Way Maker
About three months ago, my pastor and I were talking about our sons who both happened to have neurological issues. His youngest is afflicted with seizures, making it difficult for him to do some things such as manage stress or go to school. Because of his condition, it is inadvisable for him to drive, sleep alone, or live alone.
My son, on the other hand, has autism, ADHD, and IDD (what was used to be called retardation). While the wife and I spend a lot of time, effort, and money on empowering him, it remains that he would need caring for the rest of his life.
To encourage me, my pastor ended our conversation by sharing a video of ‘Way Maker’ — a contemporary worship song originally written by Nigerian gospel singer Sinach, which has been translated into over 50 languages, and covered by a host of Christian artists around the world.
I liked the song. Of course. Of course I liked it even if it felt weird in my heart. I liked it because it said true things.
He is, without question, the way maker. The miracle worker. Promise-keeper. The light in the darkness. He is all those things.
Even if He is not those things to me.
I have been praying for years for my son. I cry, I rail, I beg, I praise - and the response for the miracle I pray for has only been silence. And my human faith has adapted appropriately. Through this long and lonely road, I have learned to worship because of and in spite of the silence.
So when I say I agree with the song that The Lord is the way maker, the miracle worker, the promise-keeper, and the light in the darkness, I mean those things. I know He is. I tell my heart that these are all true even if the way has been closed to my son. That the miracle is likely denied. That the promise does not come true in my son’s lifetime. If He has decided to leave us here in the cold, then we bow to His sovereignty and sing our hosannas in the darkness.
I realized my shameful error only a few weeks ago. A church leader was sharing his joy in our group chat about how a new batch of students had become regulars in our church’s student center (and they’re now doing bible study) and I imagined that if ever I get the chance to drop by, I should be ready with my story on how I became a Christian just in case a student asks.
I recalled my story, which included a girl who rejected me, a Christian org in college, a mediocre book of fiction, that scene that made me recoil in shock, and the eventual revelation of the role of Christ Jesus and what salvation means. I remember how suddenly my perspective changed.Jesus was no longer that remote deity in the heavens judging me, but the lamb who bridged the gap, the one who made a way —
oh.
In that moment, while I was rehearsing how to tell my salvation story, it dawned on me. I suddenly realized how hypocritical I had been. How forgetful. I’ve been a Christian for decades, so my conversion is an old memory. But suddenly, it made things clear again.
How can I say that He is not a miracle worker for me and my son when He has already done the greatest miracle of all? I have been so focused at looking for the crumb that was my son’s miracle that I failed to see the mountain of what He has already accomplished. My concern and my grief for my son made me ignore that He has already fulfilled His promise, that He has already made a way. I have been blind to the fact that I am in the light only because He has already brought me here.
My temporary, earthly fear for my son’s future has beaten my head down and I’ve only been staring, weeping at the ground. In a moment of Grace, He raised my head and reminded me of the glory of His deeds. He reminded me of who He has always been. Of who He continues to be. Of who He will always be.
Never can I say again that my son was left alone, ignored, and overlooked. No. Grace is offered to all.
Worthy is the lamb.
