Rescue

As I entered my third trimester, shadows loomed. I watched silent concern rise on doctors’ faces, complete with furrowed brows; phone calls and quiet conversations. The picture emerging from the shadows was not what I envisioned.

 An unsettled restlessness rose within me. Questions spun and tumbled over one another in my mind. 

“God, what are You doing? This isn’t the way the story is supposed to go, right? Right? If something is wrong, You’ll fix it before anything bad happens, right? You won’t let Your devoted servants suffer hardship, will You? You will rescue with a cavalry of warring angels, a Red Sea miracle, divine intervention, right?”

Perhaps. Perhaps not. 

My blissful bubble was bursting in slow motion. The robust set of boys I hoped for may not transpire according to my carefully constructed plans. It may not be anywhere close to what I had in mind. Could He allow difficulty, and it still be His will? 

Somewhere in my Christian life I picked up the notion that God’s people will not suffer long-term difficulty. Many people in Scripture did, but that was a different time and place.  Any problems would be short-lived because He would rescue with a squadron of warring angels, a Red Sea deliverance, or a miracle. Surely, He wouldn’t allow His faithful servants to endure long-term difficulty with no rescue, no staggering miracles. Would He?  There was deafening silence from the heavens and hard realities playing out in doctors’ exam rooms. 

Did I truly believe God was in complete control? If so, I had to believe whatever transpired in the remaining weeks of pregnancy was covered by His almighty hands. If something hard was about to happen, and there was no miracle—what then? 

Would this God to whom I’d pledged my life allow long-term hardship? He could, but He certainly wouldn’t, would He? That question bounced around in my mind as I remained on bed rest, crocheting baby blankets and watching the orange and yellow leaves dance against the stunning blue October sky.

My mind could not grasp the possibility of a life marked by hardship, medical difficulty, and especially a child with severe special needs. It was a bridge I could not cross then. I remained certain that He would rescue us from whatever difficulties might arise. He certainly wouldn’t take us that route.

There I hovered, in disbelief, unable to grasp what might play out in the remaining weeks of my pregnancy. I couldn’t fathom that He would take us down this hard road. What about the miracles? 

I’d read the stories of Job, Moses, Joseph, and Ruth all my life, but fast-forwarded past the years of suffering to the days of victory and restoration. In doing so, I missed something glaringly important. Those beautiful endings came on the other side of hard-fought battles and deep loss. I had focused on what God restored without considering all they had endured along the way. Without the battle, without the loss, there is no glory or restoration.

Glory is reserved for battle-weary warriors with mud on their boots, blood and sweat on their faces, and scars that tell the story of their journey. Restoration is for those who have suffered and lost much. 

The real question I wrestled with was that of suffering. Would He truly allow long-term hardship in my life, or would He rescue me? There were examples of both in Scripture. There was no guarantee of a life of difficulty or of rescue. 

I would have to trust Him. I would have to follow Him into the unknown with no guarantees. I would have to follow His lead into whatever lay ahead with no safety net beneath me other than the unblemished character of the One Who led me.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned, and the flame will not consume you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” Isaiah 43:1b-3.

The Eternal God promised to never leave me; His presence would hem me in behind and before. Even if He led me through churning dark rapids, He would be beside me in the waves. I would have to trust what He said, and follow where He led—with no visible safety net, no guarantees. 

It was unsettling, terrifying in fact.  

It seemed He planned to lead directly into the most unrelenting storm of my life, not out of cruelty, but for His own holy purposes. His way was to take me on a life-changing journey deeper than I could fathom. I could learn Him in unforgettable ways, only in a storm. I could know His presence; the whisper of His voice beneath the wind, the warmth of His breath upon me, and His arms about me in ways only known to those who have weathered storms together. 

I had no promise of a pain-free life, or assurance that my girlhood dream would be fulfilled. I had no promise of two healthy babies.  

However, I did have the Eternal God as my Guide and divine traveling companion. The Eternal God would become my intimate Friend, if only I would trust Him and let Him lead the way.  If He truly was who He claimed to be, I had nothing to fear. I had nothing to fear because of Who walked beside me.

I had the promise of the Eternal God who cannot lie as my sure and steady anchor. I walked in the holy presence of the Lord of All Creation. I would be safe through whatever storm lay ahead. I would be safe because of Who held me. I was safe because I was held in the everlasting arms of the Ancient of Days.