I was standing at the front of the classroom with my arms held high, singing “The Old Rugged Cross,” with approximately 50 fourth graders. They held their small songbooks and sang so sweetly in broken accents. My heart was lifted high in worship, my mind was clear, and my soul felt a deep peace—the kind that passes understanding.
That’s when I saw him.
He stood in the back of the room, on the sixth row, a head taller than the other young boys. Like all the others, he held a songbook in his hands. But he held his closer than the rest. He held his songbook so close to his face that it touched his nose.
Blindness doesn’t care about the fourth grade or the songbook, it strikes anyway.
As we sang, I felt the conviction of the Lord—
“Pray for him,” he said.
My mind began to race with excuses and doubts and fears, but the Lord reassured the peace in my soul and spoke again:
“Pray for him. Put your hands on his eyes and pray for healing.”
Still, I did not obey. The minutes passed and the songs were sung. I prayed, the children prayed, and the school day ended. The conviction was clear and heavy in my heart but I willed it away.
As the boy gathered his things to leave, the Spirit spoke again and said,
“GO. Put your hands on his eyes and pray, or you will sit in the guilt of your disobedience.”
So I went. I ran out to the hall and called his name—when he turned I asked him, “Do you believe that God can give you sight?” He nodded hesitantly. I asked if I could pray and ask the Lord for healing, and he nodded again, hesitantly.
So, I put my hands on his eyes, closed mine, and prayed boldly in the name of Jesus.
I prayed every day that month.
Every day.
And when the vans pulled out of the school gates, the boy stood in the field waving as we passed by.
Still stuck in the fourth grade.
Still lacking the money for a surgery that is necessary but not guaranteed.
Still blind.
That was 5 months ago.
You know, the Bible says that a man who doubts is like a wave blown and tossed by the wind.
That’s odd.
Because I didn’t feel a thing.
I felt completely unmoved.
I walked effortlessly through the passing days, unmoved by the needs of others, unmoved by the truth of the Gospel, and unmoved by the conviction of the Spirit.
It didn’t feel like being blown and tossed by the wind. It felt like being beaten over and over by the waves of the sea, and remaining unmoved.
3 months after, I found myself walking through a small village 2 hours outside of Phnom Penh, Cambodia. Our hosts took us from house to house, introducing us to friends and families living in tall, stilted houses. As we turned left down a dirt road, our host began to tell us about the boy we were going to visit. This boy suffers from what the locals call
“a problem of the eyes.”
My eyes (which had been glued to the dirt road almost permanently) shot up.
All the way to the boys house, I stared, wide-eyed, at our host as he explained how the boy was born severely under-developed, and they had taken him to the doctors in the city but none could help his case.
Minutes later, I stood looking into his sweet face– desperately hoping for a miracle on his behalf. He buried his face in his mother’s shoulder, but when his eyes met mine something deep inside of me was moved.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as the familiar conviction of the Spirit welled up inside my soul.
“Pray for him,” he said.
I squeezed my eyes shut tight and let my heart break. I remembered the face of the blind boy in India, and I felt the familiar weight of unanswered questions.
“No,” I whispered.
Doubt clouded my mind, but reckless hope flooded my heart.
“Pray for him.”
In desperation, I surrendered any expectation of physical healing and I prayed with all of my might for the little boy’s soul–
I recklessly proclaimed:
“Father, I know your heart and I know your power. Heal this boy in the name of King Jesus! Heal him now, in this physical earth, or heal him eternally and bring him into your everlasting kingdom. In either case, I command the enemy to release what is yours– this boy is yours because you have purchased him at a high price.“
The Lord healed my broken Spirit that day.
It was in that moment, in that prayer, that I realized: in my desire to see the Lord’s faithfulness in these moments, I had refused to acknowledge his eternal faithfulness.
In my desire to see the Lord’s miraculous work of healing in India, I refused to acknowledge the miraculous work of healing he has promised and is faithfully bringing to fruition in heaven.
We waved goodbye to the boy and his mother– and he smiled.
He was not healed that day.
You know, when the friends of the lame man lowered him through the roof to rest in front of Jesus, he was not healed.
Luke 5 says that Jesus saw his faith and immediately forgave his sins.
When the Pharisees began to question by what authority Jesus forgave sins, he said to them,
“So that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins, I say to [the lame man], rise up and walk.” (Luke 5:17-26)
The Lord doesn’t heal for the sake of humanity. He heals for the sake of FAITH. So that we may KNOW.
Friends, we already know that healing is the will of the Father’s heart– if it weren’t so, he wouldn’t be preparing a place for us right now that is void of pain and death. He desires healing and he has already provided the fulfillment of that desire by providing the hope and promise of heaven. And who am I to hold him to an expectation that is outside of his specific promise to me?
Later that evening, I wrote:
“Father, I trust you in all of your ways. My expectations of you have been sinful, and I repent in the name of Jesus. When healing looks like heaven, when satisfaction looks like heaven, when safety looks like heaven, I WILL TRUST YOU. I will remain faithful. I will obey you, Spirit.” [1/13/2016]
And I felt it again:
that peace that passes understanding. That peace I felt with my hands held high in worship. That peace I had longed for every day since.
