This morning I sat in my chair and prayed. Enough of stale words, I thought. I need to get out of this funk.
"Lord, increase my faith," I said. I hadn't prayed that well-worn line in awhile. I thought of all the bad things that happen to people -- faith-increasers. And from somewhere in the depths of me, I heard the words "but don't take the life of my son."
I shut my mouth and didn't let them come out. My son? Less than three weeks from his womb-to-world journey, do I think he's my son?
The Lord gives... takes.... Blessed....
"I'm sorry, Lord. He's Yours. Before You even give him to me, he's Yours. And after You do -- if You do -- he's still Yours. Every breath he takes of this earth-air is a breath enabled by You and not by me."
Increase my faith.
And now, I sing to myself Keith Green's song:
"I pledge my son to Heaven for the gospel,
though he's kicked and beaten, ridiculed and scorned..."
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