Tears of Blood and Other Signs

I remember being fascinated as a kid by stories of an Italian statue of the Virgin Mary that wept blood. Thousands flocked to the shrine to witness the miracle and pray at the statue’s feet. I was both repelled by and attracted to the idea. Even as a very young child, I was skeptical, asking my grandmother again and again, “How is that possible?” pressing her for an answer. On the other hand, part of me yearned for the bloody tears to be real, because that would have offered the proof of God’s existence I desired.

I have trouble with miracles. And signs. And phrases like, “If it’s meant to be…” I guess I’m just too much of a control freak to leave everything to chance or divine intervention. Plus people are so careless with the word “miracle,” applying it to ordinary circumstances willy-nilly – like sun breaking through storm clouds on a wedding day. Not a miracle, people – just simple meteorology.

Lately though, I have been praying to God for a “sign.” I’ve had moments, questioning moments, in which I wonder if I should be pursuing this writing about faith. Perhaps this isn’t my calling; maybe I’m supposed to be doing something else, something that doesn’t require 5 a.m. mornings, by chance? Can you help me, God? Can you let me know? I’ll be honest with you…you’re going to have to be direct. You know me…you’ve got to hit me over the head with a sign. I tend to miss them…or roll my eyes.”

I prayed that prayer for a couple of days. And then, a few nights ago, I read this, from 1 Chronicles 16: 23-29, in The Message devotional book I have. The passage was titled, “Shout from the Mountaintops”:

Sing to God, everyone and everything!
Get out his salvation news every day!
Publish his glory among the godless nations,
his wonders to all races and religions.
And why? Because God is great – well worth praising!

God…is that you? Are you talking to me? The words leapt off the page, seeming to speak, shout, directly to me. “Get out his salvation news every day…publish his glory…” I don’t know about you, but to me, that sounds like the language of a writer. A sign? I still wasn’t sure.

The next day I checked my in-box, and saw this email from my Aunt Kathy:

Michelle, may God continue to inspire you to keep us laughing and yet thinking and striving to live as He has intended. Keep writing!

This was more direct – keep writing! Sort of hard to argue with that one. Perhaps God was speaking to me through Aunt Kathy?

Of course one can never prove, with scientific precision, a sign from God. That’s faith, after all. At some point you have to take the leap. I can ponder, and analyze, and hem and haw. Were those words a message from God? Was that a sign from him, advising me to plow ahead, to set my alarm for 5 a.m. yet again?

When I check in with my head, it’s saying, who knows? You could be reading into that text, you could be hearing what you want to hear from Aunt Kathy. But when I check in with my heart, I know. I feel it’s true; in my heart, I know those words were for me. God was speaking to me.