Thoughts While Waiting in the ER

I spent the entire evening last night—from 6:00 PM to 1:30 AM this morning—in the ER of my local hospital. I went there as a result of believing I might be having—or was in immanent danger of having—a heart attack.

This post isn’t about the horrible state of the health care system in BC. It’s not about using our medical resources better than we do; it’s not about the dedication and commitment of individual workers in the system. All these are worthy topics mind you. But right now I need to talk about something else.

Let me contextualize my own experience by the experience of another family. As I sat, waiting for my name to be called, I couldn’t help but notice a mother and (I suppose) daughter. They were going in and out of the entrance to the ER itself. Both were pale, their faces drawn. The eyes of the daughter were bleary and red-rimmed. Someone they loved was in big trouble this night. Soon other members of the family began to arrive; children, teenagers and middle-aged adults. They would disappear into the ER for a while and then emerge more distraught than when they went in. This continued for about thirty minutes and finally, walking right by me, they all went through the double doors of the waiting room and stood outside in the cold. I could just make them out through the frosted glass as they huddled together, holding on to each other, the young ones clinging desperately to the grown ups the grown ups embracing the children as if both to comfort and protect. The high-pitched weeping of the children intermingled with the groans and wails of the adults in a heart-tearing melody of grief and pain. Here, I thought, here is where we all come to. Here is where it will end for us; maybe not in a hospital, but definitely in grief, pain and misery.

And of course this forced me to think of myself and my own predicament. For all I knew, in a few hours or less, that could be my family on the other side of the ER door. It could be my body they would be wheeling down the hallway on a gurney, bound for the morgue.

A sobering thought. Yet here I was, with only my body to tell me it was in trouble of some kind, perhaps the worst kind. Everyone else was too busy to tend to me. That’s OK. I’ll wait my turn.

And as I waited, I prayed. I prayed to God, to Christ, that should it really be my time, that I was not placing any hope anywhere but in Him alone. I pled the shed blood of Christ, taking refuge in it and Him alone. “Oh Heavenly Father” I prayed, “Into your hands I commend my life and my spirit. To you and you alone do I look. Let your will be done in this as in all things; let my passing be as and when you determine. This only I ask; care for my wife and son and give them the comfort and the strength they will need.”

I prayed several times during the night. But at no time was I ever afraid. Perhaps I didn’t believe this could really be happening to me; perhaps I knew this was just some passing fit of anxiety or some other anomaly. But I believe there really was more to it than that. I believe that we as Christians really do have nothing to fear. That we have a friend and Saviour who is ever by our side and who is ever in waiting to receive us at our journey’s end. I do not count myself special in this. This is a blessing that comes as part of God’s covenant with His people. It is something He has promised to all of us and to each one of us.

I thought of that family and of how they were experiencing the death of a loved one. Were they Christians? I don’t know. Was the one being grieved over a Christian? I don’t know. But I do know that if they were Christians, their grief should have been mitigated by the simple fact of their faith. To be a Christian is to walk by faith, not by sight. It is to know the presence and compassion of a loving, sovereign God who works everything according to the good pleasure of His perfect will. He is with us even when we forget Him. He promised to prepare a place in heaven for each of us. These are comforting thoughts, but do us no good if we don’t really believe them. If we are Christians the end will be the same for all of us—a glorious end. But if we aren’t aware of these truths, if we don’t embrace them in the here and now, our lives will miss the peace we have been promised. The promise of peace is not just for the hereafter. It is for now. It is ours, but only if we appropriate it through faith.

Soli Deo Gloria.