Between Faith and Fear

Tears gushed, relentlessly, carving red, saline paths down my cheeks, splashing salt across my tongue and smudged wet and sticky across the back of my hands as I flailed to wipe them away. "Idiot! You're in a supermarket parking lot! Turn it off!"

I was waiting for my mom. They had come into town after Christmas to celebrate the holidays. She was buying the necessary items to fondue at my sister's house that evening. It was also the week we had found out we would be having a baby girl and that she had genetic complications which could mean as little as a few extra digits or as much as a non-viable trisomy - ending her life moments or days after she left the womb.

I had traversed all the stages of grief in a short time. The last couple days had been spent threatening God - that if He were to take my baby from me I would walk away from ministry, from His call. I had informed Him that I had endured enough for ministry, and this would be the last straw.

But as I sat in the car that afternoon, the song "Oceans" by Hillsong United came over the radio. It was the line, "I am Yours, and You are mine," that opened the floodgates. So many times over the years as I have faced trials or fears He has whispered, "You are mine." And in that moment His heart said, "Wouldn't I be enough? Even if she were taken from you, am I not enough? Are you mine?" And I broke under the truth that He would still be my God - even if I had to go through the worst pain I could imagine. I would still serve Him and He would be ENOUGH. Big enough. Strong enough. Present enough. Patient enough. Loving enough. Healing Enough. Lord enough to take me through. "I am Yours. You are mine." And so there, in that supermarket parking lot, waiting for my mother, I surrendered my baby girl to the will of my loving, sovereign Abba Father.

Little did I know that just months later my heart would walk a similar path, this time with my mother.  Stage 3 mesothelioma. Rare - incurable. Months they gave her at first, but the specialists knew more and were performing cutting-edge surgeries. They could offer her years. YHWH has opened doors and gone before us. He has given us hope and assured us of His hand. And yet, the flames of fear lick the bottom of my heart, searing my psyche. Ten hours of surgery is a long time for any healthy person. Tomorrow will feel like forever. But today I heard it again - the song. "I will call upon Your Name, and keep my eyes above the waves. When oceans rise my soul will rest in Your embrace. I am Yours and You are mine."

This time the words that stood out were, "You've never failed, and You won't start now."

Tonight thunder shook the world outside my tiny window and lightning traced lines across the sky so bright I wondered if one might not enter the room and leave an angel standing at the foot of my bed. I felt the heart of God reminding me of what He has done, who He is and whose I am. So, holding my healthy baby girl in my arms, I surrendered my Mommy to the hands of my Savior.

For, just as I, she is His. He has never failed. He has never abandoned. He has never betrayed. And He is enough. Holy. Worthy. The final step in the dance between faith and fear is surrender. We take it many times in this life - but the first breath after that seeming defeat is sweet, sweet peace. And He is still on His throne.