I believed in a miracle, and it didn’t happen.
I don’t believe for miracles often. The whole time I fought the cancer, I never asked for a miracle.
But this time felt different. I envisioned you healing the lame, the touch of your hand on my shoulder beckoning me forward. Your hand in mine as I stood and felt the rush of faith through my leg, testing it until I knew it was strong enough for weight. I envisioned the face of the doctor, amazed at the healing, telling me I could walk.
But it didn’t happen.
I am disappointed – so very disappointed. But I can’t say I am disappointed in you, God, as you have provided so amazingly in the past. I can’t believe you have stopped loving or caring for me. I just don’t know what to do with this feeling of disappointment.
Were there people that you didn’t heal when you walked this earth? Was there a lame man you walked past without a word? How did they feel when their buddy, the lame guy, comes running past swinging his crutches, yelling the name “Jesus?” He may have wanted to believe, maybe did believe, but weren’t on the right road, in the right place, when you walked by.
Did they still believe? Were they leaning on their crutches at the foot of your cross?
If they were, I’m sure they are walking now, enjoying sweet fellowship with you. I know on this earth we have trials created by the sin of death. Our bodies, whole and in part, are in death, waiting to be resurrected. It was a miracle that dead bodies rose out of graves after your crucifixion. But not all dead bodies of all history walked again. That’s why it is a miracle.
I guess a miracle was not in your plan for my life, at least not for today.
I’m rambling. This may be more raw than you wanted to hear, but you know my thoughts and heard them before they came out of my mouth. I know you will break through – you always do. But these feelings are real, for now.
I will walk again, either here or heaven. I need to keep listening for your voice, calling my name.
