“I purposed that if I prayed for a thousand and no one got healed, that I would pray for another thousand.”
– Todd Bentley
This morning the vet called and recommended that we put Mocha down. She’s no longer able to stand and she’s in a lot of pain. We gave her permission to do so, and also to perform a necropsy (the animal equivalent of an autopsy) to see what happened.
This is the first loss among our goat herd. That she was the best of all our herd and supposed to be the cornerstone of our Milk Enough project makes it especially tough. Since we started our little farm, I’ve been continually confronted with my own desire to have everything neat and easy and comfortable. I’ve recognized – in a way I never knew before – how much I try to avoid problems. And when problems do happen, my first instinct is to quit. I get easily overwhelmed and then I just want out. But I’m coming to realize that by avoiding the problems- the seemingly ugly side of life – I’m selling myself short.
I’ve been praying lately that God would increase my faith and teach me about healing. If I want to learn about healing, guess what I’m going to have to start experiencing a lot of?! I was fascinated to learn, almost a year ago, that the critical parts of our brain only grow when we try to do something we can’t do and failure is a necessary part of learning. In what ways is that true spiritually, as well as physically?
I’m not doing myself any favors when I avoid conflict. I’m not giving God the opportunity to teach me if I’m running away from the things that are hard. Or painful. Others have lost far, far more than we have and stood up to say:
“The Lord gives and the Lord takes away, Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
And so, I thank God for this death. I thank Him for not taking the least of our herd, but the very best. I thank Him for the lessons He is teaching us, and will continue to teach us. I thank Him for the journey.
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.
— Henry David Thoreau