“He’s going to be okay.
No seriously, I know it.”
I was sitting in my best friend’s mom’s car sharing the revelation I had received from God that Leslie was indeed going to be okay.
With every ounce of her being she wanted to believe me, but in her eyes I could tell she was not about to get her hopes up.
It had happened all too often before and Ms. Sissy had every reason to expect the worst and was anticipating the negative report she so desperately feared.
Leslie was a miracle.
At the age of two, he was diagnosed with cancer – a cancer that almost took his life.
The parasitic disease took him literally to the brink of life as we know it (for those medically inclined, his skin was beginning to melt off of his body).
The doctors had come to her with a last ditch effort: an experimental drug that was either going to kill him instantly or begin to reverse his situation and begin to do some good.
I don’t know what mother should ever have to be put in this situation, but with supernatural faith, she opted to trust in this one remaining hope.
After what seemed like an eternity, the doctors returned with the news that Leslie had started showing signs of hope.
Several weeks later, Sissy left with her little boy, weak but healthier than he had been in a long time.
Leslie’s battle with cancer didn’t end there.
He developed a rare bone cancer – at the time only one of four recorded cases.
Again, Leslie was miraculously healed through the diligent work of doctors and much prayer.
With such a display of God’s power, it was still a mystery when, four years later, Leslie’s check up scans showed an abnormality.
The devastating nature of such news spread through him and his family like wildfire.
Leslie decided to return to Texas to seek a second opinion and another set of scans from his doctor there.
Having only been a part of Leslie’s life for the last two years, my reaction was perhaps the most stunned.
Yet, in this moment, I do not know that I have ever experienced God in the same way.
I followed the example of Gideon and asked the Lord for a sign.
Either Leslie was going to return with news that there was hope or we should all be preparing ourselves for the worst.
Some might call Gideon’s “fleece” example a faithless endeavor, but in my 15 year old mind, it was a test of faith.
I do not believe I was following a superstitious coincidence of events, I believe that the sign I was given was from the Lord – and I have never believed so strongly in something I could not explain than at that exact moment.
Leslie was going to be okay.
Scripture recounts several lists of spiritual gifts.
In the Greek “charisma” denoted traits that are exhibited by individuals through the power of the Holy Spirit either for a moment or a lifetime.
I do not claim to live with a supernatural faith, but in that moment, the Spirit of God filled my heart with the faith to believe God for another miracle.
Every logical bone in my body, even the counsel from trusted adults in my life could not persuade me adversely to this belief in my heart.
Leslie returned from Texas with another set of scans which, when put side by side, revealed that the abnormality was either falsely diagnosed or had been healed through the prayers of the saints.
Interestingly enough, this news did not surprise me in the slightest.
But praise God for his favor.
As I venture this next year around the world, I want to have that kind of faith.
I want to see the lame walk, the blind see, the dead brought back to life, even something as trivial as support coming in for me and my teammates.
Yet, right now, I struggle with that faith.
My logical mind explains it away.
My need for security tells me to stop trusting and face reality.
In short, I am terrified to put God to the test only to have it fail – not because God is not able, but because in my sinfulness I do not hear correctly the voice of God.
I do not ever want to present that I have a supernatural lucky charm at my disposal.
In my worldview, I can admit that God is capable of miracles.
Yet, in my heart, I fear the unknown.
I want God to use me, but I fear that when the time comes, I will be unworthy, unready or distracted.
I find it ironic that we consider “faith the size of a mustard seed” to be almost insultingly small.
Yet, as I see it, the scope of a mustard seed is grossly more than I can conjure under my own strength.
I had that kind of faith once.
I pray God blesses me with it again.
