The faint glimmer of a diagnostic screen casts an eerie glow around the darkened hospital room. I lie motionless, staring upward, my eyes tracing the swirling patterns on the ceiling. I inspect the way the light fixture is attached, and wonder about the odd metal screen over the unlit fluorescent tubes – almost like you would see in an old grade-school gymnasium.
The trivial details of the clinic décor are not enough to distract me from an ultrasound technician who pokes and prods a sensitive area in my neck. Finally satisfied with her efforts, she dead-pans that I’m free to go, and I’ll hear from my doctor within a couple days.
As I slide off the gurney, I long to ask if everything looks normal, but something holds me back. Actually, I know what holds me back… the anxiety that accompanies any hospital visit. A glimpse of bad news. Life-changing news. My normal routine interrupted by uncertainty and adjustment.
Driving home, a thought strikes me: when the Lord pokes and prods me… tests me… examines me… what is my reaction? Do I find something else — anything else — to look at or distract me? Do I attempt to ignore Him, acting like I’m too involved with the minutia of my surroundings to give it any thought? Am I afraid to ask about issues that need to be addressed in my life – knowing the results may be something I don’t want to hear or change? Now that I think about it, have I been hesitating to even visit “The Doctor” in the first place? Maybe it’s time to make that appointment.
Psalm 139:23-24 — Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.
– Ron Reid