Heirs of Hope | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Heirs of Hope | Previous Challenge Entry
By Elaine Hemingway
01/25/18
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My youngest son had just come out of surgery and I was allowed into the recovery room as my precious five-year-old was being roused from the anaesthetic. Encouraged to hold his hand and speak to him I was suddenly pushed out of the way. Our doctor appeared and leapt onto the bed while lights flashed and blips hiccoughed across a small screen. The bed was pushed back out to the corridor of the small hospital in Africa, doctor astride the still form as he administered CPR.

“Wait there,” the nurse shouted as I tried to follow and I was pushed into a chair pressed behind my shaking legs. The bed and attendants disappeared behind a swinging door while I was left, a promise maker.

Oh, yes! I made promises. I knew God was there somewhere. I had told Him I believed, years before. I just hadn’t really accepted His presence all the time. I hadn’t read Roman 5:5 - “Hope does not disappoint us.” I hadn’t embraced Hebrews 6:17-20 – “Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of His purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, He confirmed it with an oath. God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled to take hold of the hope offered to us may be greatly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf.” I hadn’t realised I was an heir to that hope.

Actually, my awareness had grown cold. I hadn’t taken much notice of Jesus after those early exciting days merged into adulthood. I still prayed at night because it was habitual from childhood, though not so that anyone would notice. Life had intruded with all its distractions but now I did what came naturally, “Please, Lord, save him. I’ll do anything. Just please hear me. Save him.” I sat there for a long time as people came and went, but the door remained closed to me. I wept and I implored. And hoped I would be heard. I don’t know how long it was before I was told my son had survived. His heart had stopped and he wasn’t breathing when he was rushed from the room. I thought the doctor was brilliant for his quick action had been crucial. Was it coincidental that my prayers had been answered? Perhaps, but the Lord knew. He controls the incidents.

It turned out that my son was allergic to the anaesthetic that had been used, and as it was a genetic problem the whole family had to be tested. I was reminded of all this when I received a message about another youngest son. This time an adult but the youngest son nonetheless. He was in a life-threatening situation, placed in an induced coma in an effort to stabilise him and I wondered if what I had done supernaturally, knowing God was able, would occur to this young man’s family. All I could do was pray for them, and once again cry out to the Healer.

Now, I know that God had never let go and had held me on strong elastic through my wanderings. I wear an anchor that proclaims all is well with my soul. I rest in the promise that proclaims, “Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him.” (Jeremiah 17:7)

I keep another family in prayer that they, too, may acknowledge they are heirs of hope.

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