My third grandchild will arrive sometime in early April
(perhaps on my birthday?). We know what this sweet baby is because of a
high-tech ultrasound administered by a skillful professional. A boy. Another
grandson. With this revelation this baby moved from the neutral, generic it to the personal pronoun he. Once my daughter and son-in-law were
told this news they announced this beautiful boy’s name (Grandmothers don’t
have to have ultrasounds to know their grandchildren are beautiful). This child
will be called Atlas. Atlas Jensen. His father named him. A strong real name
meaning to carry, great strength and God is gracious. This grandmother’s
interpretation of his name? He will carry
the great strength of God’s grace. Suddenly this new baby became far more
real.
A name is indicative of what God is doing and being in our
lives. And this baby’s name carries the weight of what God has already done in
his life. Early in my daughter’s pregnancy she went to her doctor’s
appointment. She had several blood tests and an ultrasound and then was told
there were issues.
Her hormone levels did not rise as expected. They could not
find the baby’s heartbeat. The doctors explained to her and my son-in-law that
this pregnancy had a five percent chance of being viable. For almost ten days we
were held in a rising panic, a sobering reality—this baby might not be. She
came to me on a Friday and asked for me to pray; she asked for me to call on
the prayer warriors I know. And we prayed. The clinic staff would check her
levels and do another ultrasound on Monday. All through the weekend we
interceded for this child. We asked for his will to be done, but this
grandmother prayed for a miracle.
Monday came.
And so did our miracle. All levels rose considerably over the
weekend and suddenly this baby’s heartbeat was quite evident. The medical team
attributed it to a faulty diagnosis or unmeasurable levels—regardless there was
an attempt to explain away their assessment, but my children were assured that
this was now a viable and healthy pregnancy. Collectively we all breathed
deeply. Sighed with untranslatable utterances. Hope expanded the space inside
us.
God can call what is not as if it is*. God
is not limited. His knowledge is not impaired. God sees the IS rather than the NOT.
I think of this sweet baby now as our Little 5%.
This affirmation was more than enough. But God Most High always does more than enough.
A couple of weeks ago my daughter went for another appointment.
I waited for the affirmation that she
had heard his heartbeat and all was well. I didn’t know another ultra sound was
scheduled.
When the image of my grandson’s hand came to me I grasped for
words, for an explanation of the infinite enormity it created within me. I
couldn’t get my mind to form words on my tongue. It was just too much. His
hand, the palm, extended out in this affirmation of his existence, of his presence.
His little hand testified he had defied the statistics and predictions of
science. A witness to the fact that there are still things that must be
experienced rather than predicted or studied or proven. Atlas’ tiny hand is most
likely no bigger than the flattened pad of my thumb and yet so perfect. So
intricately designed. Through the haloed space of that ultra sound image I
studied his splayed fingers as they were pressed against the glass of his Mama’s
womb. Somewhere behind that space was a little face. I swallowed down hard as I
traced the lines of his palm. In that moment I knew Atlas—this little boy who will
possess great strength and be the 5% proof of the grace of God.
 |
| Atlas Jensen Rector |
Mary understood this IS of God.
While her womb was untouched and cavernous—waiting to someday
hold the son of Joseph—she was told she would conceive. And before the
conception she was told her baby would be a boy. Before the XX chromosome and
the XY chromosome were even considered she was informed she would deliver a son.
Her ultrasound wasn’t through sound waves passing through amniotic fluid, but announced
and assured by the messenger of God. Gabriel appeared to Joseph in a dream,
another confirmation of the first ultrasound. Mary will have a son…
Through Mary God sent the proof of his IS into the world.
Father God looked down and saw that tiny little hand pressed
up against Mary’s womb. He saw his Son turn and twist in the tight confines and
narrow cells of human space. God the Father traced the lines in the palm of his
Son’s hands and knew someday they would be marred by scars.
One day this Baby’s hands, calloused and broad, would extend
out as the affirmation of his Father’s existence, of his presence and of his favor. This Baby
would be the testimony and the witness to the invisible and the unknown. To the
mystery. He would reveal to God’s people that there are still things that must
be experienced rather than predicted or studied or proven.
In the spring I will hold Atlas in my arms, and I will rub and
kiss the creases of his little hand. I will snuggle my cheek against the ISness
of him—the very presence of him. And I
will thank God.
I am waiting. Anticipating. Trusting.
My waiting for the coming of Atlas is much akin to the real Advent. Hope is affirmed in the waiting.
God is able to call what is NOT into what IS.
Father,
During this season I
pray for those who are facing what seems like a 5% situation. Oh, Father,
remind them as my friend reminded me: You are the God of small percentages.
Father, I pray for those who are in circumstances that seem to be NOTS. Father,
you can call any circumstance from a not to an IS. Any. Father, I pray during
this season you would help us to wait and in waiting to trust you to take every
situation of ours and transform them into proofs of your incredible ISness.
Father, may we see in the creases of a baby’s hand your sovereignty, your
design and your grace. Enable us to see the scars in your Son’s hands and know
they are there because this baby of Advent became the Lamb of God. Amen and amen.
*This concept based on Romans 4:17
