Finally finding the campus of College of the Ozarks, I lined up to wait to hug my friend who just lost her husband to brain cancer. She was my best friend in high school, radiant then as she is now in her faith. She was radiant at the end of the line, almost like a bride.
But, the deal was that the earthly healing she "claimed" in the name of Jesus was denied to her husband. Way down the aisle in the chapel, he was cold and pale.
Throughout the 11 month ordeal, my friend would send faith-infused updates. Her labor for healing resulted in a glowing testimony of amazing hope and assurance that her husband would be healed. I forwarded these to friends because of their power; I dared to hope that God would show himself, that he would involve himself, that maybe I could hope too in connection to my prayers for my son.
Yet, as the updates came, finally came an admission that the healing might happen in heaven. However, I have never seen such a demonstration in expectancy that God would deliver healing upon earth, even to the last moment.
Her last update on Tuesday stated that her husband was now in heaven. However, he "is alive and well" in a recovered body and looking into the eyes of Jesus.
When I approached her at the visitation, she dry-eyed squealed out my name, and we clung to each other crying. Once upon a time, we had been high school best friends dreaming about boyfriends and husbands and what God would do in our lives. We were both earnest, faith-full girls. We both trusted in good futures.
We both have been down hard paths.
My friend has lost her gift, the man whom she treasured more than anything else. Brain cancer. Life gone. Prayer denied.
Yet there she was quite radiant, whispering to me that Vince didn't suffer due to God's grace in his last hours. I was happy for her.
However, I cried much driving back.
For her. And, that God didn't allow us hopeful onlookers some more, solid, unquestionable proof of his existence and reported upon active care.