Guest Post: Curse God and Die

A few years ago, our public relations team welcomed a spirited young woman as a summer intern. Whitney Williams immediately threw herself into her role, learning to coordinate interviews and write news releases. She even met her husband, Mix, while serving at Focus.

After her stint here, Whitney went back to Texas, finished college and got married.

Those who worked with Whitney were happy to follow her pregnancy on Facebook – and shocked to discover, along with her and Mix, that their baby boy was born with a rare congenital skin condition.

Whitney wrote about what God has been teaching her during this experience for WORLD Magazine. Read her story below

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So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord and struck Job with loathsome sores from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head. And [Job] took a piece of broken pottery with which to scrape himself while he sat in the ashes. Then his wife said to him, “Do you still hold fast your integrity? Curse God and die.” But he said to her, “You speak as one of the foolish women would speak. Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?” In all this Job did not sin with his lips. (Job 2:7-9)

“Curse God and die.” It’s tempting at times, I must admit. 

Sometimes the temptation comes to me in a whisper. Sometimes it screams.

It first hit me a few weeks ago. After a near-perfect pregnancy, my son came into the world with no skin on his feet. Less than two hours later, he and my husband left by ambulance for the nearest children’s hospital.

“We believe Colt has a rare skin disorder called epidermolysis bullosa,” the doctor told me over the phone that evening as I sat alone in my dark, cold hospital room—no baby to hold, no husband to hold me. “Epidermolysis bullosa. ‘The worst disease you’ve never heard of.’”

“Curse God and die,” the enemy told me as I watched my husband break down day after day in the NICU, knowing he could do nothing to help our son.

“Curse God and die,” Satan whispered, as my precious baby screamed in agony during each dressing change.

“Curse God and die,” he screamed, as I came across the terrifying truth about EB during a quick Google search. No cure. No medicine. A lifetime of suffering.

“Curse God and die,” the father of lies demands of me each time I discover a new blister in my son’s mouth … on his stomach … on his foot.

“Curse God and die.” It’s tempting, yes. But then again, it never seems like a good option. Actually, the Spirit inside me says it’s not an option, period.

I think Job felt the same way, but he still asked God: “Why?”

And in times of fear, I do too. Not necessarily why me? But why him? Why Colt? And a more general question: Why suffering?

God never answers my “why?” questions, but He does answer me. Sometimes in a whisper … sometimes with a shout:

“I am near, Whitney.”

“You are loved, Whitney.”

“I am good, Whitney, even though that’s sometimes hard to reconcile.”

“Keep coming to me, my daughter.”

“I hear your cries, and I cry with you.”

“Keep praying. Keep trusting.”

God allowed Satan to take everything from Job—his possessions, his family, his health—but for Job, cursing God didn’t seem like a good option. Actually, the Spirit inside him said it wasn’t an option. Period.

So there he sat. Praying. Trusting.

And the Lord blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning. (Job 42:12)

Who’s to say He won’t do the same for us?

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You can follow Colt’s story on Facebook.

This column originally appeared at WORLD's website (wng.org). Reprinted with permission. Copyright © 2013 WORLD News Group. All rights reserved. To read more news and views from a Christian perspective, call 800-951-6397 or visit wng.org.

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