What a day.

There are just some days, y'all. 

Days when I mourn the disintegration of a family. Days when I see the posture of the world upheld by the strength of each individual. Days when the addict choses death over life. Days when the weary lay cold and naked on our sidewalks as we walk on by. Days when the father is ripped from his family and bound by the shackles that prevent him from leading his family that they so desperately need. Days when the stomachs of the hungry rumble, and the homeless search for a safe haven as they struggle with sickness, held captive by the very environment that keeps them sick. Days that see the inner beauty of God's creation compromised in the mind of the woman who labeled herself a whore before she choosed to believe what God really says about her.

There are just some days, y'all.

And I fall to my knees and cry out for them. Because I want them to know the God I know. I want them to know that their life is not a giant write off because of the choices that they have made or the things that have happened to them that caused these things in their life.

And then I look up and am suddenly taken to the foot of the cross where all of the condemnation of the world is dripping from the feet of a Savior who has taken their pain and made it his own. Who says that they have a life of abundance because of the price that He paid. He asserts that no matter the journey, he is the ending.

So for them, as well as me, I will rejoice in the Lord.

"Lazarus, come out."

I am going to just be competely real for a few minutes so I ask for grace when I put everything on the line for the world to see. You see, the truth is that I am good at dodging the questions that might have you wonder how my faith is, when in all reality, I too struggle. And while I know that I know that I know who my Savior is, finding His will in this mess of life is easier on some days, harder on others.

When my 5-year old niece was first diagnosed with cancer, after the shock had settled, I started to watch for miracles to happen. Obviously, both then and now, I prayed for that one miracle that would come in the version of an "all clear" scan of her body. No cancer. Completely clear. Now, three months later, I am learning to trust God in all things and praise Him as I see my brave brother and sister-in-law wade through the water holding on the promise stated to all of us believers in Isaiah 43:2: "When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you. (3) For I am the Lord, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior..."

These miracle stories have come, and at first I found my praises being lifted to God for what I was witnessing. People were hearing about my niece and were beginning to pray for the first time in a long time. I even had an atheist tell me that they would "pray to my God on behalf of my niece." I'll take it and rejoice gladly! But before long, a different type of seed was planted and in no time, the bitterness crept in. It was a simple question that sounded something like this: "Do you really think your prayers can change the will of God?" Like a knife in the back, I tried to recover yet searched for the words.  Did I really think my prayers could change the will of God in regards to my precious niece's life? I thought so. But soon my tears were no longer being shed for the souls that were being drawn in to a closer relationship with the Father, rather they were being shed in anger. For example, I remember telling God about how messed up it was for my niece to have to go through hell for someone who had shared with me that "her situation had really made them think about God again." My heart had such a reason to celebrate this, as I mourn regularly over people who don't know the kind of freedom that Christ offered to those who believe. Yet my mind cried out in an imaginary conversation with them, "you know, God has always been here. Does my niece really have to suffer for you to get that?! Because you could have had this all along! Long before the suffering began!" I thank God for my husband who laid his hands over my body that morning and cried and prayed over me. I love you, Jarett. 

There is a famous story in the Bible that refers to one of Jesus's best friends, Lazarus. Lazarus had become sick and when Jesus heard about it, he didn't rush to his side immediately, saying "Lazarus's sickness will not end in death. No, it happened for the glory of God so that the Son of God will receive glory from this." (John 11:4)  So the son of God, the Almighty Healer, the Great Physician, the Great Deliverer, waited. He could have rushed to be with His friend, but instead, he waited. God would have to get his glory or it was all for nothing. Life is but a fleeting moment, filled with the moments from God that impact us somehow, and Jesus knew this. So he waited in order for the glory of God to shine. 

It has been a few weeks since that dark seed was planted, and would you believe it if I told you that the same person who asked me that pivotal question has since returned into my life? I will admit that my initial reaction was to hold my breath and wait for the scary blow of [her] reality to come baring down on me. Thankfully I belong to a patient God with a sense of humor and have dumped the rotten harvest from that first encounter  back through the gates of hell  where it belongs and now am full with the truth about God's promises that enable me to plant His seeds in her heart.  Have I figured out the answer to the question "are my prayers really going to change the will of God?" No, but I don't need to right now. All I need to know is that God is good all the time. And all the time, God is good. (And let her know, too.)