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Writer's pictureSarah Raad

Waiting

God waits – for my consent – so that He can heal me…



God the Creator (William Blake)


Recently my father needed to undertake some emergency surgery.

 

He had already completed one surgery and there were complications that arose that meant that he had to undertake an additional surgery.

 

The implications of this were that there was a lot of planning that had to take place behind the scenes…  He first had to be put in touch with the right doctors who were qualified in the work that they were to do so that they could complete the surgery.  Then, those doctors had to coordinate with each other so that they would be able to make sure that all of their various treatment plans could work together and deliver the best possible treatment plan for my father.  And then the theatre needed to be booked for surgery.

 

Initially, when the problem was discovered, the doctors decided that they would operate on the same day.

 

However, after making the various calls they discovered that the operating theatre was unavailable that day and they would instead be forced to wait another day before surgery.  This meant that they were faced with various considerations.  Would it be better to operate right now and move my father to another hospital with an available theatre?  Or, would it actually be better to wait the day and leave him in the familiar place where he was already under treatment?

 

During this time of waiting, it was clear that my father was “at the mercy” of the doctors, so to speak.  He had very little that he could contribute to the process and could only ask questions and listen to the answers and finally give his consent to submit himself to the care of the doctors and surgeons who were treating him.

 

And I have been thinking about that today as I have been thinking about God.

 

You see, my father very willingly gave his trust to human beings – men and women (albeit very clever men and women) – so that they could treat him.  And then – afterwards, he submitted himself to their care – giving them authority to act on him while he was unconscious…  And what do I do with God?  Do I submit to His Holy Will?  Do I close my eyes and take my medicine and go to sleep and let God – the infinite surgeon – operate on me as he sees fit?

 

Do I consent to Him as my father consented to the surgeons?  Of course I do not.  Instead, I try to control everything and talk back and argue about things and judge them – all while I am laid out under anaesthetic in hospital.

 

And how can God actually perform the operation required to make me well, if I simply will not consent and wait for Him to do His work?

 

Sometimes, I feel so sad for my God.  After all, He waits – for my consent – so that He can heal me…

 

For with prayer, I stand on Holy Ground where everything is clear. Here. At the Foot of the Cross.

 

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