fervent cries
“During the days of Jesus’ life on earth, he offered up prayers and petitions with fervent cries and tears to the one who could save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission.” Hebrews 5:7
My Abba,
When I meditate on this passage, I am comforted. It seems somewhat inappropriate to feel comforted by an account of Jesus’ anguished prayer. But I think it encourages me to stay away from some messed-up thinking. Sometimes I have been tempted to believe if I just prayed the right way, you would do what I asked.
Obviously, Jesus’ cries burst forth from a downcast, but flawless heart. No issue with wrong motives or a hidden, self-serving agenda. Despite his supreme status as Maker of heaven and earth, he was willing to sacrificially live and die as a human, inside one of the tiny frames he fashioned.
He knew how to plead with you perfectly. There wasn’t a problem with his ability to communicate. Jesus knew better than anyone how to talk to you. He had been with you since forever.
He knew you had the power to do what he asked. He was absolutely certain you were able. No lack of faith. He prayed to the only One who could actually grant his desperate request. He knew firsthand everything good and right is possible for you. But, he put his faith in you, not in the outcome. Your glory. Your will. Your way.
He asked. You heard him. You turned him down.
At times, I have felt “less spiritual” or sad when some believers talk to me about my chronic illness. There are those who suggest you don’t want me to live in the fist of affliction. They assure me if I had enough faith, and said the right prayer with the right belief, you would heal me.
It actually encouraged me last week to read about Paul’s advice to his beloved son Timothy in 1 Timothy 5:23. Paul acknowledges that Timothy is “sick so often.” Chronic illness? Was Timothy’s health in the tank because Paul and/or Timothy didn’t have enough faith or pray properly for healing? That doesn’t seem possible in light of the rest of Scripture.
And then there’s that passage I saw the other day in 2 Timothy 4:20 that simply says Paul “left Trophimus sick at Miletus.” Paul did not have any deficits in the healing gift department, and yet he left his esteemed co-worker sick.
I absolutely would love to live my days out on this earth pain and disease free. I have asked you countless times to heal me. I know you created this body, and you are able to repair it. You miraculously heal some of us. I have prayed for healing for some of those people you miraculously healed.
But if you don’t do that for me until heaven, please be my relentless Lifeline of strength amidst the crushing waves of my weakness. I want a heart that beats intensely for your glory, your will, your way, in sickness and in health. Please make it so.
I love you,
Mollie
My child,
You don’t have to hold your prayer hands at the proper angle, speak the right words in a pious, pleasing tone, while waving your most impressive spiritual credentials, in order to receive what you want. It has never been, and will never be, about any of those things.
I don’t look for the people who are doing it right and keep them healthy while letting the rest of my less “accomplished” children suffer. My grace gifts would not be gifts, if you had to perform well to get them. My healing is one of those gifts.
Even though Christ walked among you and was consumed with perfect desire for my plans and purposes, he did not want to suffer and die. He lived and died without a mistake, but was not masochistic. Though he submitted to my will, even he asked for an alternate path. I don’t blame you for wanting something different.
I understand you are sick of being sick. Can you trust me to carry you all the way to heaven, even if I don’t give you the physical healing in this life you so keenly desire? If you rely on my power, we can do this. You are not alone.
I want you to fall into the deep end of my mercy every hour and trust that I can, and will, redeem all your emotional and physical frailties for my eternal purposes. I promise to create something everlasting and beautiful amidst the most tenacious pain in your life.
I love you,
Abba
photo: christingasner