God is Here: Where is God When I Receive an Unexpected Diagnosis?

I can still picture myself sitting there at the kitchen table. After putting my children down for naps, I casually thumbed through my son’s discharge paperwork from our appointment that morning. My eyes glanced through his stats — height, weight, BMI, blood pressure, and temperature. Everything looked normal until my eyes drifted further down the page where I read, “It is my opinion that this child most likely has cerebral palsy.” 

The whole room got a bit fuzzy after I read that line. My heart sank into my stomach, and I felt the weight of my body held up only by the chair beneath me. My eyes drifted to Ransom’s highchair. For those few moments, I couldn’t call to mind my son’s face. I could only see the words “cerebral palsy.” 

Up until this point the doctors had been saying over and over that Ransom would grow out of his struggles — his airway disorder, his swallowing disorder, his feeding tube dependence, his global developmental delay. Until this moment, I trusted that these things were temporary, but this news communicated the possibility of a lifetime of challenges. Now was not the time to google the diagnosis or call my husband and family. This was the time to grieve. 

So I sat at my kitchen table, put my head in my hands and wept...mourning those words and allowing them to soak in. Ransom had several other diagnoses on his chart, but for some reason, this one was the big hitter. This one felt heavy, and my body and soul felt heavy in receiving it. 

Hope in three small words

The hum of the vacuum cleaner in another room reminded me that I was not alone. Delores, the woman who cleans our house, was diligently working away. (Let me pause and say that this has been one of my favorite gifts I have ever received. If you are reading this and wondering how to serve a family wrestling with a childhood diagnosis, house cleaning is such a help! Cleaning simply cannot be a priority; yet, living in a clean home brings such relief.) 

The vacuum cleaner stopped when Delores found me at the table crying. One hand rested on the kitchen table, and the other held up her mop. Her hair was in a tight bun, and her forehead was glistening. She asked what was wrong and why I was crying. I told her through tears that the doctors think Ransom has cerebral palsy. I was unsure if she understood fully since Delores is from the Dominican Republic and her first language is Spanish. Despite a language barrier, I am positive that the Holy Spirit used her mouth to communicate one of the most important truths I could hear in that moment. She simply said, “God is here.” 

It seemed too simplistic, but the more I meditated on that statement, the more comfort I drew from it. This was a rock-solid promise. She didn’t say “It’s going to be OK” or launch into a monologue about the sovereignty of God. She didn’t rebuke me for my tears. In fact, her eyes glistened with fervor. Sometimes the simplest constructions of the English language convey the most powerful truths — isn’t that why the simple faith of a child is so astounding? I am deeply grateful she said only three words in that moment.

I was not alone at that kitchen table reading an unexpected diagnosis. God was there. He was there before He formed Ransom in my belly. He was there before we heard any of the other diagnoses. And I knew He was there in that moment. Not only had he been faithful in His presence in the past, but He would continue to be near.

Becoming more aware of God’s presence

We often think of God’s presence in terms of feeling. We feel him present on mountaintops. We feel him present when a particular song strikes a chord in our hearts and tears begin to flow. We feel him present when we feel loved and cared for by those around us. All of these feelings of God’s presence are tender gifts of the Lord and should be treasured. However, God’s presence does not rush in and out like the wind. God’s presence is an objective reality — a promised experience for all believers. The Holy Spirit, the very presence of God dwells in and with those who follow Jesus Christ.

We don’t need candles and perfectly curated stillness to experience God’s presence. I can sit at a sticky kitchen table covered in the remnants of a toddler lunch, sit in a sterile waiting room outside the ICU, or drive down the highway while my children wail with impatience. Everywhere I am, there God is.

The nearness of the Holy Spirit makes all the difference. If He is right here, I can cry out to him at any time. When I don’t have the words to say and only tears come, the Holy Spirit prays for me (Romans 6:27). My cries do not fall on deaf ears...they do not melt into my pillow. In fact, the Bible says that the Lord keeps track of all of our sorrows and collects each tear in a bottle (Psalm 58:6). Surely Jesus Christ, Man of Sorrows, is a near and dear friend at all times, but especially in moments of disappointment, shock, and broken heartedness (Psalm 34:18).

Not only does God’s nearness allow for communication with Him, but it also brings joy and hope. Psalm 16:11 says, “You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forever.” Sorrow mixed with joy is quite the ironic experience. We grieve the unexpected and hard bits of of our lives, but our grieving will have an end culminating in the tangible, face-to-face presence of God. This is my hope. This is why I can say now, “It is well with my soul.” One day, I won’t question His nearness to me, all my tears will be dried and the broken things rebuilt. In the meantime, there is a depth of joy knowing that I am truly never deserted, for God is here.   

Where are you now? Is your heart heavy with news of your own? Are you carrying a burden for someone you love? Trust that God is there and believe the truth. Say it out loud: “God is here!” 

”God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”
- Psalm 46:1

“You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.”
- Psalm 139:5

“But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.”
- Ephesians 2:13

About the Author

Mary Brantley Meade lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her husband and three young children. Her background is early childhood education, and she most recently received a masters in counseling from Westminster Theological Seminary. When she’s not counseling or writing, you can find her enjoying the outdoors with her family.