The boy who was burned sits tuning his guitar, his foot and ankle wrapped up in a bandage. He tunes. The pain, I just can't even imagine. I tap a portion of a fingertip on a hot pan and it seems to much. A whole leg- I just can't even. But there he sits, tuning through it.
The woman with cancer enters and sits with her daughter on one side and her husband on another. She smiles. This smile lights up my soul. There aren't many smiles that can light up another's soul, but hers certainly can. And there she sits, smiling through it.
The pastor has us pray for her and we circle around her. I mutter prayers. One of the pastors prays that we want to argue this, argue this diagnosis given to her, argue that we are not done with her yet. The amens and assents of agreements grow loud.
We pray through it.
My friend who crashed now has a new car again. I walk around it, muttering prayers. Later, I make the mistake of saying forlornly that all I can do is 'just pray' about something. She fixes her sharp eyes on me: JUST PRAY? I hang my head. Look at me, I am a testament to the power of prayer. I am alive. She is who was broken through it.
The pastor is speaking about Hebrews and the litany of disasters they went through- from being flogged, stoned and to freaking being sawn in two. We're not talking being stuck in traffic folks, we're talking real life and death stuff. But they still sought Jesus, they still ran to him. They looked to him to finish their faith. And, they believed through it.