“Honey, go home. You haven’t slept more than a few hours in five days. I’ll stay with him. Surgery is scheduled for 8:00 am. You need to sleep when you can,” murmured my husband.
Tipping the newborn scales at 10.5 pounds, our five-day-old son snoozed soundly in his crib at Children’s Hospital for the first time since birth. Diagnosed with Hirschsprung’s, a congenital birth disease, our pediatric surgeon explained that I couldn’t nurse him again until they completed his colostomy in the morning.
My emotions whirled from the day’s diagnosis, but at least we finally had answers.
“Lord, I beg You. Calm my wavering heart and help me focus on Your goodness,” I uttered my short, choppy prayer. “At the worst, he lives life with a bathroom bag and sports won’t be his thing. He’ll adjust. Two surgeries are nothing in comparison to what it could have been. Thank you, Lord, that this isn’t life threatening. Use this.”
Feeling broken, yet grateful, I gathered my belongings and began heading to the parking structure.
My brother jogged after me and insisted, “Let me drive you. You shouldn’t be driving home by yourself.”
“No thanks. I really need the time alone to process today’s information.”
As I trudged to my car, all the “what if’s” danced through my mind. Exhaustion blanketed my thought process, and my emotions reeled.
I begged the Lord to set my mind on things above: His truth, His omniscience, His perfect love that casts out all fear.
As I pulled on the highway, I cranked the local Christian music station knowing that praise music would help squelch any darkness permeating my car, and a brand new song by Twila Paris, “God is in Control,” rang out. Never having heard the song before, I couldn’t believe the words. My breath caught, and I pulled over to the side of the road to listen more intently.
God is in control. We believe that His children will not be forsaken.
God is in control. We will choose to remember and never be shaken.
The tears flowed. I couldn’t stop. My baby — His child.
Gasping for breath, my whimper turned to wailing as the spirit of the Lord descended into that car. He spoke so clearly. Reaching down with His loving arms, God gently rocked me and whispered, “Remember, Matthew’s mine. Remember.”
The song continued,
There is no power above or beside Him, we know, God is in control.
He has never let you down. Why start to worry now?
He is still the Lord of all we see and
He is still the loving Father watching over you and me.
God is in control.
I responded, Oh, Lord, how quickly I forget. Scripture reminds me that You are the same yesterday, today, and forever. You do not change.
On that summer evening twenty-six years ago, God’s voice sounded a whole lot like Twila Paris, and I have never forgotten that moment’s critical significance on my life. Some think God only chose to speak audibly to His people in the Old Testament, but no. I heard the one, true, and living God, who sang truth straight to this momma’s heart in the middle of a crippling crisis.
My Savior, who loved and continues to love my tiny babe more than I ever could, met me in a dark car through a song and changed my life.
As I finished my drive home, peace enveloped me. I can’t begin to explain it, but on one of the scariest evenings of my life, I set my alarm and slept through the night like a baby (a really good baby).
In Matthew 11:15, Jesus declares, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.” Hearing is a discipline, and too often I make every excuse as to why God feels distant. But I am reminded once again of His desire to speak truth intimately and directly to us, just like that moment in my car.
Often, it’s in the ordinary, everyday, simple moments of life when He chooses to reach out and minister to us. I love that He uses so many creative mediums to do so, and when we quiet our hearts and listen expectantly, we can hear what He has to say.
Tell me about a time when the Lord spoke so clearly to you that it had a significant impact on your life.
(Just in case you were wondering, that baby boy ended up playing Division 1 football and is getting married in November to a girl who loves Jesus. Oh yes, our son’s story definitely didn’t end that morning of the surgery when my alarm went off. It was only warming up.)Leave a Comment