When I AM Showed Up
By Ben Robert 

Scripture:
They came to the edge of the village where they were headed. He acted as if he were going on but they pressed him: “Stay and have supper with us. It’s nearly evening; the day is done.” So he went in with them. And here is what happened: He sat down at the table with them. Taking the bread, he blessed and broke and gave it to them. At that moment, open-eyed, wide-eyed, they recognized him. And then he disappeared. Luke 24:30-31

Devotional:
For those of you who saw Cale’s sermon last week, live or online, he gave us a bit of homework. Our assignment was to identify a moment when I AM (God) really showed up for you. This week’s devotional is my I AM moment.

Twenty-five years ago, Jenn and I became parents. I don’t want to get bogged down in the details, but suffice it to say, our child arrived in the world with some assembly required. Over the course of their childhood, more than 25 surgeries were necessary. There were five major surgeries in just that first year.

Becoming a parent is a big transition for any family. The sleep deprivation alone can make you a little nutty. It only gets amplified when you have frequent hospital stays. On top of that, we were feeling quite isolated. Our nearest family was over 1,500 miles away. My own career plans had fallen apart, and there was an ever-present fear of medical bankruptcy circling overhead. To add icing to the cake, I was made aware that 80–90% of marriages of parents dealing with family health issues end in divorce. That number has since been thoroughly debunked, but I did not know that at the time.

It was during the post-op recovery from the fourth surgery that something broke in me. Our child was having work done on the digestive tract. It required fasting before and after surgery, until bowel sounds resumed. Because opioids suppress digestion, the doctors were extremely conservative in their approach to pain management. Our child was in pain, hungry, and inconsolable; Jenn and I were powerless to console each other.

The only thing we could do to reduce the wailing to a whimper was to pull a wagon through the corridors of Fairfax Hospital. I was at the end of my rope. I could not go on.

Enter Jesus.

She was going by the name Patty Morrell at the time.

Patty was a face I knew from church. At that particular moment, I did not even know her name. I just wanted to get rid of her. I began mentally rehearsing some spiritual trope that would acknowledge her good deed but allow me to get back to my wallowing.

Patty-Jesus would have none of it.

She brought our child a gift. The simplest gift you can imagine. It was an empty milk jug and a dozen non-spring clothespins. She demonstrated dumping out the jug and then individually dropping the clothespins back in. Leave it to Jesus to know the perfect age-appropriate toy.

We achieved distraction!

If the roles were reversed, I would have taken the win and made a quick exit. But Patty-Jesus was not done with us yet. She did not share any sage advice. In fact, as I recall, she said very little. But that woman walked the corridors of Fairfax Hospital as we pulled our little wagon for hours!

Finally, our nurse tracked us down in the hallway. It was time for the next dose of morphine. Moments after it was administered, our kiddo fell asleep. Patty-Jesus took her leave, and Jenn and I fell asleep in our hospital chairs. When we all awoke, we were refreshed and able to continue the journey.

One of the definitions of faith in Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary is “firm belief in something for which there is no proof.”

I share that because, for a brief time, I had no faith.

I had proof.

There was indeed a God who worked through his servant Patty Morrell. That day, I AM was there, cleverly disguised as a middle-aged woman carrying a milk jug and some clothespins.

Do you have an I AM moment you would like to share with the Arcola community? A time when God showed up in your life in a way you didn’t expect—or perhaps only recognized later? If so, the Devotional Writers Ministry would love to hear from you. You don’t have to consider yourself a “writer.” You just need a story, a little willingness to reflect on it, and a desire to share it with others. Contact Ben Roberts to learn more.