I Heard Him in a Song

Three bars. That’s about all it takes. Three bars of this popular song:

and I’m itching to turn off the radio. Sometimes I listen, but most days it’s too painful.

On my brother’s first night in the hospital, I stayed with him. I sat in the recliner, while he drifted in an out of consciousness. As I waited through the quiet parts of the night, fear dominated my emotions. I could barely complete a thought, much less utter a coherent prayer. Desperate, I googled “healing prayers” and prayed words I couldn’t string together on my own. I tried to remember scripture and scrolled through my Bible app. I was not comforted.

Then I remembered the advice of a friend, “Invite Jesus into your difficult places.” So I prayed and invited Jesus into the hospital room, into our presence, into Derek’s presence.

A bit later, I found myself humming a song, one I didn’t know very well:

Holy Spirit, You are welcome here
Come flood this place and fill the atmosphere
Your glory, God, is what our hearts long for
to be overcome by Your presence, Lord

I didn’t know the name of the song. Couldn’t remember where I’d heard it before. And couldn’t remember any other lyrics. But there I was singing the chorus over and over again.

For the rest of the night, that song was my prayer. And I experienced a measure of peace. God was with us. I could feel His presence.

In the days and weeks that followed, I watched my brother teeter on the edge of death more times than I want to remember. I tried, on every occasion, to welcome the Holy Spirit’s presence. But some days, my faith was like sand running through my fingers. I couldn’t hold onto it and the harder I tried, the faster it ran out.

One day, after leaving the hospital, feeling completely bankrupt of spirit, I couldn’t bring myself to pray, let alone to hope.

What does God think, I wondered, when I don’t have any faith? What would he say to me now, when I can’t bring myself to speak to Him? Is He angry? Disappointed?

Then something broke through my thoughts – a song playing on the radio:

Holy Spirit, You are welcome here
Come flood this place and fill the atmosphere…

What timing. I didn’t have the energy to sing or pray, but I didn’t need to. Because it was as if Jesus was in the passenger seat singing the words for me. I could almost see Him there, inviting the Holy Spirit into the car.

As the song played, Jesus spoke to my heart, “The Holy Spirit is still welcome here, Nichole. Even when you have no strength, when your faith fails and hope runs dry, I am still here. When you can not pray, I am praying for you. I am not angry or disappointed. I want to be here. With you. Even now.”

A few days later, my brother came off the respirator and left the ICU. Over the next weeks, he overcame two bouts of internal bleeding and was able to visit with his son more than once. We spent time together, talking, laughing, praying. His recovery baffled doctors. We praised God for the mysterious miracle and waited as they prepared to discharge him to a nursing home for rehabilitation. Only they never did.

The phone call came a 1:00 a.m on June 19. Derek had developed sepsis.

What do you wear when you’re going to watch your brother die? With trembling hands, I put on my “I love you to the moon and back” t-shirt.

My husband and I picked up my mother and sister-in-law and drove to the hospital. What do you say when you’re on your way to watch your brother, your son, your husband die? We rode in silence.

Can you feel it? The dread? The fear? The oppressive weight of death and suffering and hopelessness?

God, where are you in this?

A few blocks from the hospital, a song came on the radio.
A song came on the radio.
Like the final bookend for a heartbreaking saga, a song came on the radio.

As we drove down lonely city streets,

Holy Spirit, You are welcome here…

As we turned onto Woodland Avenue,

Come flood this place and fill the atmosphere…

As we pulled into St. Francis Hospital,

Your glory God is what our hearts long for…

As we parked the car in an empty garage,

To be overcome by Your presence Lord…

During the long, silent walk from the car to the elevator to the ICU lobby, the words lingered in my mind,

Let us become more aware of Your presence…

When they buzzed us through the ICU doors, like in a prison, only we were the ones walking death row, as the doctors and nurses greeted us with knowing glances and sad smiles, before shifting their eyes away,

Let us experience the glory of Your goodness…

In that room, in that room, where my brother lay dying…

Holy Spirit, You are welcome here… 

As he whispered for help while I held his hand,

Come flood this place and fill the atmosphere…

When I look back on those hellish 47 days and find myself questioning God’s faithfulness, doubting His presence, wondering what it all was for, I remember a song…placed on my heart in the silence of that first sleepless night at the hospital with my brother.

I remember a song…sung to me by Jesus as I drove alone in my car, when I had no faith, no strength to sing myself.

I remember a song…the last song on the radio just before my brother died.

Like a tower of stones, those moments, one upon the other, are my Ebenezer. I think God knew I’d need them.

To remember, in the days of doubt and despair, when I find myself asking, “Why? Why let him get better only to snatch him away? Did you hear our prayers? Were you even there? Do you even care?”

To remember, that we were never alone, that He was there, from beginning to end, and every moment in between.

He was there.

I heard Him in a song.

© Nichole Liza Q.