By Sister Araujo
This past May, my family and I received some devastating news regarding the health of one of my sons. While my flesh rebelled against the medical report, my spirit man held on to the fact that all of my boys were healed. For several years, I had lived and operated in that belief.
Within a week, my husband and I whisked my son to Minnesota for a second opinion. I spent more time on my knees that week than I had in my life. These doctors were the best of the best: the best bone marrow transplant doctor and the best neurologist – they were the best in the world concerning my son’s rare condition. Even then, I had hope. But it wasn’t in God. It was in the doctors and what they could do for my son.
When the doctors went over my son’s MRI with me, I felt as if I had stepped into a vacuum and the very breath was snatched from my body. I couldn’t breathe. No matter how hard I tried to grasp my next breath, I couldn’t. My husband had to support me, for my body felt like jelly and wouldn’t hold my weight. Someone had tied a millstone to my neck and it dropped into the very depths of my soul. Immediately, images of my father lying in a hospital bed in my mother’s sitting room filled my brain. I couldn’t see God. I saw my dad, sick and dying from this disease. I saw the doctors with their stoic faces, deprived of compassion, unable to save my son. And I saw my son, oblivious to all that was going on around him, being a happy kid.
Even as we return to Virginia, I knew myself. I knew that I needed to hold on to God as tightly as I possibly could. But I drew away from Him and family and friends. Nobody knew what I was going through. Nobody could relate. The devil is a liar and he wanted to separate me from the One who could heal my baby, the One who was able to deliver me out of the pit of depression I was quickly sinking back into. And that man was Jesus.
I began to cry out to Him, not caring how I looked or how I sounded. My soul needed Him and Him alone. I made myself read His word and I made myself pray. Slowly, the grief and pain began to ebb away and He replaced it with His joy and peace. I don’t know the future and I don’t know how God plans to move in this situation. I do know that His plans for me and my family are for good and not evil. And like the three Hebrew boys facing a fiery furnace, I know that my God is able to heal my children.
During one of the medical appointments in Minnesota, my son had to get a spinal tap and had to be sedated for the procedure. The nurse explained that once it was over, my son would come out of the sedation a little disoriented. When they brought him back to the recovery room, my heart warmed at the sight of him. He looked so peaceful. All of a sudden, he jumped up in the bed and yelled, "Thank you Jesus! Hallelujah. God is good." He then took two fingers, placed them behind his left ear and gave a loud praise moan. If that wasn’t confirmation that God is going to take care of my son, I don’t know what is!
In this life we are going to have trials and tribulations, but be of good cheer for Jesus has overcome them all.