Sometime in the middle of August, I ran into Becca, one of my former students. She was about to start her freshman year in college as a pre-med major. As we caught up on our recent histories, she told me that her boss Charlie was in the hospital in a coma. He was in there for something routine. At some point, he was given something (accidentally?) in which he had a violent reaction. It caused renal failure, and he slipped into a coma. The prognosis was bleak.
Later that day, I found a quiet place and prayed for Charlie. I prayed everyday for God to heal Charlie. Let it his recovery be a miracle and an inspiration for others to find a way to get closer to God. I also prayed for his family to find the strength, courage, and endurance to make it through this trying time. Let it be in Your plan that Charlie recovered.
About a week later, I called Becca to see how Charlie was doing. I was not surprised to find out that his condition was improving a little. I had expected this kind of news; after all, I had been praying for his recovery. He was half-conscience. His eyes were not really open, but he would respond to request like, “Can you wiggle your feet?” His kidneys were still not functioning. Progress was still very guarded, but I knew things would work out for the best. I continued to pray for Charlie’s health.
I didn’t hear from Becca for a week or two. Finally, I saw her at our high school’s football game on Sept. 12th. I eagerly asked about Charlie. I was devastated to hear that he had died on Labor Day. My heart sank.
Why did Charlie not live? Why were my prayers not answered?