Pause. Think. Pray.

My junior year came to a good start. I got most of the classes I wanted, and my workload hasn't gotten crazy... yet. The Lord has been making beautiful art through me in chapel each week as I've played the keys, sung praises, and shared verses in between songs that have ministered to my heart. I've heard prayer requests every day in classes such as theology and music theory, and admittedly, I haven't remembered most of them. The hardships my classmates have spoken about don't affect me, and ever since I can remember my brain capacity has always been taken up by one topic: Me.

Last week, things changed. My Wednesday morning classes were tangibly dampered by an inevitable sorrow, but I had no idea why. Finally, in fifth period theology class, the news was spoken: a homeschooled Christian teenage girl and member of the church that meets at our school on Sundays, Ellen, had attempted suicide without success. She was now in critical condition.

Oh, that's sad, I thought. I hope she survives and uses her testimony for the glory of God.

Things at our school went on as usual, though there was no student or faculty member who was unaware of Ellen's story. My news feed blew up with updates and prayer requests, and when I humbly fell before the Lord, thought about the possible condition of this girl's heart and mind  and asked Jesus to heal her body, I wept. My heart sunk just thinking about it: a girl, just my age, who has been redeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ. Something happened to her that caused her to think that hanging herself was okay, ideal even. That she was so incredibly downcast to actually go through with that.

Part of me wants to say I can't blame her. I've been in her place before, placing way too many pills in front of me with the plan to overdose on them, all the while knowing that I had a relationship with Jesus Christ and thus, an opportunity to have joy and do great things for God. I couldn't explain to you the condition of my heart and mind at those times if I tried, much less that of Ellen. But her story stuck with me, since I related to her in more ways that most people know.

I prayed for this girl multiple times a day, fervently and with a heavy heart. I said to God, "Lord, I know You can work miracles, and I don't know if that's Your plan for Ellen, but I really hope it is. Whatever You do choose to do in this situation, I pray that You would somehow be glorified and Your truth would be proclaimed even in the midst of this horrible trial." The next day I was informed that Ellen's family had been sharing the gospel to each and every person who stepped foot in her hospital room. God found a way to be glorified, and I thought that was awesome.

In the beginning of this week, the doctors declared that there was nothing they could do. She'd made no improvements since first being admitted to the hospital, and it was left up to her parents to make the decision whether or not to take her off life support. And so they prayed, and before long God gave them His peace that passes understanding surrounding their next step. It was time for Ellen to go home, and they were ready to pull the plug.

Upon hearing this update, my mind immediately went to the story of my youth leader's granddaughter. As she was fighting for her life ten days after her birth, the doctors didn't think she'd make it the rest of the day. My youth leader's husband cried, "Lord, she's in so much pain. Just take her home." But He didn't. He chose instead to miraculously heal her, and they recently celebrated her third birthday. Maybe it's like that, I thought. Yeah, God will definitely heal her. We just need to wait. I couldn't rationalize the idea of a girl my age dying; it just didn't seem right.

I was first informed of Ellen's final update on Tuesday night via Facebook. I was working feverishly on my benefit show, and while waiting for a sponsorship letter to print, I refreshed my news feed.

Pause.

My heart felt like an anchor in my chest, keeping me from any possibility of feeling contentment at all. I called my mom and told her to pray. I said, "Yeah, it's really sad," and entered the confines of my bedroom to talk to God about it.

For the first time in my life, I now feel that deep, painful feeling of not knowing how something so horrible could happen. I cannot explain it, and I won't try. I know that there is sin in the world, and that Heaven is perfect glory. Beyond that, I cannot logically argue myself out of the searing sorrow surrounding this.

Think.

 "God is our refuge and strength,
   an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
   and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
   and the mountains quake with their surging...
                           Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
   he lifts his voice, the earth melts.
 The LORD Almighty is with us;
   the God of Jacob is our fortress.
                        
 Come and see the works of the LORD,
   the desolations he has brought on the earth.
He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth;
   he breaks the bow and shatters the spear,
   he burns the shields with fire.
'Be still, and know that I am God;
   I will be exalted among the nations,
   I will be exalted in the earth.'
  The LORD Almighty is with us;
   the God of Jacob is our fortress."

~Psalm 46: 1-3, 7-11

Pray.