Here’s the deal: I’ve spent many years praying for the healing of my hearing loss. And it’s been hard, really hard. And harder, still, when I think of how my prayers for my own healing overlap with prayers for two of my three children and their very different losses.
Of course, the intensity of my prayers for healing comes and goes. There’s seasons when I find myself crying out to the Lord regularly, begging him to make these ears of mine work and make them work already. Yet in other seasons, healing is a fleeting thought simmering in the back of my mind. In times like these, the need for healing is concealed by the urgent needs of here and now. But it’s always there, this longing for something better.
A thought, possibly a divine one, came to me last week through the Holy Spirit, and homework from a Beth Moore Bible study, of course. He prompted my heart to focus on the promises of his kingdom that are forever, rather than viewing the kingdom and its promises as promises yet to come, like my hearing. Does that make sense?
Here’s what I mean: It’s hard for me to pray, day in and day out, season after season, for the one thing that isn’t getting better: my hearing loss. Especially since my hearing is supposed to get worse. But, this sensitive heart of mine is encouraged to keep on asking, and asking again, because the answer is guaranteed to come and will never be taken away.
What’s more, does it matter when it’s going to happen? Well, of course it does. I’m impatient.
I’m going to ramble for a minute, just go with me. Let’s pretend that waiting for my healing is like waiting for a party to start. I know the party has been planned, the invitations have been sent out to the heavenly hosts, the venue reserved. But I haven’t received my invitation, and I’m getting frustrated. Even though I know in the end it will be a grand affair, worth it in the long run. For it will be a surprise party, and I’ll be the guest of honor. And it won’t matter if the big event happens today or tomorrow, next year, or years from now, on this side of heaven or the next. In the end, I’ll look back and it will not matter. It’s going to happen all the same.
If it’s not like a party, than maybe it’s like a grand celebration at the end of a race. Once again, I’m mixing metaphors.
Either way, in just a little while he will make all things new. All things. My hearing. Lauren’s hearing. Steven’s vision. It doesn’t matter so much that the healing hasn’t come, since this is all temporary anyway. Well, of course it matters. But maybe, just maybe, living with loss or a different sensory ability (never disability) isn’t the short end of the stick that it appears to be. You’d better believe me when I say that it feels like the short end of the stick. But is it?
I keep praying, asking, and hoping for the healing now. But the other side of heaven isn’t so far off. I know that when we look back, it won’t be. I say this with trembling hands lifted high in praise. And of course, I will have to lower my trembling hands from time to time, long enough for me to wipe away the tears.
Because it hurts to wait.
I’m reminded of the wedding reception miracle found in John 2. I know it’s taking everything out of context, but it’s how my mind works. Other women can multi-task. My mind specializes in making random God-connections. And these connections are holy, for they bring me back to him.
Remember at the reception when Jesus filled the containers that were set aside for ceremonial cleansing, and had them filled with water by the servants to be turned into something better? The wine was incomparable, a wine above other wines. The Master of Ceremonies approached the bride groom, baffled really. How could the best wine be saved for last? But you see, I never realized it before but the best was yet to come. It was Jesus revealing his glory in perfect time.
Maybe this doesn’t have anything to do with races and finish lines and surprise parties and healing, but I think it does.
I’m reminded once again that his timing is perfect. Always perfect, no matter when his glory is revealed. Even when it hurts. His timing is perfect, every single time.
He’s saying this to me, more and more.
His timing is perfect. The best is yet to come. Hold on, he seems to say, it’s coming.
