Brenda Krawagna shares faith lessons she has learned on her health journey.
Not long ago, I asked God for a miracle and was disappointed when He gave me surgery instead. I realize how ridiculous this sounds, but at the time it made sense to me.
I needed a specialist for a serious problem, but all the surgeons had a three-year waiting list. After much researching, I found a qualified surgeon in Europe and was willing to pay out of pocket. Just as I was about to make the down payment, I got an unexpected call from a surgeon who had an opening the following week. He was a top specialist in the field, had just moved from the UK, and he had availability. His office was ten minutes from my home, and I could have surgery within a few weeks.
My husband called it a miracle. But I was not convinced. I had asked God to heal me. I had prayed and declared Scripture, believing I had already received my healing. In fact, our whole church congregation prayed over me, my small group fasted and prayed, and I received prophecy of my healing. This would be surgery number 26, why would I celebrate that? It felt like I had asked God for bread and He was giving me a stone.
Looking back, it is clear that I was completely missing the mark and had lost focus. I had become so fixated on what I thought my miracle should look like that I missed what God was already doing.
It’s easy to recognize the big spectacular miracles – the cancer disappears, the chains of addiction break, the blind can suddenly see. Those stories are beautiful and worthy of celebration. But what about the things that don’t look like a big dramatic testimony? Like the highly qualified surgeon who happens to be ten minutes from my home who can squeeze me in? Or maybe it’s the doctor who notices something another had missed, the friend who regularly prays for you, the strength to get through one more difficult day, or the unexpected peace that envelops you despite unchanged circumstances. Could God be working there too?
I have spent much of my life looking for a big crossing-the-Red-Sea type of miracle, one that is an unmistakable move of God. But Scripture also gives us manna.
Manna wasn’t spectacular in the same way as the parting of the Red Sea, but it was daily provision that was enough for that day. That very distinction has changed the way I look at my own life.
I still want the Red Sea miracle. I still pray for healing because I know God can do it. I don’t think we should lower our expectations of God just because we haven’t received the answer we wanted. But then again, I also don’t want to become so focused on the anticipated miracle that I don’t notice the grace already lying at my feet. God can work through ordinary things as well as extraordinary ones, we just have to learn to notice. 
Sometimes God parted the sea. Sometimes He sent manna. Sometimes He used a muddy mixture of dirt and saliva. And sometimes He worked through the hands of people He gifted with knowledge and skill.
As for me, I am still sitting in the waiting room, waiting for the next two surgeries on the horizon. But I’m learning to look around. Maybe the question isn’t only “When will my miracle come?” but also “What is God doing here that I might otherwise miss?”
And if I take a step back even further, we have all received the greatest miracle of all – the parting of our own Red Sea – the day we let Jesus into our hearts. And that is enough.
Brenda Krawagna of Oshawa, Ont., is author of Healing on Trial – Faith, Suffering, and Finding God in the Waiting Room, which explores the many different Christian perspectives on healing, unanswered prayer, and learning to trust God when the miracle we hope for doesn’t come (www.BrendaKrawagna.com). She has a background in emergency medicine and more than 25 years working with people affected by catastrophic brain injuries.