God with us. He is with us.
Even today, when headlines shout “God Isn’t Fixing This” gun problem, carnage, this hateful, messy world, and I read that prayer is meaningless, a cop out, criticized to condemnation. I imagine satan smiling.
A lullaby plays through matching monitors as my own babies sleep. I see the Christmas tree decorated in our home. Immanuel. He came and will come again. God with us.
Born into a world that sought to destroy him; even from birth. Yet, He lived. Born into a world that cursed at and crucified Him. For us, He died. Born into a world that would rather solve problems without Him. Yet, He couldn’t be shut out or kept down. He is alive, and He listens. Ask me how I know. I’ll tell you…
My oldest woke, feverish. He wouldn’t look at me, sickness settled into his toddler body a week ago, striking hard.
Help us, Lord.
Running behind, I drove myself to my own doctor to check on his growing brother inside, almost 36 weeks along. At our last appointment, his heartbeat needed monitoring, and his body needed to flip.
I trust you, Lord.
My phone rang as I approached a stoplight, my husband’s voice spit out words that ran together… Pneumonia, flu test, and I listened to our son sigh – “I not feel good” in the background.
Parked and into my doctor’s office, I am walking quickly and praying a single sentence — I will praise you in everything. Father, Spirit, Son, I will praise you in the storm. In everything.
As I left the ladies room — I will praise you, Lord. As I waited to be weighed and brought back — I will praise you, Lord.
My nurse called my name. She asked me how I was doing. I cried as I spoke. I said it was hard; she hugged me. I said I trust, but it is hard.
My doctor came in and out came the monitor. Time to listen again.
Immediately, a quick and healthy heartbeat bounced around the room, and she smiled. I smiled. Thank you, Father.
Next, time to check his positioning. Another smile as she said, HIS HEAD IS DOWN!
Glory! Thank you, God!
And she asked what I had done to help him flip, and I told her — WE PRAYED.
We prayed. We did — his parents, along with his brothers, his grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins, his church family and friends. Together, we prayed.
Yet, it wasn’t what we did. It was what God did.
God hears us. Only His hands can flip a growing baby, without help, in the womb. Only His hands can hold onto a mother who is desperate for some relief and give it.
And I praise Him and continue to talk to Him about how grateful I am for such treasures and ask for Him to continue to guide the day before me and write this story. He is far better at it than I am.
I pull out my phone to call my husband and share good news. His voice is as rich as Thanksgiving, as he rejoices, and I am filled with joy.
He tells me our toddler does not have the flu but is fighting pneumonia now, and this is the prayer set before us. God, you are healer. We ask you for healing.
And we know, God is with us.
In a world that attempts to minimize Him, that has crucified Him, He continues to extend grace and love and redemption in His powerful works if we will open our eyes not to miss them.
God is with us. Always. And I will talk to Him now, the creator of the universe, because He even made that into a miracle. And I will listen to Him now, because I want to know Him on earth as we will in heaven. And I will not stop sharing His goodness to me, because even when tears fall, when this world falls, He does not. He will not.
This hard we face will always hurt; just ask me. Yet, there is hope. There is good news. Jesus has come. Immanuel. And for thine is the Kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen.
“The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”). Matthew 1:23