They all seemed calm. No one looked worried about what their results could be...normal or abnormal. Was I the only one petrified?

The enemy whispered, Where is your God?

I kept my cool, repeating it back to myself: Nothing is wrong. And if something is wrong, I'll still be alright. God will be with me, to help me bear whatever this is.

Back to waiting

The nurse called me back sooner than I expected. Another round of imaging. Why? Did they see something suspicious or was it that they couldn't see clearly enough the first time? My heart picked up its pace as I went back in, then came back out, then sat down again.

Waiting.

What judgment actually is

Somewhere in that stretch of waiting, my mind landed on the word judgment, and it struck me how differently I'd usually think about it. Not punishment being handed down. Just a doctor giving a final diagnosis, based on what the imaging shows.

As we go in for our scans every year, God is getting His own kind of snapshot of us... our character, daily. And He sees what's there honestly: deformed, some of it, by the cancer of selfishness. His first word isn't condemnation. It's diagnosis, followed immediately by an offer: You're not well. But I have the cure. Let's work together to bring you back to where I meant you to be...happy, whole, pure, other-centered.

He works with us daily on it. Encouraging. Patient. Not rushing the treatment.

But (and here's the part that used to confuse me), if someone refuses the treatment plan, can't bear the short-term discomfort of healing, keeps saying no to the Doctor over and over... does He respond by punishing them? No. He simply lets them go. He honors even a persistent choice to separate from the Source of life. He honors, painfully, someone's choice to die rather than heal.

That's not the picture of God I grew up fearing.

Normal tissue

After the second round of imaging, the radiologist looked at the screen and smiled. "I see only normal tissue."

I smiled too.

Thank You, God, for keeping me free of disease.

Look again

The "good Doctor" in that waiting room has a name: Christ, who called Himself exactly that: "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick... I came not to call the righteous, but sinners" (Mark 2:17). He doesn't run from a hard diagnosis. He's the only one qualified to give one honestly and still stay in the room with you while you heal.

My prayer today: Lord, help me not to be afraid of the diagnosis. Help me instead to cooperate with You daily, as You work to heal my mind and my character. Thank You for Your commitment to heal me. Amen.

Until next time,

Michelle

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