All things for the good
I haven't prayed in nearly two years. Not seriously, fervently, spontaneously, and personally, anyway. Here and there I have led the church or a church group in prayer, and I have sat down and prayed with people who needed comfort, but I have not devoted any real time to communication between me and God alone. A couple of years ago I went through a series of difficulties during which my most intense prayers seemed to go unanswered. I never doubted that God is in control. I never doubted that He makes all circumstances work for the good of those who love Him, even if we can't always see how that's true. I never doubted His love for me. I just started to doubt that prayer did any good. God knows what's best, and He's promised to do that whether I ask for it or not. So for nearly two years I have brought Him few requests of any kind and none of a personal nature. During that time, I have made decisions based on my own reasoning, solved problems using the tools at my disposal, and generally tried to change the things I could, accept the things I could not, use my rational abilities to discern the difference, and in the process generally lost all sense of God's presence in my life.
Sunday night, however, I prayed. I prayed seriously, fervently, spontaneously, and personally. Lying wide awake at 2:38 a.m. next to a beloved wife suffering through two full minutes of dry, racking coughs through which she could barely breathe, I realized anew just how powerless I am and how pointless it is to go through life not leaning on God. So I began praying silently. I prayed for healing for my wife. She kept coughing, but I prayed anyway. I prayed for an elderly friend of ours experiencing health problems. I prayed for Todd. I prayed for a friend of mine going through seemingly insurmountable marital problems. I started praying and the floodgates opened, both in my prayers and in my tears. I realized that even though I had lost the feeling of God's presence in my life, He had of course never left me. Forgive me for indulging in cheesiness here, but when I look back over the beach of my life, I'll probably see one set of footprints in the sand of these past two years.
I took Mrs. Happy to the doctor yesterday. He prescribed some medicine that should help her and also told her to get a chest x-ray to make sure that her lungs are okay. As we got ready for bed last night, she sat down and coughed. And coughed. And coughed. I sat down next to her, and during a short break in the coughing I told her about the previous night, about how much I had prayed. The muscles in her face relaxed. She looked at me and said, "So something good is coming of this. I was starting to get angry about it." We talked about it for awhile, about how her sickness made me pray again and how my praying comforted her. Some people would say that everything happens for a reason, and that maybe she got sick so that I would start praying again. I don't believe that, but it wouldn't surprise me either. I do believe, however, that God often makes wonderful things grow out of terrible situations, and that this is one small example of how He works.
Update: The chest x-ray showed no signs of pneumonia, but she's still coughing more than I've ever seen a human being cough. Now we just have to wait and pray that the medicine works the way it's supposed to.
