In the late fall of 2013, our first daughter arrived. Lily Joy Asbury was born weighing 6 pounds even, perfectly healthy in every way. Anna and I were immediately smitten. She was the most beautiful thing we’d ever beheld, and from the moment we saw her, she captured our hearts completely. I remember rocking her back and forth as I sang prophetically over her each night before bed. I would declare truth and destiny over her with new songs each evening.
Everything changed about three months later when Lily had her first (of many) life-threatening seizures. It was very early one morning when Anna violently shook me awake, screaming, “She’s not breathing, Cory! She’s not breathing!”
My body rose in a shell-shocked, zombie-like state as I tried to make sense of what was happening. “Call 9-1-1!” I blurted out without even thinking about it. Before we had time to process what was happening, Anna (in her pajama shorts without a coat, on a blizzard-like winter morning) grabbed Lily’s limp, pale body, jumped into her 4Runner and headed to the hospital about four minutes from our house. Thank God she took matters into her own hands because it was another 15 to 20 minutes before the ambulance reached our home, and who knows whether Lily’s infant body would’ve lasted that long without medical intervention.
Trying frantically to process what was happening, I woke Gabriel (our then 4-year-old) and rushed to the hospital. When I got there, they were still trying to resuscitate Lily on an operating table. Gabriel burst out crying, scared and confused; I quickly followed his lead. It was one of the scariest moments of our lives. We watched as doctors worked to revive her. As a dad, the feeling of helplessness was devastating. There was nothing I could do to fix my baby girl. All I could do was watch and pray (in tongues, very loudly).
My mind immediately began to wander to the darkest places. Is Lily going to die? What have I done to offend God? Why would He take my baby away from me? What deep, dark sin have I committed to stir God’s anger against my family? Is. This. My. Fault?
A few days later, after what felt like a lifetime, Lily was discharged from the hospital. Unfortunately, the doctors weren’t able to give us any conclusive answers as to why this had happened to her, so we left confused, distraught and defeated. For the first few weeks following the incident, we pretended it hadn’t shaken us to the core. It wasn’t until it happened again (and again and again and again) that I truly wrestled with the question: Is God good, or is He not?
Click here to read more.
SOURCE: Charisma News