Cheated? - by Jeff Davidson (Originally published January 26, 2009)

The question comes up often. Usually, it’s from well-intentioned people who don’t fully understand the perspective God has given me when it comes to raising a child with disabilities.

Sometimes, though, I ask it of myself—usually during a quiet pity party I’ve thrown in my own mind:

“Don’t you feel cheated out of the life you imagined for you and your son? Don’t you feel robbed of so many blessings, raising a child who can’t talk, can’t walk, and can’t do the things a typical 11-year-old should be able to do? Don’t you feel deprived of all the activities a father and a typical child get to experience together?”

It’s funny—when someone else asks me that question, I get defensive. But when I allow myself to wander into that darker space, I start to listen to a whisper that sounds a lot like my own voice. And if I’m not careful, I let those thoughts in—and they wreck me for a while.

I spiral quickly. I get discouraged. I let the weight of my circumstances steal my joy and blind me to the blessings that are right in front of me.

But over the weekend, I had a conversation that shifted my perspective. I spoke with a missionary serving in Central Asia and asked how I could pray for his region. His response surprised me.

He said, “Please don’t pray that the persecution of Christians in our area ends. Pray that we would be able to endure it.”

He went on to explain that the greatest revelations of God—the most powerful manifestations of His presence—often come during the bleakest and most desperate circumstances.

I’ve found that to be true in my own life.

Some of the hardest seasons we’ve faced have led to the most profound experiences of God’s presence.

That conversation made me reflect on how much time I’ve wasted asking God to remove painful circumstances—pleading with Him to take away the suffering—when I could have been asking Him for the strength to endure.

Looking back, every trial has been a lesson, a moment when God revealed more of Himself to me. I’m learning, as Scripture teaches, to take every thought captive and measure it against the truth of God’s Word. If it doesn’t align, I need to reject it before it takes root.

So, do I feel cheated?

Yes. Absolutely.

I’ve been cheated out of having to worry about my son walking away from God.

I’ve been cheated out of a shallow understanding of God’s unconditional love.

I’ve been robbed of the fear that my son will make destructive choices or fall into the enemy’s traps.

I’ve been denied a life of spiritual complacency, one where I never fully grasp God’s mercy, His strength, His power, and His perfect plan for our lives.

Cheated? Oh yeah.

But really—who’s cheating who?

Update from Becky:
Jeff wrote those words when Jon Alex was just 11 years old. Now, as we approach his 28th birthday, I find myself reflecting on how far we’ve come—not just as a family, but in our understanding of what it means to live a life shaped by God’s unexpected gifts.

I still remember those early years so vividly. There was so much confusion, grief, and resistance. We were desperate for normalcy—whatever that meant. We longed for the milestones other families celebrated: first words, soccer games, high school dances. And when we looked at what others had, comparison stole our peace and magnified our pain. Envy crept in quietly but settled deeply. We felt like life had passed us by, and the ache of what “should have been” lingered longer than we wanted to admit.

But somewhere along the way—slowly, quietly—there was a shift. A softening. Our hearts began to see that parenting Jon Alex wasn’t just our reality; it was our calling. What once felt like a burden began to feel like a blessing. What we used to pray would be taken away became the very thing God was using to reshape our lives, our faith, and our understanding of His love.

We started to recognize the profound honor it is to care for someone the world often overlooks, someone who reflects the image of God in the purest and most unfiltered ways. Joy began to seep in—not because our circumstances changed, but because our perspective did. Peace took root when we stopped resisting the story we were given and started embracing the beauty within it.

So, ask yourself: Do you feel cheated?

If you do, it’s okay to admit that. God can handle your honesty. But don’t stop there. Let Him walk with you through those feelings. Let Him reshape your definition of blessing. Because the truth is, sometimes the life we thought we wanted pales in comparison to the life God knows will draw us closer to Him.

We haven’t been cheated. We’ve been chosen. And in that choosing, we've received a front-row seat to witness grace, strength, and love in their most powerful forms.

And that—though not easy—is a gift beyond measure.