I feel like I’m in good company to be able to say, Mother’s Day was a hard day for me. My parents had visited and after a slower paced morning, we decided to go to a new church in the afternoon for a worship service. Somehow we received the wrong information and ended up walking in just as they were finishing worship.
We slipped in the back and quieted our hearts, leaning into what the Lord was doing at the front of the beautiful stain-glassed sanctuary.
After they finished the last song of worship, they went directly into a time of sweet prayer to our Father. As the prayer was finishing, a man stood and walked toward the front. He whispered something to the Pastor and then was handed the microphone.
“I’m not sure who, but I feel like someone in this room needs to hear this story.”
As each word eased out of his mouth, I was silently desperate to hear a word from my Savior. On a day such as Mother’s Day, I just wanted to hear something from Him; some words of ease and comfort and encouragement.
I hung onto every one of his words, hoping this story was for me. He told a personal story of accompanying his wife to go in and receive a chemotherapy treatment, and talking with another patient there that they hadn’t seen before.
“Things weren’t happy that day. As most days when you walk into a ward set apart to inject people with chemicals to kill cells of their body, it wasn’t hard to find grief. But when we saw this woman, she radiated hope. We stopped to talk with her and she told us her lab workups weren’t looking great.
‘The doctors say it’s not looking good, but whose report should I believe? The doctors or the Healer’s?’”
He remembered the patient’s words with a smile and he paused for just a second. Hushed prayers and quiet ‘hallelujah’s’ sounded throughout the circular sanctuary.
“As we left her, she said again, but this time pointed towards my wife, ‘Whose report are you going to believe?’”
The words echoed deep into my heart and hot tears welled in the corners of my eyes.
“Whose report are you going to believe, Emily?”
In the world of infertility, we’re given a lot of possible prognoses, a lot of scary words thrown into the direction of our ears, with not much concern for the condition of our heart. The information can catch us off guard and take the breath right out of our lungs. They can send us reeling in different directions, unsure of the next steps.
If we’re honest though, all that the doctors can give us is a general (if not unknown) diagnosis, reports from bloodwork and scans, and possible avenues to move forward. But those doctors, friend? They didn’t create you. Your doctor wasn’t the One who knit you together in your mother’s womb.
Only God did that. And only your Heavenly Father, God Almighty, can provide you with accurate prognoses.
“Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.”
Don’t hear me wrong on this – I very much believe in the miracles of modern medicine and am so very grateful for the work of our talented and trained doctors. The difference here though is this – my hope is not laid on my doctors’ shoulders. My hope is stayed on my Heavenly Father’s. He made me purposefully and my heart is secure when it’s anchored to Him. I can take Him at His word because He has shown Himself overwhelmingly worthy of my trust.
“Some trust in chariots and some in horses,
but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.”
So, let me ask you this, whose report are you going to believe?
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” [romans 15:1]