I remember what I was wearing, where I was sitting, who I was with. The beeps and rhythmic whooshing of machines connected to our sleeping-but-not-sleeping son, too still there in the too-big bed in the too-small room. It hadn’t been that long but I was already craving the boisterous boy-ness of slamming doors, using outside voice inside, and the never-satisfied on-repeat I’m hungry – I’m thirsty.
There was no logic or reasons or answers from all the days and all the tests. Just exhaustive waiting and smothered stillness and fluids drip-drip-dripping… the sounds of patience wearing thin and helplessness bucking up on steroids.
The practitioners in white jackets had a general idea for the raging fever, jumbled incoherent words, semi-consciousness, excruciating neck pain, meteoric headache, loss of motor functions, and inability to walk. Results from the lumbar puncture gave them some clues but not enough. Contagious for sure. Before they would order any action of value, they needed more, they had to know the name. They said this so many times I wanted to punch their neatly embroidered name pocket—we need to know the name, we have to know the name in order to know exactly what to do. In my Mom’s Doctor Degree opinion, it seemed ridiculous and a frivolous waste of time in the midst of the drip-drip-dripping and the quiet which seemed to both sprint and stand still at the same time.
Technically, I had been saved more than 20 years before, welcoming Jesus as my Savior when I was just 9, deciding to follow Jesus, just like the song. But I let my tiny little Jesus fire go out over the years between kid days and grown-up-with-a-kid days, doused with rebellion and buckets of apathy and inattention. I knew about Him but I didn’t know Him, I had not pursued (or answered) a real relationship with Him. I ignored Him in the cool way that only teens can; I heard about Him on sometimes Sundays, I thanked Him for meals. I full-on ran away from Him on more than one occasion. I threw out the sporadic stumbly I-need-You prayer when days felt especially hard because I thought He was big and far away and I hadn’t bothered to find out that only half of that was true.
This was the me that found herself balanced carefully on the edge of the foreign bed with the wrinkledy sheets and flat plastic pillows, back ever-so-slightly brushing against the hot skin of our son’s form, every part of him tender-hurting. It felt like his life was in the balance too; that’s what the letters ICU spell when you don’t know different. Perched there, with a force ironically like my drowning out the knowing of Him all these years, a desperate flood of tears began their own drip-dripping, making dark splotches on my purple denim jeans. So I just cried. I needed it and in an odd way wanted it because it felt like I was at least doing something.
When I finally could, I prayed with all my heart (which I don’t think I’d ever done before).
God, I know I never talk to you and I’m sorry. I hope you hear me now because Charlie is really sick and no one knows what’s wrong and we really need your help. The doctors are hung up on knowing the name of whatever it is but I think I read somewhere in the Bible that Jesus is the Name above every name, like if it has a name then Jesus is bigger than that. I don’t know if that’s right, but if it is then can’t it be true that even if it doesn’t have a name, Jesus would be bigger than that too? So God I’m saying it doesn’t really matter if the doctors ever have a name, I don’t even care about that, but would the name Jesus please heal Charlie from this? Please? Thank you, God. Amen.
It was honest, I’ll say that.
Our Charlie was in the hospital for two weeks. He went home with a peripherally inserted central catheter (PICC) line, which gave access to the large central veins near his heart. A nurse came a few times to help and to show us how to continue giving him meds via the PICC for several weeks. He was homebound for almost two months. The diagnosis was in the meningitis family so that’s how they treated it, as meningitis. But they never did know the exact name – viral, bacterial, or any of the many derivatives of this nasty animal. I actually like that they never got to record a name in the official chart. But I did.
Jesus.
This is an amazing testimony story that I want you to know some things from. You saw the blah state of my personal and spiritual condition. I was far away, I was flaky; I wasn’t this super God person that deception tries to make us think we have to be. I didn’t know exactly what the Bible said. I really didn’t know if He was listening. Yet God heard me. God saw us; He was with us. He knew everything that was going on. My spiritual condition did not diminish who God is. He didn’t deny His nature by turning away, ignoring, saying well you only talk to me when you need something. He drew near when I drew near Him with an honest yet stumbly prayer, my weak faith reaching out. Drawing near is one of the promises He made and always keeps. Being always present is His nature. Answering when we call on Him is His obedience to His own word.
The unique circumstance of this healing was the first place where I sensed I could hammer in a stake of true faith, the beginnings of my belief and trust in something solid, when I truly began a knowing OF God. It felt like an assurance from Him personally that He could be trusted; that’s what peace is (another one of His vast promises).
The evidence of healing in our son wasn’t an immediately finished miracle (like we always want—quick, done, wrapped up in a bow); it was a process over time. Just like trust is built. Just like faith is strengthened. Just like relationships are formed. Even with God. But He is patient and ever attuned to our slightest facing His direction or faintest whisper to Him, always watching, always listening, ready for an opening to pour out His love…and mercy, forgiveness, healing, whatever our need. Our part is to just make even a little space, open the door a crack and let Him in to do what only He can.
And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart. ~Jeremiah 29:13
And it shall come to pass that whoever calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved. ~Acts 2:21
Scripture reference – let the word speak to you personally!
Philippians 2:9-11
James 4:8
John 14:27
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image by jan tinneberg on unsplash