The morning after my mom's diagnostic mammogram, I dropped her off and came home. We were leaving for Indiana the next day but I had already packed everything in case I needed time for a meltdown. However, there was no need for that, we had received great news! I expected to feel overwhelmed with joy.
Although I did feel very thankful, I also felt a little numb. I couldn't figure out what was going on with me. So I went out on our back porch (one of my favorite quiet places) and just sat there, listening to my thoughts. I took out my journal and started writing and asked Jesus to help me process where I was spiritually, emotionally and mentally. I needed a faith lift!
I was in a bit of shock that the doctor's couldn't find anything. I also felt some doubt. Then I felt guilty for not having more faith. Were they missing something? Or had I just witnessed a miracle? Had God removed what her original doctor felt? Why didn't I believe?
Next came a sense of being unworthy of a miracle because I hadn't prayed as desperately as I thought I should have.
In the days prior to mom's appointment I had quietly whispered a prayer that God would remove the lump. But I hadn't begged Him. I hadn't ask more than one or two times because I didn't want to be disappointed. I have a default mechanism of not asking for too much. That way I won't feel as much of a let down if He doesn't grant my requests. I know that's not good.
I had also protected myself from being consumed by fear by not talking about it. I am a verbal processor so if I talk about something, the frequency and volume of my thoughts go up. If I don't talk, the frequency and volume of my thoughts go down. This was something I learned about myself the day I received news I didn't want to hear about my mom's very concerning lump.
What Jesus showed me that day is that His actions, His response, His love - are not based on my actions, my fervency, my begging, my faith or my lack of. What matters is the object of my faith, not the size of my faith.
My faith has nothing to do with me, but everything to do with HIM - the author and perfecter of my faith. Jesus gave me a faith lift that day by lifting my head so that I was looking into His eyes, focused on His heart and trusting in Him who is able to do immeasurably more than I ever think or ask.
You, O LORD, are a shield about me, my glory, and the One who lifts my head. Psalm 3:3
Although I did feel very thankful, I also felt a little numb. I couldn't figure out what was going on with me. So I went out on our back porch (one of my favorite quiet places) and just sat there, listening to my thoughts. I took out my journal and started writing and asked Jesus to help me process where I was spiritually, emotionally and mentally. I needed a faith lift!
I was in a bit of shock that the doctor's couldn't find anything. I also felt some doubt. Then I felt guilty for not having more faith. Were they missing something? Or had I just witnessed a miracle? Had God removed what her original doctor felt? Why didn't I believe?
Next came a sense of being unworthy of a miracle because I hadn't prayed as desperately as I thought I should have.
In the days prior to mom's appointment I had quietly whispered a prayer that God would remove the lump. But I hadn't begged Him. I hadn't ask more than one or two times because I didn't want to be disappointed. I have a default mechanism of not asking for too much. That way I won't feel as much of a let down if He doesn't grant my requests. I know that's not good.
I had also protected myself from being consumed by fear by not talking about it. I am a verbal processor so if I talk about something, the frequency and volume of my thoughts go up. If I don't talk, the frequency and volume of my thoughts go down. This was something I learned about myself the day I received news I didn't want to hear about my mom's very concerning lump.
What Jesus showed me that day is that His actions, His response, His love - are not based on my actions, my fervency, my begging, my faith or my lack of. What matters is the object of my faith, not the size of my faith.
My faith has nothing to do with me, but everything to do with HIM - the author and perfecter of my faith. Jesus gave me a faith lift that day by lifting my head so that I was looking into His eyes, focused on His heart and trusting in Him who is able to do immeasurably more than I ever think or ask.
You, O LORD, are a shield about me, my glory, and the One who lifts my head. Psalm 3:3
4 Comments:
Romans 8:26 is one of my favorite verses and helps alleviate some of that guilt when I feel I haven't prayed as I ought: "Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered."
Congratulations on the good report!
What a great reminder that it is still about Christ - even if our works don't seem to be enough. I am glad to hear your mom is okay!
Hey Sweet Friend. I love this entry - you make an often-missed point. Then again, I alwasy love your writing. But just so you know, I was praying ferverantly for that lump to be cast into the sea! And I did have my faith-a-chino in celebration of the outcome.
Hugs ~ Rachel
What an awesome perspective. I love the way you said it was the object of your faith that mattered. GREAT point and great reminder. I am thankful that this storm as blown over. I know you had battened down the hatches for the worst ... as any of us would have done if it had been our mother's breasts in question. How thankful we all are that you can take your raincoat off and look up into the sunlight on this one! God is so good to us, isn't He? I love your new site. Very clever!! Hope to catch up with you soon! Big hugs,
Marlo
Post a Comment
Home