Stunned, the ambulance sped us along, transporting from a local hospital to a children’s hospital miles away. His little six-week old skull suffered a fracture from meeting pavement as we fell. Fresh memories of falling, our mad dash through red lights to the ER, mixed with the phrases “brain swelling”, “holes drilled”, “potential battle with children’s services” swirled in my head; all accompanied by the horrifying, never-to-be-forgotten sound of CRACK, like a wooden bat smacking a baseball, as his head met the ground. Strapped in his infant car seat, which was strapped to the gurney, his weak cries quieted as we barreled down the highway. The blue eyes, now closed, had not displayed the new skill of an eye-to-eye connection and subsequent smile since the fall. Instead they had been dazed and wandering.
Over the steady road noise, I named the comforts of knowing my mom was close by in the front seat, my older three were in the caring hands of a friend who worked at the hospital and took them under his wing, and soon, someone would make contact with my husband who was working with a group of men on a project for a friend.
In desperation to fill my mind with something other than the potential outcomes, I gazed out the small window at the back of the truck and began to pray. I know it was midday in late May, but all appeared as if it were sunset, rosy oranges spreading across the sky. The Lord’s Prayer began to roll off my tongue, my soul caressing each line. “Our Father, who art in heaven” (Yes, Lord, You are set apart in the heavens, above all others, and yet You are also here with us on this frightful trip). “Hallowed be Your name” (You are holy and your Name is sacred). “Your kingdom come….”
My heart froze. I knew the next proclamation even as I whispered the prior. I couldn’t breathe. The phrase stuck in my throat. I couldn’t say it. Physically, I was in the vehicle, but my soul was transported before the throne of God. And, with quiet tenderness, He spoke to my heart, “Well, daughter? Do you trust Me and My will for our boy?”
Did I? They had prepared me for all potential outcomes before we left for Children’s. What if they were His will for my baby? What if his little brain was swelling as we transported, causing irreversible damage? Resulting in a life of never-ending, life-is-not-normal challenges. What if? My lack of reply left a screaming silence between me and my Father.
Outside, the rubber met the road quite literally, while inside it also occurred figuratively in my faith. Do I believe You are who You say? Do I believe Your unrelenting love will follow us and stay us in all scenarios? Do I believe your unfathomable grace and mercy will carry us through all of life’s hards? Is my faith rooted deep enough in truth so I can proclaim, no matter what, Your will be done?
A faith crisis can last years. Or moments. Innumerable roads lead to a test of our beliefs. An accident. A diagnosis. A betrayal. Lethargy. Strong temptations for forbidden fruit. Whispered doubts.
What do we do when a crisis of faith blocks our path, freezing us in our tracks? We look in, back, and forward.
Wadding up and throwing away the fluff of scenic memes and quaint faith-based quips, we dig deep in the Word for who He is. We study the testimony of those who served Him and walked with Him. We contemplate the promises He has spoken over His children. We follow His love story for His people through the ages.
Next, we look back at the line of altars where we have sacrificed praise to Him for times He met us in other troubles. We remember how He rescued us when our feet hit quicksand. How He caught us when we stumbled. We review how He has revealed Himself to us in previous difficulty showing Himself as our Rock and our Fortress.
And, we look forward to what it would mean to walk through our current situation without Him. If we toss our faith aside, what remains? Where will our strength come from? Upon what will we build our hope? We are going to face this crisis whether we walk with Him or not. Why would we go alone? Why would we turn away from His help; His wisdom and direction; His compassionate love and grace?
As we bring together the results of looking in, back and forward, we become reassured of the steadfast, faithfulness of our God. And the faith crisis abates and we are, once again, near to drowning in the power of His love.
Inside the ambulance, I examined with care each question that passed through my heart. And after a time, I was able to lift my head and say, “Yes, Lord. Your will be done. Even in this. Because I know You will be with us whatever the outcome. You remain Lord, no matter our circumstances.”
After a torturous wait-your-turn in the ER for a room, our sweet babe lay on the crinkling sterile paper of an examining table at the Children’s Hospital. Without prelude, he opened those beautiful blue eyes, turned his face, looking deep into my eyes, and smiled.
Photo by Camilo Jimenez on Unsplash
