A prayer for the broken

Sweet Lord, as my friend Sherry lies in the ICU, with tubes and monitors and so many things that are unknown, I lean towards You. Towards what is known.

I turn towards life. Towards the One who grants life and who isn’t fazed by its earthly limits. The One who sees past our finite measure of time and understands that there is so much more.

Though she is weak, You have the strength to bear all things. Though she is frail, You are unshaken and unbending. So I lean on You, the source of all power.

Though tests aren’t complete, I lean on your knowledge. Though I don’t understand the whys and hows, I can relax because You do. Though I don’t know what to expect, I know You are never surprised.

Though I don’t know anything—how her family can bear watching and waiting, how her body can withstand one thing after another, how much damage there’s been and if it is reparable—I remind myself, again and again, of the one thing I do know. You. You’re the God of the broken. The restorer of life. The source of forgiveness, the provider of hope, the healer with powers we can’t begin to fathom.

So as I picture her there, I’m redrawing the image in my mind to include You. Because though the room may seem sterile and empty, Your presence is great and fathomless. Though she may be still and unmoving, I imagine the active dialog in her mind. I imagine that You and she are communing. That words aren’t necessary. I’m remembering that You always heal the mind before the body, so I’m believing that in all the things that really matter, You have made her whole. She discovered, long ago, and in many different situations, that You can do what no one else can. That You can bring life when the only words people can whisper are those of death. That You can transform what the world sees as ashes into a thing of monumental beauty.

There are so many things we’ll never understand. Innumerable, uncountable, infinite questions.

But in every one of them, we already know the answer. You. The Mystery that has allowed itself to be revealed. The Character that is unwavering. The Hope that is our deepest longing. You. The One. The Only. The Lord God Almighty.

And we close our eyes. And we are assured that You have not left her. That You are cradling her gently, not missing a single heart beat, not missing a single tear.

And though our hearts cry out, our souls rejoice. And we wait, holding tight to You.

 

4 Responses to “A prayer for the broken”

  1. Lynn says:

    Sweetie
    A day after my 40th birthday
    After celebrating with loved ones
    I lay in a coma
    I was in a scan when Jesus came in the room
    He said”you will live there is work to do”
    I heard the Dr say he was out of tricks
    Next month I turn 60
    There has not been one day since that I haven’t suffered
    There has been much work done in the last 20 years
    I share this because your beloved friend is having conversation with her Lord
    He holds her and he knows her he loves her so much
    There is no way to measure
    Whether she lives or flies she is not alone
    GOD bless you honey and all who love her

  2. Bonne Steffen says:

    The people who walk in darkness
    will see a great light.
    For those who live in a land of deep darkness,
    a light will shine. . . .
    Isaiah 9:2
    That truth is only possible because of the One you so beautifully described. He is Sherry’s Hope and ours. Thank you, Kelly.

  3. Sharon says:

    Kelly,
    Evidence of the Holy Spirit is infused in every word of this prayer. You prayer is my prayer too for precious Sherry. Our loving heavenly father is caring for our sister.
    amen, amen and amen
    thank you Kelly.

  4. […] All we could do—literally all there was left to do—was pray. […]

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