I came to understand how true it is that God never leaves or forsakes us in the moments of my life when I wanted the least to do with Him.  

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Early one Labor Day morning, we got the call that there had been a firearm accident, and my 3-year-old niece was being rushed toward a life-flight helicopter. I dropped to the floor and prayed harder than I ever had. I fully believed God was going to perform a miracle. How could He not? It felt like the only way.  

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But she didn’t even make it onto the helicopter.

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I was devastated. I felt betrayed and confused. At some point I crawled into bed, and the last thought I remember was directed at God: “I don’t want to talk to You.”

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In moments like that, I imagine God sees me the way a parent sees a toddler who has thrown themselves on the ground over something that feels deeply unjust. The toddler laments loudly that this is Just. Not. Right. The parent waits while the toddler has it out, then scoops them up to hold them. There’s no use in trying to talk them like that- there’s no reason good enough or logical enough or comforting enough to overcome the emotion of the injustice felt. Eventually, the sobs settle into sniffles. The breathing steadies. And then comes the quiet.

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And the quiet is where I found myself after pleading for the miracle that didn’t happen, then having it out in the floor and letting God know exactly what I thought. It sounded something like- I know You are sovereign and I know You are good. But to believe in sovereignty means I know You could have changed it. You may be good, but I will never be able to see the good in this.  

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Sometime after that, I found myself thinking about the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego going into the furnace in Daniel 3. They trusted God could deliver them, and committed to believe even if He didn’t. And in the quiet, I felt the gentlest, softest question in the depths of my heart, “Am I still all of the things you believe Me to be in the ‘even if not’?” I didn’t need to answer. I wasn’t scolded. God wasn’t mad. Like the toddler after totally losing it, I had been picked up and held.  

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There were no deep truths or revelations that suddenly made sense of what I couldn’t make sense of. There were no answers. I was simply held- wrapped in God’s peace through tears and anger. And I wish I could say everything was fine after that, but I’m stubborn. I spent the next year wrestling with God and walking through a season of deconstruction. But God is so good, and He’s in the business of restoration. His word tells us He gives beauty for ashes (Isaiah 61:3).  

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Nothing replaces our niece, but God has restored my deep faith by giving me opportunities to pray for and walk alongside others who needed big faith. He has taught me to remember the miracle and gift of our niece’s life by reflecting on how we almost lost her at birth. He has exchanged the ashes of my deep grief for a gift of lament that better equips me to walk well with others. God makes all things beautiful in His time (Ecc. 3:11). I take comfort in knowing that nothing is ever wasted with Jesus.