Is there any word so heavy with fear? Does any single word leave one feeling so hopeless? “Cancer!” She had suspected it for some time, but all the tests and examinations were inconclusive. So fear gave way to hope, but the hope was weak. It wavered and flickered like a candle in the breeze. Finally the diagnosis was complete, and now there was no doubt: “Malignant.” A long, difficult, and painful operation. A lengthy convalescence. And, of course, no guarantee even after that. “The Big C,” like life itself, doesn’t come with any guarantees.
What do you do? Of course you ask “Why?” There are phone calls and letters and cards. There are hugs and kisses and kind words. And you know that you are loved, and that there are many who really care. But no one can answer that nagging question: “Why?” And you look toward heaven, and ask, again and again. But there is no answer.
A thousand miles away, one Sunday morning, brothers and sisters gathered to remember their Lord hear the announcement of the surgery, and pray together for a sister in Christ whom most of them have never met.
In that ecclesia there is a young sister who hears the news and shares in the prayer, feeling an immediate and profound change in herself. For she has been sunk for some time in a swamp of despondency. A romance had come to an end, leaving behind an ever-changing mixture of anger, resentment, and discouragement. Now, in a flash of recognition, she saw her mental outlook for what it really was. But let her tell the story: “It was like my eyes were opened for the first time in quite a while. And I saw that my problem was so minor compared to that sister’s! And I had made it so much worse with my self-pity. I knew, all at once, that my attitude had changed. I didn’t have to will it to change — it just did. Now I m going to read my Bible a lot more; I’m going to study; I’m going to work harder in the ecclesia. What do I have to complain about? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
And that is the end of the story for now, except for the one who has been privy to the thoughts of both these sisters. The one who, unawares, provided the link across the miles between them. The one who, for just a moment, saw the corner of the veil lifted, and caught a glimpse of that wonderful “mechanism” we call the ways of providence.
For once, and in the least little part, it helped to understand Why!
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footstep in the sea;
And rides upon the storm.Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and will break
In blessings on your head.His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour:
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One