It was 5 a.m. when I heard Calvin calling through the monitor. His calls quickly turned into cries as I ran down the steps. It’s been a nightly routine the last couple of months and it’s usually the same reason: his hips.
Both of his hips are dislocated and there is no clear and easy solution. Even touching his leg makes him flinch so my trick has been to quickly turn him onto his side, taking pressure off of his left hip – the one giving him the most pain these days.
I ran my hand down his back, the back with a bulge forming significantly on one side — his scoliosis has increased dramatically in his latest growth spurt. I repositioned his legs, bending them and putting stuffed animals as cushions between his knees. He quickly smiled and breathed a sigh of relief and contentment.
Most of the time we’ve been so completely consumed with helping him to breathe, that all of these lesser issues hardly register on our radar. But for the last month he’s had unusually good respiratory health and has been able to breathe without significant effort; if it feels like an elephant lifted off my back, I can only imagine how it feels for him.
He’s been so alert the past month, wanting to participate in everything from church to backyard campfires. We’ve taken advantage of this rare time by bringing him everywhere: the library, zoo, air museum, Sam’s Club (hey, it counts), playground, church, and grandma and grandpa’s. I can’t tell you how good it feels to see him like this especially after the spring and summer he’s had.
As I sat with Calvin in the dark, rubbing his back, talking to him quietly I realized our challenges have changed in the past few years. These days I am less overwhelmed with his disabilities and more overwhelmed with the gift of his life. I find myself less perplexed with God’s purposes (still a mystery) and more aware of His call to obedience — that very unglamorous but vital part of Christian life.
The truth is, our obedience hinges on trust. If we don’t trust God, we won’t obey, at least not wholeheartedly. Sure, we can act like we are trusting God, doing and saying the right things, showing up at church, but in our hearts we can foster unexpressed anger and mistrust of God. This is not new to humanity. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone down that path and realized I’m doing what humanity has done since Adam and Eve: trusting my own definition of good rather than God’s. And that always leads to destruction.
But there is a way to life and that is simply trusting God and His intentions toward us. I think at the root of it we can only trust God once we fully believe what He says about Himself: that He is good. We learn to trust and realize His goodness not by intellectual hoops alone but by framing our entire lives around the expression of His goodness: Jesus Christ.
God is the divine who is always looking to bring us back to Him, back into a relationship with Him that we’ve messed up badly — no, destroyed. Just look at our hearts, look at our world. He is our Creator, our Redeemer, our Restorer. Without Him we have no definition of good. And when we start grasping that, obedience is the response.
This obedience always plays out in practical everyday living, not just the big things. This is what it looks like in the season we are in:
It means faithfulness in caring for Calvin even when it is never-ending and exhausting. When you just want to go to bed instead of giving meds, respiratory treatments and setting him and his machines up for the night. Midnight obedience.
It means trusting Him when He doesn’t take away pain or suffering. This is hard when you watch your son literally suffocating from chronic lung disease. Not hard, impossible. But Jesus gives us strength and tell us He is with us “in our deepest distresses.” He weeps with us and calls us to carry our cross and follow Him.
It means believing God’s goodness even when my circumstances aren’t good at all. At least not in a temporal happy sort of way. Obedience is believing that no matter what disaster is in my life, God deserves my praise — He owes me nothing and has given me everything. And in our disasters He is working good and glory from ashes we can scarcely sweep together.
It means living joyfully because our hope is very real. We are not living around an idea, we are living around a reality: a risen Lord Jesus who is making all things new.
It’s our default to create narratives where our motives and morality are justified but God’s are murky — leading us to wonder if we can really trust Him. Thankfully, God is persistent in correcting our distortions by showing His intention and goodness to us in Christ through His Word and Spirit. And when I see that, midnight obedience becomes an opportunity rather than a chore.