It’s been an interesting week for me….and fitting that I should begin it and end it with my C3 family….
I got one of those calls this week. You know, the kind you never really feel quite prepared for - the scary kind that begins with “Is this ‘Angela’?” and quickly progresses to “The doctor has reviewed your lab results….can you come in….immediately….”.
All kinds of thoughts flood your mind in times like this - questions, fears, helplessness……
The irony for me is that I flashed back to a conversation I had, recently, with a friend in which I said,
“I often wonder how I’ll react if I become seriously ill - terminally ill…I hope I would be one of those believers who speaks in soft-spoken, gracious terms and encourages everyone around. But, I’m afraid I might just be a shrill drama queen grabbing the doctor by the lab coat and screaming, ‘I’m sick! I’m in pain…FIX IT NOW!!!!’”
So, I found out that, for me, my reaction was somewhere in the middle - more like a deep quietness…a closing-in….running for solitude and isolation. Words and music are my life…my expression, but I wanted neither - but, instead, only to sit and ponder….
I didn’t want to talk…or write about how I was feeling - I was terrified of disappointing…of discouraging those who may look to me for comfort…for strength. So, I was just silent…
And I will be the first to admit that I’m only now feeling able to try to process my feelings in writing because I was able to hear the doctor say, “Your test was clear” - A luxury many others in that position don’t receive - so, don’t admire my strength now….I wasn’t nearly as eloquent when I was faced with looming questions of my mortality.
I kept remembering the passage Byron’s used in his messages the past few weeks. John 11:
“When Mary came to the place where Jesus was and saw Him, she dropped down at His feet, saying to Him, ‘Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.’
When Jesus saw her sobbing,…He was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. [He chafed in spirit and sighed and was disturbed.]
And…(He) wept.”
These words both comforted me and hurt at the same time. I thought, “Does he hear me?”…and even “Maybe he doesn’t care….maybe I’m not good enough….”
But, the truth is He did hear. He has always heard…
He heard me when He walked the streets of Galilee…He heard me in the cries of the woman at the well, when the woman was cast at his feet in disgrace…in the desperate cries of Lazarus’ sister….in the Garden….on the cross….
He heard me - as the Father heard Him. He heard me…
So: He came, He walked, He wept…He died.
He heard me as I sat in church listening to John 11 not knowing how personally significant these verses would become for me. I didn’t know then what kind of week I’d have….but, He did.
He hears me, and He understands my fears, my questions….even my pitiful cries of “Why?”
He hears all of us. He always has….
So, be encouraged - the pain is not always removed…and the physical healing doesn’t always come as we hope. But, one day there will be an ultimate healing - a day when we will step into His presence for all eternity…He’ll wipe away all the tears.
And then we’ll be home. And we’ll never have to ask why again…
We’ll look into His eyes…and we’ll know.
Be of good cheer - there are struggles, but the struggle will lead us home…
Peace to you.
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