The Cornfield

After I came to Christ, my mother was the first to realize that something was different.  Following my conversion I worked late into one night alongside mom while she was canning tomatoes.  I said, “Mom, I went to the altar at camp and gave my heart to the Lord.”  She looked at me through loving eyes and replied, “I knew something happened.  I’m proud of you.”  And then she kissed me on the cheek.  Little did I know at the time, but mom’s days on earth were numbered.

Two summers later, my mother awakened one morning not feeling well and by evening was bowed low in pain.  A wrong diagnosis in the emergency room sent her back home, only to have her return the next day.  By the time the problem was properly diagnosed, gangrene had worked a destructive toll on key internal organs.  Infection brought on a raging fever.  It was too late for even the strongest antibiotics.

For eight weeks she reeled in pain, solaced only by massive doses of morphine.  Many comforted my family during this very trying time.  A few well-meaning believers assured me that God was going to heal my mother.  I held on to every word.  My faith was immature and my knowledge of God’s Word was limited, so I embraced every word as “gospel.”

I had learned that God heals and subsequently, I just knew that He was going to heal my mom.  After all, I reasoned, God would not take our mother away when we, her seven children, needed her the most.  On September 2,  I awakened to the news that mom had died.  Numbness set in and shock would not allow me to cry, that is, until I went out to meet a grieving household. 

I ran to the cornfield adjacent to our home.  Blinded by tears, I ran hard through the rows of corn.   The sharp cornstalks slashed my arms and legs.  I shook my fists toward heaven, cursed, cried loudly, cursed more and cried louder still.  Finally, exhaustion threw me to the ground and I caught a mouthful of dirt.  I yelled, “You promised you would heal her.  You lied to me.  I’ll never serve you again.”  I threw in a few more expletives for emphasis sake and quieted myself. 

The Holy Spirit then spoke tenderly and lovingly into my heart.  “You asked me to heal your mother, and I did.  She’s in my presence completely whole.”  It’s been 45 years since that sad day.  And frankly, I still haven’t seen anything good come from her death.  Sometimes life makes no sense.  Our beliefs and faith are challenged beyond understanding.  We are called upon to simply trust God. 

Asking “why” becomes futile.  We must eventually rest our case.  Job did!  All of us sooner or later face heartache and loss.  The Scriptures teach that it rains on both the just and the unjust.  In retrospect, I do not believe that sovereign God felt threatened that day, even though I voiced some rather harsh words.  Our loving Father saw my tortured heart and in tender mercy embraced me.  My life would never again be the same; but I still believe God cried with me in the cornfield that day!