Concern, Dread and Rest

   At church last Sunday morning, I ran into my barber, and, knowing that I needed a haircut before going away for a few days, asked him if he was working this next week. He replied that he would be in on Monday and part of Tuesday, because he had to go to Jacksonville for an appointment at Mayo. Knowing that a visit to Mayo Clinic could mean several things for him because of his past history with cancer, I asked him if it was for a regular checkup. I could see the hurt in his eyes as he told me that his cancer had shown up in his kidney and that his doctor needed to check it out.

   When I went early on Monday to get the haircut, he did not mention the dreaded "C" word at all, but as I prepared to leave, I told him that I would be praying for him on Tuesday as he drove down to the clinic, and also praying for the doctor as the checkup procedure took place. Again, I could see pain and concern in his eyes as he thanked me for that, and with that I went on my way into my regular activities of that day.

   I am sure that the seriousness of the diagnosis stayed with him throughout the day on Monday, and, even as I sit here on Tuesday morning, I know the life threatening nature of the disease weighs heavy on him. Even as I pray for all this, I am struck by the consequences of the whole affair. Here I sit writing about the situation, while he is living through it. I really don't know what that scenario feels like.

   Twenty-three years ago I had a stay in the hospital that could have affected me like my barber. When the doctor said they had found a mass in my back, my thought was not that it could be life threatening, but that I needed some relief, and they could fix whatever it was. Only later did I realize what "a mass" could have been, but at the time that did not matter. Even now, my most vivid memory of the whole thing was the confinement in the MRI chamber for forty minutes, and the dread of that claustrophobia, not what the MRI showed.

   So I wonder what my emotions would be today if I was on the way to that checkup. Would I be full of dread, full of fear, full of resignation, or accepting of whatever the outcome was? If I was the latter, what would my acceptance mean? Would that mean resignation to the fact of what follows a bad diagnosis, or could I say, in confidence, that God is in control?

   It is easy for me to say "God is in control" as I sit here, but what if I was sitting in that doctor's office waiting and then listening to that verdict? 

   Psalm 23 says in part: "The Lord is my shepherd.....as I pass through the valley of the shadow of death, I will not fear.."

   God, my prayer today is for my friend, his family and friends, and it is for me also, that I might live in the light of your presence and, when my time comes, to rest in the hope of your faithful promises.