the boy on instagram.
There was a boy on Instagram. His story was captured by a person I’ve never met from an account I follow because of the connection social media has made available for everyone. The boy on Instagram looked like the boy across my living room racing cars with his hands and vrooming with his blackberry stained lips. The boy on Instagram was a stranger. The boy across the room is mine.
The boy on Instagram was taking a ride in a helicopter. On any other day and in any other circumstance I imagine this boy would’ve been solely comprised of squeals and giggles and delight, but on this day and for this circumstance he was fighting for life. And there, in the comfort of my living room, across the country from the boy on Instagram, to the sound of plastic cars crashing I exchanged the price for a ticket and took my seat before the setting stage of a glory-story.
I know this seat. I know the way this ticket feels between my fingers. I even know the glorifying end, but my heart races anyway.
I followed the story of the boy on Instagram from the first post. Initially, I was stunned at the suddenness and heartbroken for the family as I looked from posts to my boy’s face. I said my prayers for him. We both did, my right-here boy and I. As days turned into more days turned into a week I felt that pressure on my chest. I felt that lump in my throat. I had cried for the boy on Instagram and his family, but there was more tension in these tears. The tension between urgency and reluctance. Urgent prayers and reluctant fears to engage in another battle for another body.
Reluctantly choosing urgency, I pulled out my journal where my 6 month stash of healing verses were scribbled and I started to pray.
It’s true the wicked flourish, but only for a moment, foolishly forgetting their destiny with death that they will all one day be destroyed forevermore. (Ps 92.7 TPT)
Jesus, this disease has flourished in his body but its destiny is death.
Your anointing has made me strong and mighty. You’ve empowered my life for triumph by pouring fresh oil over me! (Ps 92.10 TPT)
Anoint this boy, anoint his family with fresh oil. Fill their room and fill their hearts making them strong and mighty, empowering them for triumph here.
As per the usual in any battle the slippery voice of the enemy was there in my kitchen, countering… You’ve said these words before. The only reason there’s any ink on this paper is because you’ve already prayed these verses – and they are not here.
There was no lump after that. The little bomb previously lodged in my throat had exploded and pieces of a sobbing mother stood in my kitchen.
For he enjoys his faithful lovers…
The clinking of a turning chain.
He adorns the humble with his beauty…
The trickle of sand giving way to sand.
…and He loves to give them victory. (Ps 149 TPT)
Thud.
My arms and legs find their way under me again and I feel the invisible realignment of my earthly heart with my heavenly home. Like my heart was rescued and pulled from the sand to firm foundation. These words are infallible. My Jesus cannot lie.
Surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save, nor his ear too dull to hear. (Is. 59.1)
So [as the result of the Messiah’s intervention] they shall fear [reverently] the name of the Lord from the west and his glory rising from the sun. When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord will lift up a standard against him and put him to flight [for he will come like a rushing stream which the breath of the Lord drives]. (Wrote it in my notebook without an address-so Isaiah something)
But Jesus refused to listen to what they were told and said to the Jewish official, “Don’t yield to fear. All you need to do is keep on believing.” (Mk 5.36 TPT)
We stand united in one spirit and one passion – celebrating together as conquerors in the faith of the gospel. And then you will never be shaken or intimidated by the opposition that rises up against us, for your courage will only prove as a sure sign from God of their coming destruction and that you have found a new life. For God has graciously given you the privilege not only to believe in Christ, but also to suffer for him. For you have been called by him to endure the conflict in the same way I have endured it – for you know I’m not giving up. (Phil. 1.27-30 TPT)
Who could ever separate us from the endless love of God’s Anointed One? Absolutely no one! For nothing in the universe has the power to diminish his love toward us…they are all impotent to hinder omnipotent love…Yet even in the midst of all these things we triumph over them all, for God has made us to be more than conquerors and his demonstrated love is our glorious victory over everything! (Romans 8. 35-37 TPT)
My arms lifted and my heart anchored into the foundation it now rested on. Maybe anchored is the wrong visual.. It felt more like grabbing hold to a rope tied infinitely and irrevocably to a piece of steel rebar anchored deep into the concrete foundation. With every verse I held on tighter. Wrapping my arms and body so tightly with this truth that to be pulled from it would tear me apart.
He loves to give us victory. He loves to give us victory. He loves to give us victory. Repeating that truth until every thought and every heartbeat understood.
I knew in that moment that a perspective changed within me, but there was still a learning in front of me. That day passed and several days followed with this boy on Instagram continuing to fight for his life, continuing to have odds stacked against him. I knew Jesus heals, I knew I was standing on new ground submitting my feelings to his Word, but I still had feelings.
Opening Instagram became anxiety filled. My breath would catch just a little when I saw a new post – would this be the post that commemorated his last breath? What do you do there? There where faith is as real as the ground you’re standing on AND the reality of healing is staring you in the face.
Often in the last year those “what do I do here” thoughts would plant a seed. Fear is present so you must have lost faith – shame on you. Any amount of fear would discount any amount of faith and I was defeated without even stepping on the field. My fear was not without history. But rather than lean into all-knowing Jesus, letting him handle the fear-seed planted in my faith-garden, I took every fearful thought like a searing brand of NOT ENOUGH across my face.
I allowed the outcome of my prayers to decide my worthiness of a miracle. It didn’t impact how good I thought God was, but part of me picked up the lie that I was unworthy of a miracle.
“You are not praying the right way, in the right place, for the right amount of minutes. And look, you’re still fearful. Like I would really reward you with some kind of healing.”
Shame does a terrible Jesus impression.
The beauty of that day in my kitchen was the gift of a tangible, wrap my heart around it understanding of submitting to God’s Word. I’ve sat in thousands of church services, experienced countless world-changing interactions with Jesus, but this 2 year old boy glory-story showed me how to really submit my feelings and my perspective to Jesus.
In that moment as I prayed and believed God loves to give us victory my fears and feelings submitted – he loves to give us victory. That’s truth because the Word says it’s truth. My fears and feelings are not.
If I’m not seeing victory it isn’t cause for anger at Jesus, it’s cause for a definition change. Because he loves to give us victory.
He wasn’t disappointed that I needed a definition change. In fact, he understood my historical fears and perfectly engineered my journey of redefining. The typical trap I fall into is keeping Jesus from my room full of fear, out of shame, but those fears can never submit to the King if I don’t bring the King in the room.
The little boy was healed and the world witnessed a miracle.
This mommy let Jesus into the room.
I don’t know what’s hiding in your room, but I know there’s a stage set for your glory-story. I know there’s a good Jesus with a perspective altering truth for every very real worry and fear and doubt and hurt. I’m asking Jesus to pour fresh oil over your heart and mind, empowering you with strength and might to open the door.
