“He raises the humble and protects those suffering." ~ Job 5:11
Cristian, the Children’s Hospital
Chaplain, offered spiritual guidance and pastoral care to patients and their
families. Most regarded him as serious and kind, yet the staff probably thought
he meddled too much. Parents expected him to be more like Mr. Rogers. But the
kids had an amazing capacity to see through it all and ask the big questions.
"Where was I before I was born? What does God look like?
Why does God let children get sick?”
Today the attending physician
asked him to minister to the parents of a 3-year-old who’d been diagnosed with
terminal cancer. When he arrived at their room, he found Dad weeping. Mom was answering
phone calls, holding her world together in her own way.
Cristian encouraged them to share what they loved most about
their son. Mom’s response came quickly. “His curiosity. His energy. His
laughter.”
Angry eyes told the young
Chaplain that Dad was about to explode. “My son doesn’t deserve this!” he cried. “I know God has a plan, but this is a crappy one!”
The room fell awkwardly silent.
"I don't know why this is happening,” Cristian
confessed, “but I'm thankful I can witness this part of your story. May you
know love amid your loneliness, pain, fears, questions, and your doubts.”
In truth, he didn’t know if the toddler’s
cancer or recovery was a part of God's plan. He didn’t know if any of the
infants in the NICU unit or the chemo patients awaiting remission news were
part of His plan either. All the theology degrees in the world couldn't
answer that question.
Why children get cancer may be less a search
for reasons and more an expression of lament. And in grief, there’s no reason,
explanation, or reflection.
It wasn’t his place to justify their pain, nor refute the
ways they made sense of this crisis. He did want to tell them everything
was going to be OK. That God works in mysterious ways. And that it will get
better.
But for now, he accepted both anger and skepticism. This all
brought to mind the biblical book of Job. But the questions Cristian most want
to explore weren’t about theodicy or what God was actually considering or
dismissing. This wasn’t about what he believed spiritually. Right now, was the
time to be present for parents in agony… and simply remaining present.
They had a good conversation. They talked about their son,
their support system, and what they planned to do when they settled back home.
Nobody felt the need to talk about God's plans or what their son deserved;
remaining present didn't demand it.
God, save me! I’m in over my head, quicksand
under me, swamp water over me; I’m going down for the third time. I’m hoarse
from calling for help, bleary-eyed from searching the sky for You. (Psalm
69:1:3)
