God in the ICU: redemption lives here too.
I have not asked where God is in all of this, because I’ve learned over these past 13 months that God is always here. We cannot base our belief in God on our feelings towards Him.
But, I have felt confusion.
I have had my chats with the Lord, asking why, why this bad, and what the heck? My mind is a mess. Although there is peace and yes, even joy, I feel a little stunned. And I think that’s how we all feel when we go through trauma. When our newborn needs major cardiac surgery, when our 5 year old child has cancer, when a car accident is fatal, when we get a diagnosis for a chronic illness…all of a sudden we are derailed.
But God is always good. I wish, oh how I wish I could have engrained this into my heart before any of these trails came along. I wish I could tell you to let it sink in, that God is love and compassion, that He has a heart that breaks and a heart that is full of mercy.
And terrible things still happen.
We are not immune from suffering. Are we?
When I was in India catching babies, and spending time in the NICU with the unwanted and abandoned babies, sick and dying infants, small bodies getting cold and feet and hands slowly hardening from rigor mortis, I felt the waves of sorrow. Strong, big and ugly waves. In a foreign world. And yet I’m reminded, being here on this cot splattered with blue and white checkers, that pain happens here too. I felt I had carried enough sorrows from my time in India to last a lifetime. Helpless infants. Disease that medicine cannot cure. It’s here, staring at me again.
But, I believe my God turns the ugly into the divine, makes the broken things whole, the crooked straight. I believe He is in the ash heap, making all beautiful.
One thing He has spoken to me over and over is that He is the God of redemption. I don’t know what it looks like, how it will turn out, but I know He’s my Redeemer.
So I will wait, breathless with anticipation or silent and still, unable to make my voice sing. I will wait for You.
What else can I do?