How God Transforms Our Weeping and Praying

Our Pastor shared with us yesterday that Denise Sproul, wife of R.C. Sproul, Jr., needs chemotherapy or hospice care. Yet, this dear mother of eight is too weak for the chemo right now. This news pressed heavy upon me, and I simply had to leave the room.

Sitting in our little "cry room," I gave it new meaning as I cradled my little one in my arm and rocked and cried for this family and for every loss we ourselves have known this past year. You see, the grief is still there, and it's right near the surface most every day.

And I prayed, hard and tear-filled prayers. I prayed like someone does when you know a glimpse of another's struggle. I prayed like I did when I just knew God was going to heal Michele. I prayed like I did when I realized God might be taking away the very baby we had prayed for and rejoiced over. And I prayed like someone who knows very well that God's best is often what we fear most.

Had I not ever seen Michele sick, without hair, counting medicines, trying to keep her food down, too weak to walk a flight of stairs....just battling this cancer (and these were all good days), my ability to weep with her would have been such an impoverished offering compared to walking along with her, even for a few days, and witnessing what her life was like.

When I hear of a Mama who's suffered a miscarriage, I'm cut to the core. I weep for the one I don't even know, and I pray for her. Hard.

Yes, we still weep with those who weep even though we haven't known their sorrow, but when God moves us, through our own suffering, from "That must be a horrible thing to go through," to "That is a horrible thing to go through," we comfort and we pray in a different way.

And that's what I thought about as I stood at my kitchen sink, remembering R.C. Jr.'s words this morning that he was weary, but he knew Jesus was watching over his wife and children. I've never even met this family, but I have wept this morning for them, and I'm sure, for me, too. It reminded me of what the body of Christ should be like and how often I fail to make it that way.

Suffering transforms our praying from a quick, "Lord, please heal this woman and comfort this family," to passionate, tearful pleas, to wrestling, to praying with a fervency that only comes as we pass through our own God-ordained fiery trials.

Suffering transforms our tears, too. I remember sharing about my Dad's death and God's providence in that whole affair with some brothers and sisters in Christ, and not of them wept with me as I shared. I felt exposed and very alone. Because sometimes the best gift we give to someone who is grieving is to simply cry with them, and sometimes the only way we're able to do that is to have suffered ourselves.

I'm not saying that our tears and prayers aren't important if they don't come from a heart that has suffered like someone else has. Every tear and every prayer for our brothers and sisters in Christ is such a gift!

I am saying it is a gift from God that He transcends our sufferings beyond our own four walls and hurting hearts and uses them as instruments to minister with deep compassion to our fellow saints. We can remember this and praise Him for it, giving Him glory as we weep and pray for our brothers and sisters in Christ.

With love,
Trisha


***I thank you in advance for your prayers for this dear family.