"Must be the clouds in my eyes..."

This is kind of a Memory Monday post about my 24th birthday... and the faith crisis that arose for me in that season.

This photo was taken February 18, 2008... technically the day after my 24th birthday, celebrating with my Tulsa lifegroup friends at Elephant Bar, a restaurant that has long since closed down!

It appears that I celebrated with the fam + Charlene and Kristin in OKC on my actual birthday... that crowd feels like something I would still choose today. =)  Then I had a party with dinner and cake with Scott & Kim, Allie & Caleb, Mark & Natalie, Kristin, Bobbi, Marcy, and Natalie Lovenburg on the 18th!

Of course, what I remember most vividly about that particular weekend and Monday night is not captured in the smiley birthday pics above.  My family had gone to visit our family friend, Daniel Minnich, in the hospital on the morning of my birthday that weekend.  I remember a number of specific things about that visit that I don't really feel at liberty to write about here.  A virus had caused Daniel to go into a coma on Valentine's Day.  No one knows exactly what caused it or why he became septic.  It all happened fast.  But he was in the hospital long enough for the church to rally and pray.  And personally, I prayed as earnestly as I have ever prayed for someone to be healed, really believing that God had to move since so many people were praying in faith for him to be healed -- (my theology has improved a lot since then).  

That Monday morning (2-18-2008), "Grandad Doc," my Dad's father, died.  He lived a very long life and most of his grandkids never really knew him very well, and I remember mostly feeling sad about all that he missed out on by pushing people away.  Then I got a call from Mom during that party on the 18th telling me Daniel passed away.  He was just a bit younger than me, and with our dads being close friends, our families had gotten together several times a year since we were born - Super Bowl parties and summer cookouts and Dirty Santa Christmas parties and such.  

He was the first person I knew in my age range that died.  I had *just* celebrated turning 24, and I remember that it struck me very profoundly that Daniel never would.  That was tragic and hard to process.  (And obviously hard to go back to the party after that phone call.)  Natalie G. could read my expression and knew exactly what happened from all that we'd already talked about, and she was a really comforting/insightful person to talk to on the drive home.  We had a long car chat about grief and loss and healing and God's will, etc.  Then I ate way too much leftover cake, feeling mad at God and very confused about all that He was doing... 

This photo is Daniel and his fiance, Kelly.  They were planning a June wedding, but nothing went according to plan.  *This post title is from Elton John's song, Daniel, which has been stuck in my head for a few days: "Your eyes have died, but you see more than I. Daniel, you're a star in the face of the sky... And I can see Daniel waving goodbye. Oh God, it looks like Daniel...  Must be the clouds in my eyes."

...In my life, all of this took place about 7 months after the letter that brutally ended my closest friendship and led to me becoming an outcast with the main group of friends I had in Tulsa that first summer.  (This = my last picture with Josh, hanging out at 9121 just before he left for the Ghana mission trip with ORU.)

And right in that same time frame was Blake's diagnosis and brain surgery.  The feeling of partial facial paralysis was familiar to me after having Bells Palsy, so I was emotionally invested in praying for his healing.  The doctors said there was a good chance he may recover his ability to smile, but it never happened.

A little snippet from a chapter on that season in my unfinished memoir book project:

A couple months after receiving the letter, I remember seeing a group of girls from that college friend group walking toward me, all laughing and talking with each other.  One of them obviously noticed me and whispered something, then they all tried to pretend they were really engrossed in their conversation and did not notice me.  We were the only people approaching each other in a very long hallway, and I knew turning around would only make things worse.  I took a deep breath, then we passed without speaking a word to each other... me on one side, their group on the other.  I could hear them laughing about it being awkward as soon as we passed each other, and I forced myself not to look back.  They probably went on with their day without giving it much thought, while I barely made it to my car before having a panic attack.  I had become a social pariah, and as a deeply relational person, that combination of isolation and shame was truly awful.  I struggled with so much anxiety after that about the possibility of running into Josh or any of those friends again.  For quite a while, I watched out for their cars in every parking lot, and I switched grocery stores and doctor’s offices in the effort to avoid another awkward moment.  The whole thing was exhausting and soul crushing.

Not long after the letter, my cousin received a devastating medical diagnosis that would affect the rest of his life.  And that terrible news was followed shortly by the news about our family friend, Daniel.  I have called that season "the trifecta," and it was the first time I had gone through a serious personal faith crisis.

Back then, I mistakenly believed that praying with sincere and strong faith basically ensured that God would show up and miraculously heal the person you prayed for.  I happened to be running low on friends, so I had lots of extra time to pray.  And in the middle of my brokenness, I prayed fervently for my cousin and for Daniel with every ounce of faith I had left in me.  I felt convinced that God would move and things would get better for them.

Then things digressed in both cases.

Daniel's mom was standing in faith for healing, as well.  And when we learned that he died, I felt so abandoned and confused and angry with God.  It scared me to feel that way, to question things I had believed all my life.  I began to wonder if perhaps my prayers might be falling on deaf ears the same way my phone calls to former friends were now being blocked and ignored.  I wrestled with so many questions in that season, most of them boiling down to whether God was truly good and whether He still loved me.

❤ ❤ ❤

It is not an exaggeration to say that I begged God for my former friends to change their minds, for Daniel to be healed, and for my cousin’s paralysis to be temporary.  He had other plans.

And I won’t sugarcoat the fact that it took me a long time to climb back up and work through all of this...

A long time to forgive people who had moved on without apology.
A long time to reach out and build new friendships.
A long time to feel close to God again and develop a deeper, more mature faith.

I wish I could tell you one specific moment or secret that changed everything, but it was several little things that gradually brought me back into the light.  And honestly, God is not big on using formulas anyway.  His work with us is always intensely personal.

It is amazing how much damage toxic theology can do to someone’s heart and view of God.  And to be clear, believing we can control God with our prayers is extremely toxic and false.  The insinuation that people who are suffering should simply muster up stronger faith and things will change, or that their illness is the result of a lack of faith is destructive and untrue.  This line of thinking denies God’s sovereignty, AND it puts a really unfair burden on people God loves who are already suffering and hurting.  In addition, it often results in us feeling unreasonably angry with God in the end for not honoring a promise He never actually gave us.

God listens to our prayers.  He knows our hearts.  He cares deeply, and He loves us.  But His sovereign will always prevails, and it will not always be what we have asked Him for.  Not everyone we love will be healed, but that does not mean our prayers are pointless.  There will be times when we have to trust God's heart toward us and believe by faith that He is still good in the middle of our very fallen world.  His ways are higher than our ways.  And He is able to see the future purpose when we can only see the present pain.

We serve a mighty God who performs great miracles of healing.

Sometimes they are tangible and external and thrilling.

And other times, He quietly heals our hearts. 

“I know the sorrow and I know the hurt
Would all go away if You'd just say the word.
But even if You don't, my hope is You alone.”
~Mercy Me, Even If