Due to complications of an illness, without warning I’d been struck blind. As I lay awake in the lonely darkness, I prayed harder than I’d ever prayed before. I was living a nightmare. I felt alone and afraid.
The searing pain stabbed at my eyes as if fire were consuming them. But it wasn’t pain that caused my sleeplessness. It was the terrifying darkness and the agonizing over the "what if’s." What if I would never regain my sight? What if I would never enjoy reading a book, driving my car, watching a sunset, or gazing into the eyes of my beautiful grandbaby? During the long, sleepless nights, I cried in despair, questioning God.
Because of the torturous pain, I’d become very protective of my eyes and skittish about anything coming near them. I trembled with fear at the thought of the doctor examining them; so when the surgeon announced that he must cut my cornea, lift it, and clean under it, my reaction was, "I’d rather have my legs amputated!"
Christians in my church, across the country, and even around the globe were praying for me. I too prayed fervently. I begged God, not only for healing of my eyes, but for strength to endure whatever happened. I learned that courage truly is fear that has said its prayers.
While lying awake each night, I listened to an all-night radio station play gentle music as a man read soothing Bible passages. The Scriptures and serene music comforted and calmed me. Like a fountain of fresh water, God’s Word rinsed away my anxieties, replacing them with peace. I remembered the words of Jesus: "My peace I give to you . . . Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." (John 14:27) At last, I was able to give up fear and say, "Do whatever you want, God."
I determined to believe in His goodness and love, no matter what happened. I knew He wouldn’t forsake me and He wanted only what was best, so why should I fear? If He chose not to restore my sight, I would trust that He had a reason. No matter what, with His help, I could go on with my life and use it for Him.
The surgery went well; in time my eyes healed and the darkness became brighter. It was a long road to recovery, but I defied all odds. Eventually, my doctor confided that he hadn’t believed I would ever see again.
"Your healing is a miracle," he said; but I already knew that.
Actually, God gave me two miracles. He restored my sight when it was hopeless. And, like a plant bursting forth from a dead seed, hope and trust had blossomed from my fear. Perhaps that was an even greater miracle.
Prayer may not change things for you, but it changes you for things.
Don’t be blind to your greatest need, which is Jesus.