In God’s Waiting Room

Yesterday someone at church asked how I’m feeling. “No changes,” I said. “I feel like I’m in God’s waiting room.”

He grinned and said, “Well, at least you know you’re going to be seen.”

Sometimes words make their way out of my skull into earthly existence and I think about them and wonder where they came from, especially when they’re slithering as they go because I’ve just said something really stupid, insensitive, or crass – like I did on the way to church when I growled at one of our boys to “quit acting like a jackass” and then minutes later when I leaned over to Sikki to whisper that “I hate these repetitive old Pentecostal choruses” at the outset of what was supposed to be a time of exuberant worship to God, and for Him, with zero of my self-serving opinions requested, needed or desired.

I hadn’t considered the waiting-room metaphor before that brother inquired: it just came out. But it was apropos, because I don’t like waiting. I don’t like waiting rooms. I don’t like long periods of uncertainty and silence. My primary objection to going to the doctor is the sitting and sighing I do as I’m drumming on my knees, listening to passersby in the hallway and through the thin walls of the adjoining rooms, looking at worn posters of exposed, gloopy-looking red-and-yellow anatomical parts and muted artwork on blandly painted walls and torn magazines from 2006, going drymouthed and chaplipped wondering why it’s 90 hellish degrees in there, and by the time the doctor finally shows I usually have to pee besides everything else. I can’t think anymore. I don’t care if I have an arm dangling. I don’t have a medical problem. Why’d I come here? Lemme out.

That’s how things feel right now. But what he said is true, too. Eventually I’m going to be seen.

What’s wrong goes deeper than just a pulmonary problem that hasn’t improved much in the past eight weeks. God searches the depths of the heart, the dark places, the light places. The light in us can even be darkness. Perhaps this irony has been true of me: a bad, evil eye skews my vision and discolors the truth of God and the nature of reality in His Kingdom and the joy of serving Him.

Crisis precedes revelation.

The eye is the lamp of the body; so then if your eye is clear, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light that is in you is darkness, how great is the darkness! — Matthew 6:22-23

And immediately something like scales fell from his eyes, and he regained his sight. Then he rose and was baptized. — Acts 9:18

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Author: Steve Hobbs

I live and write near the beaches of Brunswick County, NC. I entered this fallen reality in 1975. My wife Sikki and I were married in 1997. We have five children. I am a follower of Jesus and a seeker of truth.

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