When I was a young mother, my 8 month-old son fractured his skull pretty severely in an accidental fall. He didn’t even cry, he was so out of it. I remember racing to the hospital with him and his older sister, crying, praying, and telling him not to go to sleep. His pediatrician, after studying the tests and scans, told us that IF he lived, he would most likely be cognitively injured for the rest of his life. In those days (1986) they did not let the parents stay in the hospital room with their children, and my husband and I spent a sleepless night at home.
When I arrived back at the hospital the next morning, our son was lying in the hospital crib, his head swollen to twice its normal size. His hairline, which was normally at the nape of his neck, was on the top on his head. I knew God healed people miraculously in this day and age – I had experienced it myself – but my heart was shaking with fear. Nevertheless, we laid hands on his head, and prayed over him to be completely healed and restored in the name of Jesus. And then we waited. I worried that surely God would not answer me, because my being was filled with fear and devastation. I knew that the prayer of faith would save the sick, but I didn’t feel faith, I felt fear. And now I was afraid for a second thing, that the fear would disqualify my prayer as not being a prayer of faith.
However, the swelling in his head started to go down, and continued to go down all morning. By the time it was noon, his head was a completely normal size, he was standing up in his crib and trying to get the poor boy in the next bed (who had had his tonsils out) to play with him. When his doctor came in for his noon check, he was floored.
He said, “Well, there is obviously nothing wrong with this baby.”
We replied, “Does that mean he is okay and we can go home?”
He said, “I am ordering his discharge immediately.”
We said, “Oh, thank you so much doctor!” with complete relief and gratitude filling our voices.
Then he put his hands up in the air, and backed away. “Don’t thank me, I had nothing to do with this!”
And we took our son home, none the worse for wear. We had a follow up visit with our doctor the next month, and by this time our son had taken his first steps and was walking. The doctor was again, floored. He had never seen anything like it, where such a severe injury was completely erased, not only with no adverse effects, but apparently with accelerated advances.
Of course we praised God for His merciful answer!
I have often thought back to that miraculous 24 hours, and what it meant for the prayer of faith. I have come to believe that while we may experience the feeling of fear in a negative or difficult circumstance, that feeling is not the concrete reality that the enemy would torment us into believing it was. It is a feeling, after all – a fickle emotion, blown this way and that by nutrition, circumstances, or fatigue. But in our society, we are told to “listen to our feelings,” “trust our feelings,” and other such nonsense.
Meanwhile, the concrete reality, is trust in YHVH God and in His Word and promises. To not allow circumstances or emotions to move us from belief in Him or His Word. Being steadfast and firm, as an abstract concept, is rooted in Hebrew to the concrete object of the tent peg – the thing that secures the tent. Emotions come and go, but when we call on the name of YHVH when we are in trouble, despite the feeling of fear, that is a concrete action of faith. We are in essence saying, “I am not accepting the reality that the feeling of fear wants me to accept. Instead, I am taking the action of faith: I am calling on YHVH, I am reminding my heart of His promises, I am praying for the sick. I am doing His Word, instead of wallowing in the enemy’s lies and the emotions that come with those lies.”
That concrete action may not immediately erase the emotion of fear. But by it, you are asserting faith over fear.
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