But He's My Son

"Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you." - Psalm 9:10 (NIV)

When the phone rang, I wasn't prepared for bad news. My oldest son had been seriously hurt in an accident. Life Flight was transporting him to an emergency room.

As I raced to the hospital, my cell phone became a lifeline to my friends. My request was simple: "Please pray for my son."

My heart ached, but my eyes were dry until the family was allowed to see him. Tubes inserted into his body snaked from machines that beeped and blinked. Needles poked into his pallid flesh, contrasting with the paler sheets that covered his lifeless body. Blood was everywhere. I choked back sobs for this grown man, my son, the father of my grandchildren.

What would happen to his children, his wife if ... I didn't want to think about it? I wanted him whole and healed. Repeatedly, I prayed, "Lord, don't let him suffer. Don't let him die."

While watching the machines that were helping my son to breathe, I recalled his childhood injuries that oftentimes had forced a quick run to the doctor or emergency room for stitches or a cast. He was only three when he sustained his first broken bone.

This time was different. I could not kiss the wounds and reassure him that everything would be okay. I was not the all-powerful mother who could fix it with a band-aid. But my God could, if He would. My son's life was in His hands. My silent prayers kept vigil over my unconscious son. Minutes seemed like hours. Hours seemed like days.

As I paced through the hospital corridors seeking solace in movement instead of stillness, I paused to read the comforting words on a framed piece of artwork: "God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble." Psalm 46:1

The words of the psalm penetrated my heart and served as a message from God. My anxiety faded. I felt God's touch. I knew He was near, reassuring me that His love was sufficient for me. Filled with peace, I continued my prayer-filled walk through the halls and back to my son's bedside.

When my son finally awoke and responded to questions with a nod or a shake of his head, gratitude forced tears down my cheeks. "Thank you, God. Thank you." Those two simple words didn't seem adequate to express my gratefulness to a loving Father who spared my son -- a man who is almost as old as God's son when He died for us.

I have often wondered how God could sacrifice His son for my sins. Without question, I could easily give up my life for my son's, but how could I ever sacrifice my son? I couldn't.

However, a loving Father did. He gave up His Son for me. A loving Father offered up His Son for mine. A loving Father parted with His Son for you.

His Son paid the price so that we might live forever. "Thank you, God. Thank you."

Five years+ cancer survivor, Carol Round, writes a weekly faith-based column that can be found in 12 Oklahoma newspapers and one national publication. To learn more about A Matter of Faith, her self-syndicated column, check out her website at http://www.carolaround.com. A collection of Carol Round's most popular faith-based columns is now available in book form.