My Need; His Power
“First responders should arrive soon on the scene. Be sure to clear the area.” A quick pound sounded and the first officer walked through our front door. His heavy black boots crossed the hardwood and quietly sank into the carpet, where our six-year-old daughter lay. The dusky blue tone on her lips brightened as if a pale pink lipstick was applied across her still mouth. One giant inhale and her breathing rhythms began to fill the stillness. I began describing the situation to the officer—a rote, scripted response I tuck away for these exact moments.
Our second-born daughter Blair lives with a rare, genetic mutation causing frequent, uncontrollable seizures. “Mommy, do you have to call the ambulance?” jumps quickly and calmly off her sister’s tongue.
The Lord recently began revealing his desire to use the many weaknesses and needs of this unexpected life affected by severe disability to put his power on full display. My heart often mutters prayers my mind could not have imagined before—and on this night, amidst a severe seizure and a momentary lifeless body, the Spirit whispered a hope that these first responders might experience something unique upon entering our home—a refuge where the Holy Spirit shelters some of life’s darkest moments. A hope for the words of the Heidelberg Catechism painted above our mantle to bring peace into a chaotic situation:
“What is your only comfort in life and death? That I am not my own, but belong with body and soul, both in life and death, to my faithful savior Jesus Christ…without the will of my Heavenly Father, not a hair can fall from my head…”
The Lord continues to open my eyes to his desire to use Blair’s uniquely dependent life to welcome others into our need, often into our home, and into an experience of his saving grace. He handcrafts each opportunity for us to share the hope we have in Jesus Christ. On this broken side of Heaven, so often His power and peace shine brightly amidst the backdrop of fear, grief and sadness. I’m slowly learning to view my need as a beautiful way to invite others to stand in awe of the one true God.
Godly Companionship
The ambulance chauffeured Blair to the local children’s hospital where she underwent further testing. A dear friend reached out, knowing the situation, and asked for specific ways to pray. Reluctantly, I shared with her my temptation toward loneliness throughout prolonged hospital stays—consecutive days and nights spent in one tiny hospital room feel quiet, empty, and exhausting. Against my desire to exude strength and resilience, I chose to welcome her into my need for connection during these times. Over the course of ten days bedside with Blair, this friend texted me most mornings to check in. We FaceTimed nearly twice every day. She pushed into my need for friendship and consequently, saw firsthand how God answered her many prayers for Blair’s health. With each phone call, I shared with her the daily events, and she witnessed the Lord's faithfulness. She had a front-row seat to the miraculous power of Jesus Christ displayed through all the ways he orchestrated care for our daughter.
As I reflect on the ways in which this friend experienced God’s power in the valleys of my need, I see this pattern in other spheres of relationship. When Blair’s epilepsy deemed her unsafe to continue her hippotherapy (therapy on horseback), we sought out a new weekly Occupational Therapist to supplement. These therapy sessions quickly became fertile ground for deep conversation about our lives, creating room for the Gospel and further spiritual dialogue. Blair’s therapist accepted an invitation to our Christmas Eve service at church and now often attends worship with our family on Sunday mornings. God continues to use our need to put his initiating power and love on full display.
As my heart softens toward accepting the care of those around me, the Lord beautifully blesses my need in unexpected ways. A few years ago, with slight hesitation, we made the choice for Blair to attend the kids’ ministry during the Sunday morning service. We packed her diaper bag with spare clothes and rescue medications, and hoped for her time spent with peers to prove meaningful. The first few weeks felt odd—the lack of responsibility for one hour on Sunday morning and the ability to worship with lessened distraction; a chance for her to join her sister and peers in Bible lessons and music. However, it didn’t last long. Blair’s seizures intensified a few weeks later and we felt it best for her to rejoin us upstairs.
A Teenage Gift
Meet Emma. Emma is fifteen and chooses to serve many Sunday mornings in kid’s ministry. Emma’s mom mentioned to us how much Emma missed having Blair in her classroom, to which I reacted with an invitation for Emma to come into our home to spend time with Blair. (An invitation I’ve always feared offering, afraid of creating an uncomfortable silence or lack of response.)
