Last year, Bob and I noticed a pattern of troubling behavior from our son Connor. He is normally a sweet and joyful child, so his outbursts of anger and defiance were out of character. We tried disciplining him in different ways, but no matter what we did, nothing seemed to work. I wanted to write his behavior off as a normal stage of development, just a facet of his emerging independence . . . but it almost appeared as if something else was taking over and driving him. Something didn’t feel right, and I was concerned about what was going on in my sweet boy’s heart. I truly did not know what to do . . . so I got on my knees in prayer. I asked God to form a kind and obedient heart in Connor, to deliver him from any evil, and to give me wisdom to know how to best address the problem.
A month or two later, I woke up in the middle of the night from a disturbing dream. In this vivid dream, evil had . . .
My whole life, everyone taught me that prayer was always the right response. Even Scripture says we are to “pray without ceasing,” and though this directive felt a bit daunting, I fully believed God designed us to be people of prayer. I believed we were to pray with faith and boldness, and to persist in our petitions until we got a breakthrough. Isn’t that what the parable about the unjust judge teaches, that we are to “always pray and never give up?” (Luke 18:1-8) However, there are two distinct times in my life when I am certain God told me not to pray. They both surprised me, and they both redefined my understanding of Him.
The first time was at my work. As a physician assistant, I often have opportunities to pray with my patients. It is a privilege and a joy every time I connect someone with the love of God through prayer. I believe my heart was right in doing this, and it often brought peace and encouragement to the patients. However, one day . . .
When my son Connor was four, we bought him a Lego Star Wars book. He loved to just sit and look at all the pictures. One day I found him frantically turning the pages. When I asked him what he was doing, he replied “I’m trying to find the page with Princess Leah in a bikini!” I giggled, thinking God must just wire boys that way.
Two years later, Connor was headed on field trip to the beach and I was going as a chaperone. Connor asked me, “Mommy, can you please wear that two piece bathing suit?” I told him I was not going to wear that suit on a school field trip, but I asked him why he wanted me to wear it. He said, “I just think it looks pretty on you.” At the time, I thought this was sweet, especially for him to think about his Mommy. About a month later, Connor . . .
It has been a rough week.
What are we supposed to do when our dreams are crushed and our heart’s deepest desires left unfulfilled? Life doesn’t always hand us what we want. It can leave us grieving, longing for something untouchable.
God graciously granted us a child in 2008 after years of trying to conceive, including five rounds of fertility treatments. Connor brings great joy into our lives so I do not mean to minimize the gift he is by sharing our recent struggles . . . but we really wanted another child. I had vivid dreams about positive pregnancy tests and nursing my newborn in the hospital, but now after five more fertility treatments and a miscarriage, we are heartbroken. Hundreds of shots and thousands of dollars later, still no baby.
Since this round of fertility treatments did not work, I found myself questioning . . .
I am deeply saddened when I look at the moral decline of our nation . . . not just because I am concerned about our children's future, but also because I see the pain and brokenness in the lives of so many people. Many are searching for love and acceptance, and the last place they are finding it is in the church. This should not be! Churches were not meant to be Country Clubs where like-minded people gather; they are supposed to be safe havens where the hurting and the outcast are welcomed with love. Jesus said . . .
