When Bad Things Happen (not to good people, just when they happen)....

You know, I've been doing alot of thinking lately on something.

These days, social media, blogging, email, and text messages have sort of made it impossible to keep to yourself in a bubble.  Obviously, there are good parts and bad parts to this.  One of the good things is that these avenues of communication are being used more and more for sources of information for people who want to connect with, pray for, and help those going through a rough time.  Specifically when it comes to sickness or medical-related issues. 

Ever since Kathryn was sick, I have been even more in tune to the MULTITUDE of pages, blogs, etc. that are dedicated solely to people asking for prayer for certain things: for a child to be healed, or a woman experiencing difficulties, to a relative who may have had an unexpected accident of some sort. 

It's really pretty fantastic to have such an avenue to solicit prayer, ask for encouragement and help, and for people to keep up with a person's progress. 

But then something happens: sometimes, despite all the prayers, despite all the pleas for help, somebody gets let down.  Or maybe, someone dies, someone might lose their battle, or they may not get the result they prayed for.

And then, here's where it gets interesting: those that do get what they were praying and hoping for, well, they attribute it to the prayer, to all of the support and prayer they received, saying God is the only one that could make that happen.

Certainly, as a Christian, I believe that's true.

But what about the people that didn't get what they wanted?

I'll be honest: every time I see a post or an update about a child or a baby that is healed because of the power of prayer and because God made it happen, well, frankly I may as well have been slapped in the face by someone yelling 'nanny nanny boo boo!'

Because if that's true, then what about my daughter?  Were my prayers not strong enough?  Was I not good enough?  Did my friends and my family not want it enough?  Or did others simply pray harder and want it more? 

I understand what is being conveyed: God is the great healer, the great physician, and the one in charge. 

But I think sometimes we neglect to acknowledge that He is also the one that lets the world be.  And that all of our prayers don't get answered in the way we want, and that most of the time, it has nothing to do with how hard or how long we prayed, or how many people we had praying for us, but everything to do with just how things are, the recognition that we simply live in a broken world.

People don't like to admit this.  It's takes away the control they feel they have over their own prayer life.  Because really, what you pray, how often you pray, and how long, well, sometimes it doesn't have much at all to do with the outcome.  Don't misinterpret me: I am not discounting the power of prayer.  What I am challenging is that perhaps prayer is much more for us than it is Him.

One of my favorite verses is from Hebrew: "During the days of Jesus' life on earth, he offered up prayers and petitions with fervent cries, and tears to the one who could save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission." Hebrews 5:7

What comforts me in this verse is the phrase "he was heard." 

It's taken me a long time to come to terms with the fact that being 'heard' doesn't necessarily have anything to do with getting what we want and what we desire.  But it has everything to do with being understood, being comforted.

I believe God has a hand in every part of my life, but I also believe there are certain things that just have to be let alone.  I was never promised a perfect life, as I am so very far from perfect, and as this world is just so broken.

What I do know, however, is that I am heard, I am comforted, and I am loved.  Regardless of the outcome. 

This, my friends, is the beauty of GRACE.

I love a story of healing.  I love to feel like my prayers changed an outcome.  I wish they could have changed Kathryn's.  But sometimes, as much as I hate to acknowlege it, they just don't.  They can't.  It's not for us to make the call.  It's for us to know that we are heard and understood regardless of what the call is in the end.