The man in front of me was young, but wise beyond his years.
He was patient, but adamant; tender, yet strong. Together with his wife, he provided safe surroundings for a fragile little girl, all too familiar with suffering. He was telling a story that used to be ours; a story of vulnerability, of crushed hopes and broken dreams, of indecipherable formal letters and crippling red tape. He shook his head while rubbing his eyes. Tired. Just so tired.
I’ve met many fathers and mothers like him. Parents who lay down their lives for their children. Who relentlessly fight to keep their kids alive and happy. Parents who fearlessly go to war to make sure that their child will have a future. These are the unsung heroes. The facing death on a regular basis-parents. Those who pour into a bottomless pit of needs without complaining.
These are the parents who have had to argue at the hospital the get their kid treated. Imagine bringing your seriously ill child to the hospital, desperate for help, only to be told that he’s lived for a long time, don’t you think it’s time to let him go? This happened to friends of ours 10 years ago. The child in question grew up to be an outstanding man, now finishing his degree in higher education.
Such parents are often admired and praised… from a distance.
Other people don’t get it. Why this will to fight? Don’t they understand that they will achieve a lot more by being nice and patient? No. They don’t. Because they’ve tried that. For years. It didn’t work. Parents such as these have nice and loving as their default settings, until their child’s welfare is threatened. Then the gloves come off. They are the ‘MMA meets Tai chi’ and it may all be over in 20 seconds. Or in 20 years. But these folks won’t go down quietly.
To the outside world, they may appear rigid in their manners; everything must follow a certain rhythm or a preplanned schedule. That’s because they know that the better they’ve planned, the more flexible and prepared they’ll be when disaster strikes. Because it will strike. It always does. The high fever. The dehydration. The arrhythmia. The seizure. The broken bones. Or the crying that just won’t stop.
They’re the difficult parents.
The educated ones. The parents that are driven to be outspoken. Those who know what needs to be done. The parents that the doctors either love or dread. Those who are either embraced or rejected by whatever kind of welfare system they find themselves subject to. These are the only customers who have had to learn by heart every single line of their insurance policy. That is, if they were accepted by any insurance company at all.
These are the friends who are always at some stage of a crisis. They will cancel their appointments with you on short notice. Their good and valid excuses will annoy you, because how could you possibly be mad at them for taking care of their child? So, you pull back. You invest elsewhere. You leave them alone. As does everyone else. They are so dreadfully alone.
Their prayers have changed over the years. Most of them used to pray for healing for their children, but that was before the great disappointment settled in. Now they pray for strength. For less pain. Better coping skills. More patience. Just a couple of hours of sleep every night. A stronger back, please. Lord, make sure that nothing happens to me that will make me unable to care for my child!
But more than anything, they pray for more love.
They know that only a great love can get them through this.
They are stuck in the great divide between how life has turned out, and what Scriptures says that it can be. The impossibilities of the everyday struggles are so real that it’s hard to imagine any other life than this, as difficult as it might be. Every possible future is seen through the needle’s eye of their child’s pain. It’s nearly impossible to catch even a glimpse of anything resembling a better future, especially with the present darkness so close at hand.
How do you pray through a crisis?
You yell. Cry. Keep quiet. Remind yourself of who he is and who you are. You rest. Repeat.
Find your Aaron and let him know that your arms are too heavy to hold up. Allow your friend to sustain you and give your prayers a voice. Open yourself up to the possibility of a different future.
A dear friend of mine got cerebral palsy shortly after birth. She is now a grown woman, living life to the fullest, even with a severe physical handicap. I interviewed her recently, asking her how she imagined her future. She smiled before answering: “I don’t know whether I will be handicapped or not in the future. All I know is that God can use me here and now. I don’t have to be healthy for him to use me.”
I loved that she did not identify with her handicap! She knew that she was a daughter of the Highest King and that every second of her life was in his hand. She doesn’t know what her future holds, nor do I. None of us do. All we know is that God will encounter us. Right here. Right now.
Last week, a mom sent me a lovely message:
“I still can’t quite get over your story. (…) I’m starting to pray specifically for my boys to get well, instead of just to cope better, or for me to have the coping skills to get through. I shared it with my prayer group and asked them to pray. Thanks Marian. Blessings x”
I was wrecked. Totally undone. This mom’s dedication to the well-being of her sons went beyond laying her life down. She laid down her right to understand, her fear of disappointment, her pre-conceived notions of how God should act in her life. She surrendered, knowing that God is an even better parent than she is.
Dear body of Christ, will you stand in the gap for the unsung heroes?
Will you lift their arms when their knees are buckling?
Cover them with your prayers and believe through the pitch-black night of long-lost hope?
Church, are you willing to roll up your sleeves and get your hands dirty?
Mow the lawn and pick up groceries?
Do an extra round of carpooling even when it’s someone else’s turn?
How about the ultimate sacrifice: refraining from telling them what they really should be doing?
Are you willing to serve even when it hurts?
He has shown you, o man, what is good;
And what does the Lord require of you
But to do justly,
To love mercy,
And to walk humbly with your God?
Micah 6:8, NKJV
Love doesn’t keep count. It doesn’t pull back when life turns messy. True love pours out from the well beyond the veil. It knows that mowing the lawn can be the sweetest song and the worthiest of worships.
Beloved friends, what should be our proper response to God’s marvelous mercies? I encourage you to surrender yourselves to God to be his sacred living sacrifices. And live in holiness, experiencing all that delights his heart. For this becomes your genuine expression of worship.
Romans 12:1, TPT
Let’s worship.