Day 62: the Holiness of Helplessness

Immediately the father of the boy cried out, “I do believe; help my unbelief!” Mark 9:24

Eight months after I brought Missy home from Haiti, she got sick for the first time. Up until that dreadful evening, she’d been really healthy. I mean she had some nasty parasites and stuff that we had to treat with antibiotics right after she came home and she has seasonal allergies, but other than that, she’s a tough little peanut. I did my best to remain calm after noticing that her eyes were glassy and she had an elevated temperature. I got her in her favorite pajamas, gave her a dose of children’s Tylenol, and encouraged her to sip Pedialyte while I sat beside her on the bed and read some of her favorite books out loud.

But after about an hour, when the thermometer showed that her temperature was rising, I could feel my heart rate going up too. I couldn’t help but remember the scary stories I’d read about kids with compromised immune systems who got something as innocuous as a cold that rapidly turned into pneumonia. So I called my friend Kathleen who’s a surgeon and a mom.

“Kathleen, I’m trying not to be a Nervous Nellie but Missy’s temperature is almost 102 and I need you to talk me off a cliff because I’m pretty close to bundling her up and racing to the ER.”

She responded with her characteristic calmness and asked me the following questions:

Is she able to drink clear liquids and has she been urinating normally? Yes.

Did her fever go down after you gave her the first dose of Tylenol? Yes.

Has she been vomiting? No.

Is she complaining of a severe headache? No.

When you depress the skin on her forearm does it immediately return to normal or does it remain indented? It went right back to normal.

Has she lost consciousness since she got sick? No. But she’s limp when I pick her up to take her to the bathroom and is acting really lethargic.

Kathleen then said, “Lease, I will be glad to get in the car right now and meet you at the ER, but I think this is just a typical childhood virus. I know it’s scary because this is the first time she’s had a high fever, but I don’t think this has anything to do with her HIV. High fevers are incredibly common in little kids, and as long as it’s responding to Tylenol and she’s drinking fluids and urinating, she’s going to be fine. As a matter of fact, she’ll probably be back to normal by the morning.”

After Kathleen assured me that I could call her anytime throughout the night regardless of how late it was and reiterated her willingness to meet me at the ER, she gave me a gentle word of caution. She said, “Now Lisa, let me warn you about one thing. Sometimes high fevers cause children to have mild hallucinations and in that case, they can say crazy things. So if Missy does that, please call me immediately, but don’t panic, okay?”

I wish I could tell you I heeded Dr. William’s advice, but she may as well have told me not to eat the hot bread they bring out before the entrée at Italian restaurants. Because about an hour later, when I was tenderly wiping Missy’s forehead with a cold washcloth and she mumbled, “I see Jebus, mama. I see Jebus,” I completely freaked out. I wrapped my arms around her little shoulders and, in my best Christian-mother moment, I shouted, “Run away from Him, honey. RUN AWAY!” Because I was terrified that Missy’s feverish vision of the Good Shepherd was going to be followed by a long tunnel and a bright light and if she walked toward Him, she was going to zip up to heaven right then and there! Much like that ancient daddy who was worried about his sick kid in Mark 9, God had to help with my unbelief when mine got sick too.

Now, suffice it to say that Missy made it through that terrible night, and so did I! However, something hit me in the midst of all of it: that simple confession—I believe but help me in my unbelief—is basically the story of my life. And if you’re honest, I bet it’s a familiar refrain in yours as well. But be encouraged, your admitted crisis of belief may very well usher in the biggest spiritual breakthrough of your life. Because as one of my favorite pastors and theologians, Dr. Tim Keller, says: “Helplessness, not holiness, is the first step to accessing God.”12

• What kinds of situations cause you to cry out this sort of confession to God?
• How have you seen Him pull through for you?
• What “Kathleen” figure has God placed in your life to help you remain steady during wobbly seasons?