If you could have glimpsed into my heart these past few days the emotion you would have seen first and foremost was anger. I've been plain old mad at disease, specifically congenital heart disease. I'm mad that so many children are asked to endure difficult and complex surgeries; mad that medical science can't fix every child's heart; mad that Cutler passed away; mad that Maddie passed away; mad that the Mary Bridge PICU is FULL of heart babies.
I've been like Jesus' disciples in John chapter 9, trying to find the fairness in it all. In their lack of understanding, they ask Jesus, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?"
Jesus' response to his followers has stripped me of much of my anger. "'Neither this man nor his parents sinned,' said Jesus, 'but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.'"
How many times have I said how thankful I am that God is using Luke's unfolding story to draw our family and others to Him? How can I let my anger overwhelm my faith when God has given us this incredible purpose? Like I'm sure the blind man didn't love being blind, I don't think God expects me to love heart defects, but He does expect me to love Him. And that means choosing sight — seeing how God is working for good — instead of blind anger.
Although my anger is less potent, I am still incredibly sad for the families who have lost their children. But sadness can glorify God, too. It can make us all the more dependent on the True Comforter and all the more anxious to spend forever with Him in Heaven.