The Name He Never Forgot

"Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of My hands."
— Isaiah 49:15-16

The summer of 2015 is a season I will never forget.

Every week, a group of us gathered together to pray for my friend.

Not casual prayers.

Not prayers we whispered quickly before moving on with our day.

These were the kind of prayers that came from deep within our souls.

We prayed with hands clasped tightly.

We prayed through tears.

We prayed with faith that God was able.

I even put my friend's name inside a plastic bag and taped it to my shower wall.

It became my little prayer room.

Every morning when that shower door closed, I wanted her name to be the first thing my heart lifted before the throne of grace.

Stage IV colon cancer.

She had already battled breast cancer.

More than once.

More than twice.

And she had won.

So we prayed.

We believed.

We pleaded.

And then...

she died.

When the Answer Isn't the One We Asked For

As the months passed and we began to realize God was calling her home, our prayers changed.

We stopped asking for more surgeries.

We stopped asking for more procedures.

We stopped asking for more complications to be reversed.

Instead, we prayed for comfort.

For peace.

For good days.

For moments with her family.

But the complications continued.

The surgeries and procedures became more difficult.

Every good day seemed to be followed by another wave of suffering.

And eventually, God called her home.

I remember walking to my car after her funeral feeling numb.

Disappointed.

Angry.

Mostly hurt.

Because I didn't know what to do with a God who could have healed her...but didn't.

When Prayer Becomes Painful

The weeks that followed were harder than I expected.

My prayers felt forced.

Empty.

Almost fake.

I found myself growing cynical.

I wondered if maybe it would have been easier if we had never prayed so fervently.

Maybe then I wouldn't have to wrestle with the questions.

Maybe then I wouldn't have to face the disappointment.

Slowly, the pain created distance between my heart and my Father.

I didn't stop believing in God.

But I stopped running toward Him.

I kept Him at a safe distance because I didn't know what to do with my hurt.

I refused to take down my friend's name from my shower wall.

Not because I was afraid I would forget her.

I never could.

I left it there because I wasn't ready to forget how broken I felt.

That name represented more than my friend.

It represented unanswered prayers.

Confusion.

Grief.

And a relationship with God I wasn't sure how to navigate.

My prayer room was no longer my refuge.

It had become a reminder of everything I couldn't understand.

So I hid my shattered heart.

And I kept God at arm's length.

The God Who Pursues Us in Our Hurt

A few weeks later, I sat in a church pew with pain in my head and pain in my heart.

My pastor, at the time, walked to the pulpit and asked a question that immediately captured my attention:

"Have you ever prayed and wondered where God is? Have you felt like He let you down, so you pushed Him away and are now keeping Him at arm's length?"

My heart began to beat a little faster.

Those were the exact thoughts that had been circling in my mind.

Thoughts I had invited in.

Thoughts I had allowed to stay.

I was afraid if I thought about them too long, the tears I had refused to cry would finally come pouring out.

Then my pastor turned to Isaiah 49.

God's people were living through their own season of devastation.

Their city was in ruins.

Their walls had been destroyed.

They wondered if God had forgotten them.

Had their prayers fallen on deaf ears?

But listen to God's response:

"Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of My hands; your walls are continually before Me."
— Isaiah 49:15-16

And as those words were spoken, I felt the Lord whisper something directly to my heart.

"You are My tattoo. You are what I choose to permanently remember. Like your friend's name on your shower wall, your name is etched into My hands where I can always see you. I know you are hurting, beloved."

They weren't audible words.

But I knew Who spoke them.

"My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me."
— John 10:27

Those words threatened to undo me.

Not because they hurt.

Because they had the power to heal.

God Had Never Moved

I'll be honest.

I tried to shift my thoughts away from that moment.

I thought about lunch.

My grocery list.

Anything that would keep me from fully receiving what God was trying to show me.

Because sometimes healing requires us to surrender the very things we have been using to protect ourselves.

But God continued to pursue me.

Through friends who showed me His love.

Through verses that reminded me of His character.

Through songs that spoke of His steadfast love and unfailing goodness.

Slowly, the wall of isolation I had built between us began to crack.

The light of His presence started breaking through my darkness.

The God I thought had abandoned me was the same God who had been patiently pursuing me all along.

Trusting God's Character When We Don't Understand His Plan

Even all these years later, there are moments when I struggle to reconcile everything that happened that summer.

I don't think I will ever fully understand why my friend had to suffer the way she did.

I don't understand why God chose to call her home when He had the power to heal her.

But I am learning something important:

When I cannot understand God's plan, I can trust God's character.

God was with my friend.

He heard every prayer.

He saw every tear.

And He answered.

It just wasn't the answer we had imagined.

The greatest healing my friend received was not a temporary healing of her earthly body.

It was complete healing in the presence of Jesus.

And that gives me hope.

The Names Engraved on His Hands

I have walked with God long enough to know there is no substitute for a relationship with Him.

He is the One who gives meaning to my life.

He is the One who remains faithful even when I don't understand.

My friend's name was written on my shower wall for a season.

But her name has always been engraved on His hands.

And so is mine.

And so is yours.

If you belong to Christ, you are not forgotten.

Not on the days when your faith feels strong.

Not on the days when questions overwhelm you.

Not on the days when unanswered prayers leave you hurting.

He remembers.

He pursues.

He loves.

And His hands forever prove it.