Nothing To Fear
For most of us, the hospital is a place we would rather avoid. We associate it with pain, fear, or the struggles of others. Yet sometimes, even against our wishes, God allows us to walk through those doors. Not to harm us, but to remind us that there is truly no place on earth where His presence does not reign.
This is the heart of this Story of the Week. It is not a piece of fiction, but a testimony from my own life when I too found myself in that dreaded place, many years ago. I did not come out the same. God, in His mercy, used that time to teach me, to shape me, and to let me see His faithfulness in a deeper way.
Jesus promised: “Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20) How precious those words become when we are going through a hard time. Time and again, He has proven that His children are never alone, not even for a moment.
Wishing you a great weekend.
Nothing To Fear
The day I landed in the hospital my worst fears came true. The building loomed like a grey fortress. Doctors moved past me with cold, professional eyes, barely acknowledging my presence. Nurses appeared at odd hours, sticking thermometers in my mouth and jabbing fearsome needles into my arm. Every time when I had drifted off to sleep, the harsh buzz of machines or perhaps footsteps of more nurses would jolt me awake.
I closed my eyes and hid under the sheets, hoping for a few minutes of safety in my own world that had always been so stable.
I prayed.
“God, get me out of here!”
I waited. Nothing. Doubt crept in. Did He even care I was here?
Then, I felt it: His gentle voice speaking to my heart. I knew immediately that I was not alone.
“Don’t worry,” He answered. “I am still on the throne.”
“Are you sure, God? I hate it here!”
I knew I wasn’t supposed to question the wisdom of the Almighty, but I was like a frightened sheep that bleats in the stable. Surely, He had me confused with someone else. My chest tightened. I didn’t belong here.
“Don’t worry”, God said again. “Have I not promised to be with you all the time?”
“All the time?”
“Yes, son. All the time!”
That thought gave me some peace. I poked my head out from under the sheets, trying to ignore the artificial scent of health that clung to every molecule in the sick room. Closing my eyes, I let the quiet steady me. Well, I tried. I still was a far cry from the model Christian as expressed in Philippians 4:7. You know that verse that says, “The peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”
New doctors arrived with professional stares, clutching clipboards that carried my life’s history. Each time, my chest tightened, my legs twitched under the sheets and I wanted to bolt.
Nurses kept pressing thermometers between my lips and pricking me awake at dawn with needles. Meanwhile, clouds drifted by the window, humming wordless songs of freedom in the open sky.
But there was something else too. I think I saw God smiling.
“It’s all right, son. I told you; I am with you.”
And it helped.
There was peace, despite the constant misery. Not the kind found by a mountain lake where birds lift their songs to the Creator. This was a deeper peace, a confident rest that, strangely enough, surpassed even the stillness of the lake.
Apparently, others noticed it.
How? Let me clarify.
On the day I finally left the hospital after six agonizing weeks, I was approached by a man I had never met.
He seemed nervous, shuffling his feet and avoiding my eyes, unsure how to start.
“Can I talk to you?” he asked.
I raised my brows. “Sure.”
“You’re a believer, right?”
“Why would you say that?”
“Two weeks ago, I was brought in for an emergency. I was just about to go on holiday … You know, caravan in front of the house, my wife wiped out from packing. But then… well, then there was blood, and I ended up in the hospital instead of on a camping trip to France. I was seriously considering jumping out the window.”
“And?” I asked.
He hesitated. “Well … Then I saw you.”
“What’s so good about that?” I wondered.
“You were so peaceful. No stress. I couldn’t understand it. Then I noticed the Bible by your bedside. There are no Bibles on tables in hospitals. But you had one. Then it hit me. God is real and He is with me. There’s nothing to fear. And I was right; I’ll be leaving tomorrow … with my wife and caravan to a camping in France.”
He shook my hands and thanked me profusely for helping him.
Helping him? I had done nothing of the sort. I hadn’t reached out to anyone. All I had done was wrestle with my own selfish doubts and fears.
Then I heard God again. His voice, as always, so gentle and full of compassion: I told you so. I am with you always. There really is nothing to fear.
I looked heavenward, while my heart filled with joy. Fear had no hold.
As the stranger had said, God is real and He is with all of His children. And that is always enough.
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