midstream in treatment, waiting for test results as she battles a rare female cancer.
Still another friend sits with her daughter in ICU hoping she’ll wake up after careening into an asthma-induced coma. Two states away from her, another friend fights her way back to us after trauma to her brain.
Each one of these dear friends knows the love of God and knows Jesus as their Savior. Each one of them confesses unwavering faith in the face of their storm. They wait. They pray. They’re my heroes.
I watch their communities join them in prayer – pleading for healing – waiting for the supernatural rescue line.
Our Heavenly Father holds all lifelines. He also knows the outcome.
What does he think as he watches us bang heaven’s doors telling him – the creator of all we see and all we can’t see – what he must do? Surely, if we cry hard enough, shout loud enough, make wrong things right – somehow, heaven will finally respond the way we want it to. The torrential storm will pass and clear skies of grace and fairness will return. Bad will be redeemed with his good.
But what if redemption comes in the form of death – or through the mystery of suffering?
Redemption scoops up our broken pieces and reconstructs it for his best use. We didn’t redeem ourselves into right standing with him in the first place. And we cannot redeem our difficult circumstances by what we do or say. As believers, we can’t even claim our own life as our own. Hard times remind us of that.
His plans are always best. He knows the tomorrow we can only dream about.
Releasing our will, our plans and even our grip on the tiller is a lifelong journey. Graciously receiving his redemptive plan – whatever it may be, is an even tougher sea to sail.
Sovereign God, help me let go and accept your perfect plan. Chip away the hard surface of my stoney heart. I yearn to reclaim it with complete trust in who you are. I don’t need to know what your plan looks like – I only need to walk in my own completed redemption with full assurance you are bigger, smarter and wiser than me. Heal us, I pray.
Psalms 66:19-20 “Praise God who does not reject our prayers or withhold his love from us.”
Linking up today with #TellHisStory by Jennifer Dukes Lee. Hop on over to read her blog along with the many others invited to participate in sharing their stories. You won’t regret it.