One night, as my husband slept beside me, I lay in bed weeping. That day he hadn't been with me, like normal, for the ultrasound.
I dreaded the ultrasounds. Every few weeks I returned to the cold ultrasound table to be scanned. Each time my son's deformity grew worse. More of his brain had grown outside of his head.Â
"It is out of our hands. There is nothing we can do," the high risk doctor told me that day.
My son had a large opening on the back of his skull. An Occipital Encephalocele. A sure diagnosis for death or severe mental and physical disability according to the doctors.
I was disappointed with God.
Our fervent prayers for healing were going unanswered. I was struggling so hard to have faith. Fighting to trust in God's goodness. Yet, my eyes saw his worsening condition every time I looked at the ultrasound screen. Every word from the medical community was negative.
In bed, I began to cry out to God in raw desperation. Through tears I poured my heart out to him. Everything. All that I was feeling. My disappointment. My pain. My desires. My fears.
Suddenly. Amazingly. I found myself in another place altogether. I wasn't in my bedroom anymore...and I wasn't dreaming.
Looking around, I saw that I was laying on an exam table in a dimly lit ultrasound room.
Beside the cot a monitor screen glowed. Projected upon it was an image...my son's deformed head.
My eyes were drawn to the screen like a magnet. In that moment, on the other side of the bed, I felt someone grasp my left hand.
Automatically, I assumed it was my husband. I tore my eyes from the screen and turned my gaze to the one holding my hand.
Jesus.
He wore a simple shepherd's robe. In his left hand he held a staff. I was acutely aware of the warmth of His right hand as it squeezed mine. Glancing down I looked upon his sandaled foot. My gaze was drawn to the large scarred hole my eyes found there.
At that moment I knew that Jesus fully understood the sorrow of my heart. He wept with me. He was by my side bearing my sorrows.Â
Through revelation He began to open my mind to understanding.
Just as I dearly loved this first born son in my womb, my Nathan.....God had a first born too. His one and only son.
God knew what it was like to see his precious son suffer. He wasn't a stranger to what I was going through. As a Father He experienced what it was like to anticipate the death of a loved child. He personally knew what it felt like to lose a first born son.
He loved me. He went through all of that grief and loss for me. To pay for my sin. To mend the brokenness and separation that sin caused. To bring me near. Into relationship with Him.
If God would do that for me, how could I not give my baby to Him? His Fatherly love for my son was even greater than my own. How could I not trust Him with the outcome of His choosing? He gave all for me. In turn, wouldn't I return His love by giving my all back to Him?
Still holding my hand Jesus spoke, "Even though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, do not be afraid, for I am with you. My rod (to guide) and my staff ( to protect) will comfort you."
At once, I was back on my bed in my own room.
The Lord had visited me.
I still don't understand why God granted sinful, unworthy me to see Jesus with my own eyes and to touch Him with my own hands. That is a night I will never forget as long as I live.
As I have pondered this encounter, I have come to believe that our unabandoned, wholehearted seeking. Our cries of desperation. Our mustard seed faith. They move the heart and hand of God on our behalf.
After that night, I knew Jesus was right beside me. Even if I couldn't see him. He was walking with me through the valley. With every heart rending report, He was there... holding my hand.
My prayer for those of you who are reading this is that you would know my Jesus. He is real. He is alive today. I pray that you would receive a heart revelation of the Father's love for you. May you come to take hold of the hand of Jesus and follow in His steps. He is the one who daily bears our burdens, sorrows, and pain. You are not alone. (Psalm 23)