To my surprise, we soon arranged a date and time. When Emma arrived, Blair was lying on her blanket, enjoying her favorite book. Emma warmly sat down beside her. For the next hour, I fought back tears of joy as this precious teenager engaged with my daughter. She talked to her and rubbed her brittle brunette curls. As I folded laundry nearby, I heard Blair vocalize in response to Emma’s voice and touch. In return, she experienced Blair’s affection and love in the unique ways of her design—a giggle and a squeeze of her hand. As we receive blessings through Emma’s friendship with Blair, I believe she experiences the beautiful love and joy of Blair’s creator.
As Jesus began his ministry, we find multiple references in the accounts of his closest followers to Jesus’ robe, specifically its hem. He welcomed the crowds close enough to press into the fabrics draped around his body. These gospels provide many testimonies of lives physically restored and spiritually transformed through a gentle touch. (Matt. 9:20-22;14:34-36, Mark 6:54-56, Luke 8:44-48)
How do we typically respond when others press in this close? Do we welcome their hand, or do we back away in self-sufficient pride? Instead of fearing added burden to others, how might our lives (and theirs) be transformed if we viewed our need as an opportunity to witness the healing power of our Savior? How might God delight to use the very weakness we fight to conceal, to invite others to experience his spiritual healing?
When the crowd closed in on Jesus in Matthew 8:23-27, he ordered his disciples to join him aboard a boat to the other side of the sea. In need of a fisherman’s boat, he got in and fell asleep. As he entered his sleepy state, his disciples became panic-stricken—a violent storm arose. As the boat lurched and the waves crashed, the disciples woke Jesus, yelling, “Lord, save us! We’re going to die!” What happened next gave them a unique glimpse of who Jesus truly was. The winds and waves suddenly grew calm. “What kind of man is this?” they questioned (Matt. 8:27 CSB). Only God could hold such authority over creation. In need of some rest, Jesus chose to put his power on full display for a small audience of common men. What might others learn of God’s power when we allow them in our weakness and need?
Beyond the Mirage
I recently began a search for a nurse to come into our home to help care for Blair when she’s not in school. Up until this point, I prided myself on fully managing my daughter’s care. She is completely dependent, both physically and cognitively, in everything from tube feeding, diapering, dressing, bathing, and transporting. I flaunted my ability to care for her every need (and the needs of her three sisters) without anyone’s help. As I recently created the long list of eighteen specialists my daughter sees on a regular basis, I clearly saw my autonomous gloating as merely a mirage. Over the past few months, the Lord has softened my heart toward the idea of inviting someone into our home, and more poignantly, into my need. The Spirit humbled my heart through books like The Hospitality of Need by Kevan Chandler and Tommy Shelton, which provided me a new lens to study scripture.
God graciously granted me the opportunity to witness the practical benefits of nursing help in other families affected by disability. I am learning that my home is a powerful display of the Gospel! It is a beautiful picture of his grace functioning in my mundane. The raw, sinful parenting interactions followed by repentance and forgiveness. The fight for patience and joy despite ongoing seizures and uncontrolled toddler emotions. My prayer remains for those who enter our home: To experience the transforming power of Christ and find spiritual healing in the Gospel through my weakness and need.
What might it look like for you to welcome others into your need? For me, it looks like accepting meals for my family while we commute to the hospital. It looks like asking others to help watch my other children so I can keep up with all of Blair’s doctor appointments. It looks like pushing aside my pride and seeking nursing services when Blair’s care feels overwhelming. This may look very different for you. Maybe it looks like asking for someone to join you in your loneliness. Maybe you could benefit from a ride to and from the airport to save on parking fees and stress. Perhaps you aren’t able to make it to the store, and you’d love for a neighbor to provide a single egg for the cake you have half prepared. Let us be faithful to use these small connection points to sow seeds for the gospel. Allow God’s transforming work to be displayed through your need. However dire or seemingly insignificant, let us consider whether it may ultimately point another to Christ—the true source and supplier of all our needs.