I have been focusing most of my attention on helping my mother right now. She is terminally ill with cancer which is rapidly spreading in her body. Each week her condition worsens. As I look at the pain and suffering she is experiencing, I can't help but reflect on what it means to have "faith" in the midst of this. Frankly, I totally understand why so many people really question the value of prayer at times like this. I tell her I am praying for her, but she just gets more ill, with more pain.

I have known far too many wonderful people who have had thousands praying for healing for them, and yet they died an agonizing slow death. On the contrary, I have known others who have had many praying for them, and they did get better, and those who prayed, praised God for healing them. But I wonder, is the difference really that God showed favor for some but not for others? Did God truly love some more than others? Did God show compassion for the suffering of some people, but not others? Will God really be more likely to take action to intervene if we get more people to pray, playing “the numbers game” like some sort of spiritual telethon? What about the people who are dying alone, and have no friends or family to ask their church and other friends to pray for their loved one? Will God not be there for them, because no one is praying for them?

I believe God doesn’t conform to this model of how we frequently put our faith into practice. We strive to reach out to God with our petitions because we honestly don’t know what else to do. In our awareness of our own helplessness, we reach out to God, out of desperation. We feel that we are at least doing something that matters if we ask others to pray. It helps us in coping with our own sense of helplessness, but does it really persuade God? I just don’t know.

Some would argue that to even pose such a question, it means I have little faith. But I look at it more, that as we face the realities of our human condition, we do need to question what it means to have “faith” in God. “Faith” is not just applying a simple formula of “saying these words” or “get everyone you know to pray to God in a round the clock vigil”. “Faith” is not putting God in a box, saying if we do this, God will do that.

As I walk this painful journey with my mother, I am being reminded about what “faith” is. Hebrews 11:1 tells us “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” I most definitely sense God’s presence with me and my mom, as we go through this. She may not have any of the pain taken away. She may not be cured of this cancer spreading through her body. But she knows that she is being loved through this. I can hold her and let her cry. I can listen as she shares her fears. I can hold her arm to steady her walk. But what I am really giving her is love. And what I am receiving is love.

Faith is not so much about our physical condition, as it is about those things which are “not seen”. We do not directly see “love”. Much like the wind, though we do not see it, we see the evidences of it.

I feel so “connected” to my mom right now as she is going through this. The actions I have done with her or for her are not the point. The love that was and is shared IS the point.

Faith gives us the vision to see that the love we share and experience in the midst of the pain and challenges and beauty of life, is the greatest gift God has given us. Ultimately our physical life on this Earth will end for ALL of us. None of us will avoid that moment when we breathe our last breath. Faith is knowing that this is not all there is. Faith is knowing that the things that REALLY matter are not “of this world”. Ultimately, through our faith in Christ’s promises, we have been assured victory over death. No tumor can take away the gift of eternal life that God offers us. No amount of cancer can take away our ability to love and experience love from others.

It is through faith that we realize that in the midst of the pain of a loved-one facing death, we find an incomprehensible cherished blessing in the love that is shared. The other things of life that seemed to matter so much, other worries, other problems, then fade into insignificance. Our priorities get realigned to things eternal. It is through faith that the “unseen” becomes visible, as we see that God is walking with us. God is holding our arm as we step. God is right there holding us and letting us cry, maybe even crying with us. God is loving us with a deeper love than we can ever imagine. And God is saying, ultimately, “it will be ok.”

Where does that leave this issue about prayer? I don’t mean to sound hopeless in my views on prayer. I feel like I have been in dialog with God continually through this. If anything, it is through prayer that I have been reminded that God does care. I am just saying that God’s true gift must be seen through the eyes of faith, as a gift that transcends the here and now of our pain and suffering. And even with all the prayers in the world, we most likely will not find ourselves protected from experiencing hardship and suffering. But the miracle is that through faith we can go on, in spite of the suffering, and discover the paradox of immense blessing found in the midst of immense pain. The greatest tragedy would be for us to miss the gift God is giving us, because we are focused on trying to convince God to alter the path we are on, as opposed to asking God to open our eyes to how God is walking with us in our journey, every step of the way.

What a tremendous gift God gave us in the experience of life on this beautiful Earth. The breadth and depth of our human experience, the life we’ve lived, and the relationships we’ve had are an immeasurable blessing if we pause and really look back on our lives in gratitude.

At some point that experience ends, but that is not the end of the story for you or me or my mom or your loved ones. God has something far better waiting for us. And it’s not a matter of getting enough people to pray for us, in order for us to experience that gift. God loves us so much already. It’s a matter of us simply accepting that gift. It’s a matter of faith. As death approaches, so do the questions about the meaning of life, and the meaning of faith.

As I rest my head on my pillow, a tear falls from my eye, and I think about my mom. This all hurts so much right now. But I know in my heart, she’s going to be ok.

Rev. David Wilkerson once said “The hardest part of faith is the last hour.” I understand.

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