This morning I woke up thinking about a baby. There’s a baby that some in our church have been praying for. I’ve never met the family nor the baby. But from what I have heard, the baby and her family have been through unimaginable surgeries to try and save her life. Last night at our administrative board meeting someone announced that they received more bad news about this baby. And I cringed. I would not blame anyone in this situation if they raised their fist to the sky and cursed and screamed, “There’s no way you can be real. And if you are real, you are so cruel to put a months old baby through this. How could you let this happen?”
Sometimes life seems like nothing more than a life and death version of the TV game show “Wipeout.” We run through life jumping, ducking, and dodging. We try our best to avoid words like cancer, diabetes, dementia, and irritable bowel syndrome (I’m not making light here – the only people who smiled when I wrote IBS are those not dealing with it). If we dwell on it, we understand that most all of us are going to get whacked sooner or later. And that’s depressing.
So admitting the above, and at any given time having a dozen different people currently going through hell on my mind, I stand before the church on Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings, and I blog over and over, often countering these real life experiences with the idea that there is more going on than meets the eye. Life is not a random game of Wipeout. I read, write, and speak of a God who cares, in spite of the times the enemy whispers that this God does not care or is not even real. I bear witness to a God who will meet you in the midst of the darkest, deepest parts of your journey through this life. He knows the way to wherever you are. He shows up offering hope, peace, strength, and comfort just when we need it most.
I say this having some experience in seeing Him show up and perform miracles. I also say this having some experience in seeing Him let some pretty tragic things happen. And I say this having experienced my times of doubt.
And now, after nearly an hour and a half of working on today’s post, praying over this, and as much as I just want to archive today’s blog without posting it, I feel the need to post it. So I ask Him to help me finish it. Lord, give me the words. And it seems there are no more words. And it’s not because He is absent.
*
*
*
*
*
Scott Knowlton's Blog 