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Two Words that Touch God's Heart

Greetings this January day. I am away from my desk to celebrate and serve in the arrival of our newest grandchild. This week's guest blog post is written by Jane Glenchur. I am always inspired by her walk with God.

After being led by the Lord to quit her dermatology practice to become a stay-at-home mom, Jane Glenchur entered into a 16 year prayer apprenticeship with God which became the basis for her book, Seven Secrets to Power Prayer: How to Access God’s Wisdom and Miracles Every Day. She teaches readers how to engage with God to take the stress and guesswork out of decision-making and to receive personalized answers to their prayers. You can follow Jane at janeglenchur.blogspot.com and at JaneGlenchur.Author.com. Now for her blog post. 

Two Words that Touch God's Heart

7 pm Election Eve night: The tension in our home was palpable. Who would be elected president the next day? In a matter of seconds the tension doubled. I was not prepared for my daughter’s phone call. “Grandma fell. The life squad is on their way.”

Memories of her fall five years ago flooded my thoughts—three pelvic fractures, a broken shoulder, life-threatening complications, and months of rehabilitation. Not again! 

Grabbing just the essentials with a quick explanation to my family, I raced out the door and headed for the nearest hospital. “No broken bones this time, Lord. I speak life and healing over my mom.”

My daughter arrived at the emergency room a few minutes after I did. Ten minutes later the ambulance pulled up. Mom was surprisingly chipper. “I didn’t break any bones this time.” Her declaration reassured us until they moved her off the ambulance gurney onto a hospital bed. Her ear piercing screams spoke one diagnosis to my medical mind—major fracture. Prayer requests for no broken bones seemed almost futile at this point but I sent them anyway to my prayer partners. 

The stress from spending days in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) and seeing my mother in agonizing pain sapped my energy almost as much as it did my mom’s. Then I remembered the inspiring story of Kenneth Bae, the Korean-American who spent two years in a North Korean prison camp. 

During the first half of his imprisonment he thought and prayed about one thing—being released and returning home. When his captors reassured him he would be spending the rest of his life there, his prayers changed: “Lord, use me.” He began to see his imprisonment as an assignment for the Lord. From then on Mr. Bae looked for every opportunity to share the good news of Christ with the prison guards or anyone else he came in contact with. His spirits lifted. He had purpose there.

I arose the next morning with a single prayer: “Lord, use me. Show me who needs Your touch today.” I settled onto the couch in my mother’s ICU room with plenty of reading material for the day ahead. In walked the respiratory therapist—a new one I hadn’t met. She was wearing a bright red shirt with an American flag on the back and large white letters on the front, but I couldn’t quite make out what they said. 

“What does your shirt say?” I asked. She explained that her son was in the military, deployed overseas in a dangerous area, and the shirt was to honor all those who are deployed. As I inquired further about her son the tears rose in her eyes. Her face told me what I needed to know. This was my God assignment. “I’ll be praying for your son this week.”

She thanked me and left. That evening the Lord impressed on me to give her a copy of my book on prayer. The next day they transferred my mother to a regular floor. Would I ever see this military mom again?
“Lord, please send her to my mom’s room.”

A few hours she walked in to my mother’s new room with another therapist she was training. Not exactly the privacy I needed to talk with her. She came back a second time again accompanied by the other person.

“Lord, please send her back by herself so I can pray for her.” A few hours later she returned alone.

Uncertain whether she was a Christian, I gently probed: “Do you pray for your son?” She responded affirmatively. I shared how the Lord had impressed on my heart to give her a copy of my book and then inquired if I could pray for her and her son. As I asked the Lord to comfort her and protect her son tears streamed down her face. 

 “You are the third person in 24 hours to pray for me,” she said. Two chaplains had pulled her aside in the ICU sensing her distress and had approached her to pray even though they had come to minister to patients. Then she added: “I wasn’t even supposed to be on your mom’s floor today.” 

“I prayed God would send you here. You are etched on the palms of His hands. His eyes are always upon you.” She shook her head in amazement. We hugged goodbye and she left.

Two little words: “Use me”—touched God’s heart, her heart and mine. I learned that God can use us anytime, anywhere, even in our deepest distress when we take our eyes off our circumstances and focus on Him.

By the way, despite the medical staff’s conviction (and my fears) that my mom must have broken a bone somewhere to cause such excruciating pain, numerous repeat x-rays over the next two weeks showed no fractures!