Hallucinations

I get all kinds of comments on my blogs. Some are nice and I publish them. Others bug me and I forget about them. A few are wrong, and I address them. My motive in responding is not to get back at folks, but to try to alleviate any confusion other readers may have also had.

A few days ago a reader wrote accusing me that my belief that Jesus loves us and is near in the midst of our greatest trials in life is my quest for comfort and coziness. He went further to add that I am hallucinating.

I chuckle because many of the wonderful nurses I work with have often accused me of being crazy and hallucinating. I know I’m not the smartest apple out there, and am sure I’ve had my moments of hallucinations. The reader also added that few people can be brutally honest with themselves to question their beliefs and that at the end of the day, people of other religions are just as happy as Christians.

Please understand that I am not competing with anyone for happiness, but in my quest to be brutally honest, I thought I’d give his approach a whirl.

I walked into the ER and made the first terrible diagnosis of the day. A mother brought in her 3 year old adorable toddler boy and stated that he’d had headaches and vomiting for a couple of weeks. A few minutes later, the CT scan showed a huge brain tumor. I wish I was hallucinating, but I was not. I had to break the news to this family.

Don’t worry, I said, life has no meaning. I know it hurts right now, but we’re all going nowhere anyway. This life has no meaning. Don’t try to make sense of it. Your son – and yourself – for that matter are simply going to cease from existing a few years from now. You’ll be okay.

That didn’t work.

Here’s the deal, I started again. Life is a process of natural selection. Your kid was just weaker than the others. The odds of any of your other kids also having a brain tumor are now slim.

That didn’t work either.

I’m sorry you’re facing this tragedy, but think about your life thus far, I said. You must have done some pretty bad things to be facing this. Good things happen to good people. Take some time to meditate over the meaning of this situation. It will come to you. Devote your life to understanding why fate would hand you this portion. Try to be better moving forward.

Nah. Didn’t work either.

The mother was a wreck by now. Tears stained her broken face. One of the nurses couldn’t stand it anymore. She stepped in, held her hand, lovingly looked in her eyes, and said this:

“God loves you. He understands your pain. He’s felt the same pain. See, His very own Son was wrongly murdered. But in His death, God made a way for you to spend eternity in heaven with your son. I may not know why you’re going through this nightmare right now, but God sees your life from beginning to end. He promises to walk near you during this difficult time. Heaven is waiting for you and your Son. You can be with Him forever. And until then, God provides a way to walk this difficult path. I’m not sure how, but I’m here for you in the meantime. Think of me as God’s representative. I love you, because He’s taught me about love. He loves you even in this terrible moment.”

There was nothing I could add. There was nothing I could say. I had tears in my eyes as I walked away. And I knew this for sure: the mother was comforted and so was I. And neither of us was hallucinating.

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