When my son was about four years old, he had to have what was then considered a risky surgery for his age. We drove two hours to a university hospital where a doctor that specialized in the treatment he required performed the surgery. I still remember the doctor describing how the surgery would take place and all the potential harmful things that could happen. I remember sitting in the hospital waiting room for it to be completed, tears streaming, as I simply prayed, “Please, God.”
I was all out of words. I could only plead for God’s care for my son.
When Life Mutes Us
As Christian parents, we know our children need our prayers. God uses those prayers—not because he needs them—but because in his mysterious providence chooses to use them as a means to carry out his will.
And so we pray. We pray for our sick child to be made well. We pray for wisdom when we encounter a parenting dilemma. We pray for our child’s protection from evil. We pray for God to open the blind eyes of our child’s heart so that he might see his need for Jesus and come to a saving faith.
Yet we know there are times in our lives as parents when we are so overcome by emotions that it’s hard to put words to what is happening. The challenges and heartaches we encounter with our children can leave us unable to voice what is going on in our hearts. We feel so distraught, so fearful, so brokenhearted that we can hardly utter a word, much less pray to the Lord all that needs to be said. We are left muted.
There are also times when our own sin gets in the way of our prayers. We are stubborn in that way, refusing to see the truth of our idolatrous hearts. In those times, we may look for ways to solve our parenting troubles on our own, rather than seek God and his will. We may trust in false hopes to lead and guide us. Rather than stopping to pray, we may even insist that we had every right to respond the way we did when our teen showed up past curfew and we failed to model the gospel by seeking forgiveness for what we said.
Whatever keeps us muted, God is ever gracious still.
To read the rest of this post, visit Rooted Ministry where I am writing today.
Photo by Olivia Snow on Unsplash
