Discover Challenge: Origin Story
A few days short of 20 weeks pregnant, my husband rushes me to the hospital. I trapse between the emergency department and labor and delivery, each trying to pass the responsibility to the other. My condition a nuisance and an inconvenience to them. When I’m finally accepted into the ER, an obstetrician begins his examination but not before his nurse lays out the reasons why she would rather have nothing to do with this situation. My bleeding, my open cervix, it is a terrible ordeal. It is too stressful for her, so she explains to me.
Partially because of blood loss and partially because of simple self denial, I wasn’t processing my current medical state. The baby was fine. Regular heart rate. I could feel her kicks, a gentle reminder that she’s still present. A necessary comfort amidst the news that my cervix was open and beyond repair.
Much to the doctor’s dismay, in spite of her threats, I refuse an abortion. I do not await anyone’s approval, not even my own husband’s. My decision is made and I would rather take the risk. Again, my daughter kicks comfortingly in agreement.
My husband and I have strong faith that God will work a miracle. I lay back in a pain medication induced stupor, tensing every muscle in my body, my thighs tightly woven in defiance.
I give birth and while I keep it together externally, deep down I wonder why God never showed up. Why did he not take this opportunity to reveal his majesty, his power? It would be the perfect testimony.
I felt this way for a few months. I pondered the question as I suffered silently. As I privately grieved my loss until God brought me face to face with my feelings. In those moments of deep fellowship, deep honesty, God’s love became even more active within me.
“Why weren’t you there, God.”
“Oh but I was.”
“Why didn’t you uphold your end of the bargain? I believed. I honored you in my decision making. Where was the miracle you promised? Why did she still die?”
That was the real question: why?!
And as His love enveloped me and he cradled my hurt in His loving arms, I realized that the miracle had occurred, it had happened within me. My daughter, Elisha, had been a miracle baby. I was just looking for that miracle in the wrong direction.
My cervix was not healed during my hospital stay. My daughter was not spared, and while you could be tempted to think how unjust God is, your feelings would be in error. A miracle of self-realization, identity, and purpose had been birthed and had lived that day.
27 years into my life, I experienced a kind of resurrection, of my gifts and ministry. 27 years into my life, I began my origin story.
The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good tidings to the poor; He has sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the acceptable year of the LORD, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn, to console those who mourn in Zion, to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified.” And they shall rebuild the old ruins, they shall raise up the former desolations, and they shall repair the ruined cities, the desolations of many generations. Isaiah 61:1-4 NKJV