The Floodgates of Hope

God has given us many promises for this life. Think of a dam that holds water back from a city. The city needs water but the water levels are monitored and the water is released at the most opportune time. Few people know when the floodgates will open and release the water. Now think about a particular promise you hold in your heart. You trust God for the promise to come, but you don’t know exactly when you’ll receive it.

Five hours after our youngest son was born, doctors informed us he was deathly ill and gave him a 50/50 chance of survival. My husband, Blaine overheard the nurse who admitted our baby into the NICU tell another nurse when she came in the next day, “I’m surprised the Gregor baby is still here. I didn’t expect him to make it through the night.”

Each time the doctors tried to tell me my baby wouldn’t make it, I couldn’t process it.

I think they thought I was crazy.

What they didn’t know is that I had been on bed rest most of the time with my firstborn, and he came five weeks early. So, when we decided to have another child, I put my trust in God and believed for a healthy pregnancy, and he delivered. So, once our second son was out of the womb, I couldn’t believe the doctor’s report. I knew in my heart of hearts he would survive.

Now faith is the assurance (the confirmation, the title deed) of the things [we] hope for, being the proof of things [we] do not see and the conviction of their reality [faith perceiving as real fact what is not revealed to the senses] (Hebrews 1:1 AMP).

The doctors came to us each day for four days with little to no hope. Our baby was on complete life support. My only hope rested in God’s intervention. God gave us His Word. He spoke a scripture into my heart and into Blaine’s on separate occasions—He will live and not die and declare the works of the Lord (Psalm 118:17).  Did I have moments of doubt? Yes! Did I struggle to hold on to hope at times? Yes.

After four days, our baby opened his eyes, and the doctors were optimistic. At seven days old, he no longer required life support but still needed a little help from the oxygen tank. The doctors admitted to us he was, “definitely one for the record books.” We held tight to that promise, trusting God would eventually open the floodgates of hope and completely restore our child–and He did. We took our completely healthy baby home when he was 12 days old. Our son is an adult today with no lasting affects from his traumatic first days of life in the NICU.

Hope means hoping when things are hopeless, or it is no virtue at all… As long as matters are really hopeful, hope is mere flattery or platitude; it is only when everything is hopeless that hope begins to be a strength.
G. K. CHESTERTON