I came home from a long shift. I was tired. I’d just settled into a soft chair when I heard the pained cry of my seven-year-old son. I told my wife, “He’ll just have a scar because I’m not going back to the ER tonight.” 

A few moments later Jacob’s older brother carried him up the stairs. I gave him a hug and lifted the edge of a towel to see the wound in his left eyebrow. He and his brother had been Sumo wrestling when Jacob collided with a piece of furniture. Soon, I was back in the ER.

I saw Jacob’s anxiety. It eclipsed his physical pain. I felt it. I reassured him he would be fine and proceeded to anesthetize his wound. A few moments later, he choked back tears and said, “Please, Dad, don’t hurt me anymore.”

Dozens of thoughts raced through my mind. I knew the first needle was the most painful. I knew how brief his pain would be and what the scar would look like if I left the wound unsutured. I had perspective from experience. He had only pain, anxiety, and fear, all held in-check by his trust in me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and again reassured him. After one more injection, I proceeded to suture his anesthetized wound without further pain, but his comment had already shifted my relationship with Heaven. I’d used different words to say the same thing in so many prayers.

I imagined a simplified dialogue between untold millions of supplicants and an infinitely loving Creator who knows how brief the pain will be and what spiritual scars will look like if left unattended. I could almost hear the conversation.

“Please, God, don’t hurt me anymore.”

“But this is part of your earthly experience. I’m helping you.”

“Yes, I know, but please don’t hurt me anymore.”

“Trust me. I love you. There’s purpose in this. I’ll help you through it.”

“Yes, yes, I know, but this is just too difficult. Trust me, God. Please, make it stop.”

Sometimes our well-intended petitions are shortsighted. Thanks to Jacob, I now try to exercise more trust in a Creator who loves me more than I love myself and sees the purpose of my struggles. Rather than informing Heaven of the facts, as I see them, I try to acknowledge the benevolence of a Creator who is healing of my wounds.