The calcification of my heart was evident in my response to reading Mark. The motion of ticking off the method and not looking for the miracle was profound. With the Holy Spirit as my guide, I was in for a miracle expedition but my blurring vision had missed the invitation to intimacy.
A name is powerful. One of the biggest decisions we have as a new parent is to name a child. In that name is held all the hopes, dreams, and potential for our baby. It is their identity wrapped up in a word.
This week I have literally put into practise what I preached. As the days passed, our son’s health continued to deteriorate and each day James’s words echoed in my mind.
Some days are postcard perfect days. Then, every so often the weather turns. Unexpectedly, we walk out our door and we are confronted with hostility. Often, in these moments, if we look we can find hidden paths.
Prayer has not always been at the top of my priority list. Oh, I would use it when I needed it. I would treat it as my Monopoly ‘get out of jail’ card. If I had a fight, or I was broke, or sick... and I felt trapped, unable to figure it out, I would whip out a quick and frustrated prayer. Then I would go on my merry way, simply hoping for the best. In all honesty, my expectations that I would see my prayers answered were feeble.
I wonder if he felt the ache of the betrayal and rejection that was about to descend? The unfairness of the greatest moment on earth. I wonder if he hoped one would stay? Just one would hold true. His humanity would desire it, his divinity would surpass it.