The Miracle of Rising Up . . . Again

Sometimes, the miracle doesn't look like what we think it should. Sometimes we miss it completely because we're looking for something else. Sometimes we can only see it in hindsight. Sometimes the miracle is rising up each time we fall or we’re pushed down by the enemy. Thank you Lord, for your miracles, no matter what they look like!

These are the words that hit me the other day. Like a proverbial Mac truck! I have just gone through a time in my life that has been . . . well, difficult. In the last five years, we’ve experienced fertility issues, three miscarriages, a huge financial burden, betrayal, attacks on our character, the demise of a church we loved and poured everything into, the loss of relationships, the death of two beloved pets (just months apart), isolation, and the silence of God. Yep, it’s been a difficult time.

It would be easy to blame all of this on some great big sin in our lives, but it wasn’t there. Of course, we’re not sin free, but we weren’t in rebellion, or choosing a lifestyle of sin over a lifestyle of loving God and worship. It was “just” a time of warfare. For some reason, our enemy, the enemy, pursued us with a vengeance. We knew we were under attack, and we fought it the best we could. We kept going, we kept praying, we kept believing, we kept praising, we kept on keepin’ on, rising up each time we were taken down . . . for a time.

I have always believed that a person can endure or deal with most things if it’s only for a time. But when that time goes on and on, and the attacks are relentless, when the burden is unbearably heavy, and you have no reprieve, it’s easy to get weary. Deep down, doggone, wiped-out weary.

That’s where I was. My prayers, pleas, cries, and questions went unanswered. I believe in miracles. I’ve seen other people receive miracles. That last moment save, when all seemed lost, and the miracle happened to them. I rejoiced with them, while wondering, where was my miracle, my save? Especially regarding my miscarriages. I mean, I knew that God could intervene and save my babies, but He didn’t. I concluded that either God was not all-powerful, or He just didn’t care.

I wrestled with that. I wrestled with God. I poured out my anger, my pain, my questions, my blame, I just poured it all out. Time after time. And finally, after such a long time, things got better. The assaults haven’t stopped completely, but I’m feeling strengthened and victorious. I don’t have answers to the seemingly endless questions that have been plaguing me, but I have peace. I feel as if the large, dark and ominous cloud that has been hovering over me has been pushed away and has been replaced by glorious Light. God has shown me once again, that I am a victor, not a victim. That I am an overcomer, not merely a survivor.

And finally I know, finally I get it. I received my miracle. I received the miracle of being able to rise up each time I was taken down. Yes, the fight was long, drawn-out, unyielding and brutal. Yes, the enemy won some battles. Yes, we suffered major casualties, but . . . we survived, we got through and we rose up, again and again and again. We were bruised and bloodied, but we were not defeated. I am stronger for it, we are stronger for it. Through the midst of it all, our marriage did not suffer. And we know, without a shadow of a doubt, that what the enemy meant for evil, God will use for good.

And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. ~ Romans 8:28

Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. ~ Romans 8:37