dark day

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The weight is tangible.

I wait for the doctor’s report on my beloved stepdad’s surgery. The tumor is small, but could be deadly. Six hours under hot spotlight and cold steel blades.

Will God hear our prayers? I already know He hears. But will He answer like I want Him to?

The weight is grave.

My sister waits, too, tired from her 3:30 a.m. awakening to get to her 4:50 job, driving an hour in the rain to a front desk that pays $8.00 an hour, so she can help buy groceries. Her husband, a faithful youth pastor for a mega-church in the Bible belt, is newly unemployed. Offerings are down, they said. They had to cut back somewhere.

Will God hear our prayers? I already know He hears. But will He answer like I want Him to?

The weight is crushing.

My mother waits in the hospital room, now called to the consulting room, now on edge, waiting to hear, what did the cold steel find? What does the cold room know that she doesn’t’?

Life rains. Life pounds and crushes.

Just two days ago as I hugged the bowl and emptied my stomach with the violence of sickness, sweat pouring, vision blackening, staggering back to the sweat-soaked sheets, I moaned the only Name I know to call. Jesus. Help me.

Will God hear my prayer? I know He hears. But why am I suffering? Why are they suffering?

The weight is crushing.

For we know that the whole creation groans and travails in pain together until now. Romans 8:22

Come unto me, all you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28

He who testifies these things says, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus. Rev. 22:20

I know he hears. I know he comes. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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