 MARCH/APRIL 2003 (XXXXI 2) |
I spent a day recently in a hospital waiting room. The experience reminded me how fragile our lives can be, and re-taught me a lesson about faith.
I was there because my wife underwent a second major surgery – two procedures actually – not to remove a cancer, but rather to reduce the chances cancer would return. We went into this certain that it offered her the best prospects for a fuller life. We went in very confident in the skills of two excellent surgeons; knowing something about the remarkable technology that would be employed to help her; and with a sense of the deep caring of those who worked in this hospital.
Still, the day began with those surgeons telling us about how something could go wrong, and about the small but real possibility she could die from these procedures. We signed forms that said we understood. Then I had to go sit and consider those possibilities while she was in surgery.
As I waited, I witnessed a parade of the human condition. Many who came in on their way to surgery, and many who waited with me, were older; but some were young. Most came for procedures they had chosen in hopes of extending or improving life, but outcomes were not certain.
Others had not planned to come at all. At one point the room filled with people in tears who were called in because a loved one had an unexpected stroke. They had been told she was not likely to survive.
Jesus once said, “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matthew 6:34) I suspect every person in that waiting room would have agreed.
Looking around I saw a room full of hope, fear and resignation. My feelings went from quiet confidence, as I learned that Gretchen’s first procedure had gone quickly and smoothly, to deepening concern, as the second procedure took three times as long as expected. When the second surgeon reported back I was among the last people in the waiting room. Any assurance I had brought with me had evaporated.
So, where was my faith? Truth is, some of it was misplaced. Much of the “faith” I brought to this was a confidence in human expertise, technological wizardry, and my own strength. But, as in all the most serious challenges of life, that would prove insufficient. These things are important. We cannot do many of the good things human beings are capable of without these things. So, I am grateful for doctors who worked hard and long to learn their skills, and to those who taught them. I am grateful to those who developed technologies that make it possible often to extend life and improve its quality. I am grateful to persons who are inspiring examples of endurance and courage in the face of trial and tribulations.
Finally, though, I am reminded that human skill, invention, and initiative have their limits. It could not save the woman whose family gathered around in tears. Not every surgery that day went well. Nor will it ever. When we trust in our own human skills and power there will inevitably come a point, when pushed far enough, that they will fail us.
Life is a gift to us, not our creation. We can learn to live in it with grace, but we cannot control, secure, or extend it by our own will.
The one thing we can know that will sustain us always, if we are open to it, is a life-giving relationship with the Divine, with the One whose “love endures forever, and faithfulness continues through all generation.” (Psalms 100:5) George Fox said, “When my hopes in all men were gone, … then, oh then, I heard a voice which said ‘There is one, even Christ Jesus, that can speak to thy condition.’”
The forms I signed that morning reminded me that when we are totally dependent on human expertise something can always go wrong. But the apostle Paul reminds me that “nothing can separate us from the love of God;” and that “all things work for good for those who love God” (Romans 8:28, 38-39).
Finally, the Psalmist says it most simply and eloquently. “My soul finds rest in God alone, … my hope comes from God.” (Psalms 62:1&5) My wife is mending. We have been cared for in myriad ways by many good people in whom God’s love is transmitted to us. And for this, and many blessings, I give thanks to God for life, even with all its suffering and fragility.
Last modified: Wednesday, February 18, 2004 at 08:18 AM