And this afternoon after I put my kids to take their nap I came to check my email and had to go back to that blog of Beth's.
A dear friend has been diagnosed with Lymphoma and my heart aches. I'm in shock and I can't even imagine what he must be feeling now.
So...for all my friends who need this encouragement, please say a prayer for my friend and read on...and remember God knows and is greater than everything this world can throw at us.
"God has healed all of us of many things but, in His great purposes, we can only grab the hem. Even a miracle of instant restoration from a terminal disease is still just a hem of healing.
One day we will trade the hem for the real Him. No more pressing through the crowd wondering if we're going to be among the few that see that kind of miracle. We will see Him. Jesus Christ, the risen King. We won't just touch the edge of His cloak. We will touch the God-man Himself in His spectacular immortal body but, significantly, one still bearing the scars of His visitation here. His wholeness is so utterly complete and infinitely perfect that we, upon the very sight of Him, will be made whole as well.
This, Beloved, is what we live for. Not for just another day here. But for that very day there.
Several months ago, Melissa had insisted upon going with me to have a dye test to follow up a suspicious mammogram. (No rumors please. I do not have breast cancer. Because my mother died with it, however, I never get the luxury of drama-less annual check-ups.) We were sitting in the waiting room and a rack was within arms reach offering all manner of brochure on various cancers. Melissa took one out after another and glanced over them, shaking her head. She looked up at me with that classic expression of hers and said, "Life is brutal, man."
We both sat silently for just a moment.
Then she said one of the most profound things I've ever heard.
"He knows it's scary to be us.
"Yes, He does. Yes, He does. He does NOT take the fact lightly that we go through medical tests to see if we have a raging cancer. He does NOT take lightly that some of you are secretly fearing that the monster has come back. He does NOT take lightly that some of you are going through the cancer treatments of your own children. I had to pause and put my hand over my mouth on that one. Holding back the tears.
Son of David, have mercy on us! You know it's scary to be us! It's almost too much here, Lord. It's almost too much.
And the thunder crashes in the heavens and the earth grows dark in the middle of the afternoon and a man, beaten to a bloody pulp, cries from a cross between two thieves, "It is finished!"
And death is overcome.
One day, Sweet Darling. ONE DAY. We will trade that hem for the real Him and there will be no more sickness. No more death. No more sadness. We will all be healed.
Beth Moore, LPM - April 10, 2009