Where's my miracle?

My mother died of cancer in 1998. She was 78.

I recently talked to a woman recording artist who says that God cured her of cancer ... twice. She shares her amazing story at concerts around the country. My first thought was My mom should have been a recording artist.

Ever wonder why some people die well before their time and others don't? Ever been tempted to blame God? Allow me to share some personal insights on the matter.

I believe that God isn't in the miracle business--and for good reason. Even the woman singer admitted that, when her doctor diagnosed her second cancer, she was totally confused. She'd been publicly praising God for her first healing, and now the cancer was back. How could she go on? When the second cancer seemingly vanished, her faith revived. And so did her praise.

What are we supposed to think when we stand beside the freshly turned grave of a loved one? For me, the answer is found at the cross of Jesus. God's Son died before His time, too. No miracle saved Him. Yet He never uttered one word of confusion, never shook an angry fist skyward, never doubted. Why? Because His faith was based on belief, not miracles. He understood that death was the result of sin, not a lack of divine intervention. He recognized the random awfulness of evil and, by His actions, sent a powerful message down through time. "Whether your body fights off cancer or succumbs to it," He says to me, "our heavenly Father is still in control and will someday vanquish all death and sin forever. Just be patient."

I plan to spend eternity with my sweet mother, marveling at the one miracle we both experienced. When that miracle took place won't matter at all.