The story I’m about to share is about how my faith failed.
Last summer I had an incredible opportunity of spending two months in Costa Rica working with a local church and school, I served with an incredible team of 14 beautiful women of god.
One day after our morning devotion, my teammate let us know she was going to go lay down and rest as her stomach was not feeling well. A few others and myself headed to the store to get her crackers and some Coke to help sooth her stomach. We checked in on our friend and delivered it, her stomach had not improved, and she was going to try and get some sleep. So we let her be.
Later on in the day, we checked in on her, only to find out she had started throwing up. I come to find her laying on the bathroom floor, too weak to get up. We try to make her more comfortable by bringing her mat and brought a laptop so she could try to watch a movie to pass time since she was bound to the bathroom, by this point it was getting late in the afternoon and she had thrown up several times and the pain in her stomach was worsening. By early evening the pain was too much. We knew it was time to get her to a doctor. Our team leaders called our friend who lived in the area, she called the hospital (which was more like a regular doctor’s office) and let us know an ambulance could come, but it could be a while before it gets there. So she decided to come pick us up and drive us there. So a fellow teammate, one of our leaders, and myself carefully brought our friend down to the car. And made our way to the hospital.
The car ride was less than 30 minutes, but it felt like an eternity.
I have never seen someone in so much pain. It was scary. My team was continually praying for her, her family back home was praying, the church we were working with was praying. I started to get frustrated with God. Asking questions like “Why won’t He heal her? Does He not see how many people care about her? Doesn’t He care about the pain she is in?”
We arrive at the hospital, we pull up front and slowly rush her inside. We get to the exam room, and our local friend communicated with the doctor and translated for us. The doctor could not immediately relieve the pain. He said it will go away in time, with the medications he prescribed. As we were waiting for the prescriptions to be filled, our friend continued throwing up, the pain persisting. We headed home. Luckily a bed was actually available where we were staying, so we carried her into the empty room, tried to help her get as comfortable as possible. An impossible task.
It was late in the evening, so my teammate who also came to the hospital, gathered both of our bedding, so we could be with her and make sure she is okay. Our friend had to take her meds every few hours. So we set several alarms throughout the night, to make sure it was done. It was a very restless and sleepless night. She spent the night in unbearable amounts of pain, still throwing up. I was mad, angry at God. I still couldn’t understand, how he could let my dear find suffer so much. I asked Him to help me understand. Was I doing enough? Praying enough? Did I have enough faith? Did I actually believe prayer was going to heal her?
We could not do any more, but we didn’t cease our prayers. My team rotated staying up with her and being there for her. Days passed, the pain barely seemed to ease up. I still didn’t understand why He let this happen, and for so long. I hated seeing her in writhing pain. I hated not being able to do anything for her, being helpless. I would’ve done anything to make it stop. There was nothing I could do. She slowly started improving, the meds finally kicking in. Her face regained color, she started to be able to keep liquids down.
That week was terrible. Mostly for my friend, but it was a hard time for me with my faith in God. Even though my friend got better, I still doubted. I believed my faith was not good enough. God taught me some powerful things during those days. Breaking down the lies I was telling myself. Letting me know that He was there the whole time.
My faith didn’t fail my friend.
God surely didn’t fail her.
God heard my prayers and answered. The only thing that failed was my faith in myself. I realized I hadn’t doubted God’s goodness or abilities. I doubted myself, I doubted my capabilities.
God doesn’t expect us to be perfect. He wants us to trust Him, and His plan. He wants us to join Him, not do it all on our own.
When you start to lose hope.
When your faith seems to falter.
When you start asking if Jesus even cares.
When you start to give up, God shows up.
Actually He shows you that He’s been there all along.
