Without a Word_ How a Boy's Unspoken Love Changed Everything - Jill Kelly [22]
Thankfully, in spite of my confusion, my search for hope and for God continued. I pressed on for Hunter’s sake and never gave up. And then, miraculously, in the very midst of Hunter’s suffering, the indescribable joy his life brought our family began to overshadow my desire for his healing. Of course I wanted his struggles to end and longed for him to be a healthy, growing boy. However, his life was about so much more than his health. I didn’t let God’s decision to heal him or not consume me. No, I didn’t give up… I gave in. I gave in to a better plan and purpose for Hunter’s life. I surrendered my hopes and dreams for Hunter to the God who was weaving a more beautiful tapestry both behind the scenes and before our very eyes for our entire family.
A few months after our healing mass experience, my mother’s younger brother, Mark, came over to visit us. He was a born-again Christian. I only knew a few Christians at the time who called themselves “born again,” and for some reason, I always felt uncomfortable around them; I just never felt I measured up to their standards. Even though I didn’t know what those standards were, I was convinced I was way off, so I tried to avoid them as much as possible.
My understanding of what it meant to be a Christ-follower was jaded and far from accurate. I assumed the pious types were judgmental without realizing I was just as guilty of judging them. Like most unbelievers, I also thought Christians spent all their time walled up in a steeple-topped building singing hymns and beating their Bibles. As horrible as it sounds, I imagined that people serious about God were terribly boring because they had nowhere else to turn for enjoyment in life. There was no way that God could be remotely exciting—at least not according to my definition of excitement at the time.
I was in for a rude awakening.
My uncle Mark was the first person to ever share the details of the gospel story with me—the story of our sinful nature, our need for a Savior, and God’s amazing love displayed through the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Mark loved Jesus in a way that I had never witnessed before. He’d been through his share of deep heartbreak and yet was still more passionate for Christ than anyone I knew.
During our many visits together we discussed the tough questions most people ask when tragedy strikes: Why does God allow suffering? Where is God in all of this? Most importantly, why Hunter? Mark didn’t always have an answer, and he never tried to appease my doubts with empty platitudes. “I don’t know why God is allowing Hunter to go through all this,” he’d say, “but I do know that God is real and He loves you. He loves Hunter more than you can imagine.”
“How do you know how God loves?” I’d ask.
“Well, first of all, the Bible tells us in the book of John that God loves us so much that He gave His one and only Son for us. If we believe in Jesus and all that He has done for us through His death on the cross, then not only are our sins forgiven, we will eventually spend eternity with Him.”
Mark was always mindful not to go too far or get too deep. I hadn’t yet accepted Christ as my Savior and didn’t fully understand what that meant. And like many non-Christians, I was intimidated and uncomfortable with all the Jesus talk, and he knew this. My body language and facial expressions said it all.
Thankfully, Mark knew when he was in danger of going overboard. Even so, during most of our conversations I found myself craving more. I longed for more of Mark’s hope, more of his uncommon joy. Although I struggled with the born-again thing, my desire for heaven and the God behind it all deepened with every conversation.
He and I spent a lot of time talking about a “righteous man” named Job, found in the Old Testament book named after him. The unprecedented