Behind me I can hear him coughing, and it is breaking my heart. "No!" I want to shriek. "I want him to be healed, I want that to be gone! I want there to be magic, miracles!" Gone is my suspicion of prayer-healing, gone is my cynicism toward living whole lives. Instead, I find myself grieved and shaken, wondering what and why God is doing. Why hold out healing, I wonder, only to draw it back?
I don't know. But I do know I would rather have the growing questions about why God's working as He is, than the blank flat droning belief that He does not deal at all in miracles.