Trusting When Breathing Fails
Kara Dedert, Guest Writer
TODAY’S TREASURE
Then the LORD God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature (Genesis 2:7).
This morning was episode 9,674 of strange things I never envisioned doing as a mother — training to operate a cough assist machine for Calvin. Essentially, it’s a machine that forces air into the lungs, creating a mechanized deep breath and forced exhale.
The very word “breathe” makes my blood pressure ratchet up a few notches. Because the lack of breathing most certainly does not mean life, and we’ve walked on tip-toe on this thin line for much longer than I thought my sanity could take.
My ears are tuned to breathing — its lapses, wheeziness, shallowness, its constant fight against collapsing airways and fluid. Ronchi, wheezing, pops, crackles, and gurgles are the lingo of the respiratory world I never wanted to know but are essential in daily conversation with Calvin’s caregivers.
My eyes can quickly assess the results of struggle – bluish fingernails, dusky lips, retraction in the neck and diaphragm, and the strong rhythmic movement of accessory muscles trying to compensate for lack of breathing.
So many times, I have wished I could just BREATHE for Calvin, and I find myself holding my breath more times than I can count.
We’ve done rescue breathing for him when he’s turned blue, sat up hours of the night trying to break up secretions to allow air to pass, fought panic as he spiraled into respiratory failure, and celebrated with joy as we watched him begin to take breaths independent of the ventilator in the PICU. We’ve begged and prayed a thousand times as a silent plea or urgent cry, please give him breath, Lord!
Today we hooked up Calvin to a machine that forced big deep breaths into his lungs. His chest swelled and lifted as it filled slowly for 4 seconds and then released. A huge grin perked up on his face. Over and over, it filled his lungs, and he began to laugh! I can only imagine how good it feels to have your lungs fill up with oxygen.
I couldn’t help but smile along with Calvin at his delight at being able to take big breaths. The picture of God breathing man’s first breath filled my mind as the machine forced another big burst of air into his lungs:
Then the LORD God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature (Genesis 2:7).
Breath means life. Most of us are breathing anywhere from 16,000 to 23,000 times a day. It’s incredible to think how God sustains our lives, moment by moment, with the simple act of breathing. Paul writes that God doesn’t depend on us but us on Him:
He himself gives to all mankind life and breath and everything (Acts 17:25).
Scripture indicates that our breathing is an extension of God’s “breath” and Spirit sustaining us. His initial breath into Adam gave mankind life, and His constant presence keeps us breathing. One of Job’s friends acknowledged that if God were to take away “His Spirit and breath,” we would perish and return to dust.
What about those who are trusting in following Christ and are literally struggling to breathe? Is there a very literal application of this truth? This quickly moves from theory to reality when you’re with someone (or are someone) gasping for breath. Is Calvin being less sustained by God? What about those who are not following Christ but are breathing just fine?
We know that all people (believers or not) are part of a creation that is groaning under the weight of a fallen world. This includes broken bodies, minds, and all diseases and illnesses. The weight of the fallen world has been excruciatingly painful as I’ve watched Calvin succumb to the intensity of brokenness within his own body. Watching this brokenness has felt like it just might break me along with it. I am broken, but I am also more desperate and reliant on Christ in it.
We know that Christ came, submitted Himself to the world’s weight, and then conquered the cause of it. He suffered agony in His body and soul. It was so intense that He asked His friends to stay with Him and for His Father to let Him forego the suffering. But He stayed, didn’t He? Willingly and purposefully gave Himself to it so that suffering would not be the final word for His people. He marked victory over the power of sin and death when air filled His lungs in the tomb that housed death. He died. He rose. He is victorious. And that means everything to us today. That means that when my son takes his final breath, I can also rejoice, knowing restoration and full redemption are happening.
We know that the Spirit of God literally dwells in believers even while we remain in bodies deeply affected by sin and the fallen world. At first, this seems incredibly defeating. Why only partial redemption? If God can give new life, why doesn’t He give new bodies? 2 Corinthians tells us:
But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us (2 Corinthians 4:7, NIV).
In God’s wise plan, He works good with our weakness and brokenness. It displays His glory. And even while our bodies continue to endure the brokenness of the world, the Holy Spirit is working life in our souls and eventually will restore even our broken bodies.
Think of Jesus — when He died, his physical body failed. Breath and spirit departed. But the Holy Spirit raised Him again with life and breath. He obtained life through the way of the cross for us; as His followers, we also are called to the way of the cross for the life He has secured for us.
His victory guarantees ours for those of us who hope in Jesus Christ.
His restored breath gives me the promise that my son will one day breathe. Free from chronic lung disease, free from the effects of ribs crushing his lungs, free from the effects of a body affected by the fallen world.
And more – Jesus’s restored breath means that the effects of sin on our breath have their days numbered. The decline of life will eventually take our breath, but only to introduce newness of life. Our bodies will continue to crack and fail but take heart. In the midst of the breaking, new life is growing strong and sure.
Originally posted on www.karadedert.com, Sep 6, 2019
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Kara Dedert is the creator of Root and Grow, a midwest mom to five and wife to Darryl. She writes regularly on faith, special needs, parenting and home. You can visit her Website, and her writing have been featured at Key Ministry, Live Better With Disability, Break the Parenting Mold, the Bible Study Magazine and Fox 17.
For more from Daily Treasure please visit MARKINC.ORG.
Originally published Saturday, 19 November 2022.
SHARE
