The Cry of Faith at 1:11

Last Sunday a family in our community had a tragic accident with their 8-year-old daughter Marissa. Since then she has been unresponsive and clinging for life on earth. The family cried out for prayer. Ever since, our community has been holding their breath, praying, hoping, singing, believing, held a vigil as they’ve been uplifting little Marissa and her family.

Whether you know the family intimately, from church, work, from passing or other, you know them now if you’ve been privileged to read one of their many posts they’ve put out on Facebook.

If you’ve wondered why someone would follow a reality TV show, this is one of those times where this family’s reality is real as people have been allowed to spread the truth of their pain and faith.

If you’ve questioned the benefits of technology, this is one of those times where goodness spreads like wild fire as the FB page or email on my phone goes ding, ding, ding, as people continually share, write, and prayer for this family.

I’m one of those people that know of them but can’t claim to know them intimately, and still I’m affected. Their tragedy grabbed me. I have become swept up in the current of hope and prayer.

Think of all the people this family is touching by sharing their painful truth.

Think of all the people that can relate to some piece of their story.

Think of all the people that are crying. Isn’t it better to cry together, pray together, sing together and hope together?

Isn’t this making the light of truth shine brighter?

When I was seven I lost my baby sister. I lost a best friend at twenty, I watched my cousin die of cancer and we watched my mother-in-law pass after we pulled her from life support.

And when we visited a good friend from church in hospice, during his last week we sat with him in his living room while his wife fed him ice cream. Well, because that’s what he wanted at 80 years old. He smiled that big Harry grin and gave two thumbs up as he continued to believe what his license plate claimed GOD-CAN.

And still life goes on.

But the question becomes how does my life go on? Do I continue to believe in the goodness of God, our Lord and his promise or do I become hardened?

I admit I get challenged, stretched, pulled, exhausted and tired. I admit I question God’s decisions. Perplexed I cry.

So when I heard the news of this family’s little Marissa, I was selfishly hoping for a miracle, for the family, the community and for me. I want to see pay-off for a parent who fights for their little girl’s life. I want to see redemption for the protection I didn’t get in an abusive house hold. It’s not fair I cry out.

When I read the latest report yesterday that at 1:11 today January 15, 2017, the parents will be pulling the plug on their little girl my husband and I wept openly. Then we prayed. Then cried some more.

I can only begin to imagine how hard that decision has been for the parents. Perhaps like Abraham asked to sacrifice his son.

I can only begin to imagine the strength and courage it took to make that decision as they pray for the unknown little girl who will receive Marissa’s organs.

I cried out into my living room, but she’s not dead yet! What if the miracle is after the plug support is pulled? What if the miracle is God breathes life into her without the machine? Because GOD-CAN?!

I’m always looking for things to make sense yet I know I shouldn’t.

In the middle of the parents cry this week their light of faith has shone so bright. Their boldness and honesty to share their real pain has knitted a community together in a way that only a tragedy can.

Perhaps that is the miracle.

I may be questioning, perplexed and sad but then I pause and realize I’m bringing my questions to our God, the one whose peace passes all understanding. The one who’s purpose is to outshine the darkness by spreading light and hope.

None of us know the hour our tour is done.

None of us know how our Lord will use our story.

But I believe He will say to the parents, “Well done good and faithful servant.”

None of us know the hour God’s miracle will reign or what that will look like.

But what I do believe is that at 1:11 this afternoon whether Marissa remains on earth or in heaven, there will be tears and cheers and singing everywhere and I believe God will say to her dad, you are a good good father.