Waiting for Tomorrow
Eighteen hours to go.
Eighteen hours before we learn whether it’s as bad as we fear.
Today is the day before, and I’m waiting.
I’ve been waiting ever since my sweetheart told me about a possible new problem. The time is creeping closer. I look once again at my watch; it’s still nearly eighteen hours to go.
Her appointment is at 11 o’clock tomorrow morning.
In his usual cool, detached manner, the consultant will examine my sweetheart as she lies on the couch. He will ask questions; he will look at her recent medical records; he will keep his thoughts locked up within himself until that decisive moment.
I will be sitting there in the oncologist’s room, watching, listening, and waiting. Waiting for his verdict. Waiting for his practised announcement. Will it be devastation or deliverance?
Today, with all those long hours to go, what do I expect?
The worst, of course.
Fears are determined to evict every remnant of peace from my soul. I am helpless under their onslaught.
Why this again, Lord? Why this, Lord, after the marathon of troubles she’s survived in recent months?
Over a year ago, they told my darling wife that she had breast cancer. The subsequent operation had been ‘successful,’ so they said.
Today, I have lost hope. I expect the worst.
Why should another problem arise, Lord? Hasn’t she suffered enough?
I just don’t understand, I just don’t understand.
How can I help but expect the worst? In any case, I don’t deserve anything but the worst.
Uncertainties prance around my soul. Faith and trust have abandoned me.
Tomorrow is coming. Each of the next eighteen hours is coming and each will go just as every other counted hour has done through the ages.
Time is moving at a snail's pace.
I won’t sleep tonight.
On this sun-soaked day, I’m sitting outside, waiting - in miserable opposition to the surrounding peace of our lovely garden.
Suddenly, at twenty minutes past five, God steps in!
He knows I love old hymns.
Now He is whispering into my heart some words by Mary Peters:
‘We expect a bright tomorrow;
All will be well.’
‘We expect a bright tomorrow!’
Wow! That is revolutionary!
In a moment, the next eighteen hours become different.
And when at last our tomorrow morning comes in the oncologist’s room, it does indeed become mercifully bright.
Oh! I’m so thankful. All is well with my darling wife; all is very well indeed.
Praise the Lord!
“If we believe not, yet He remains faithful.” 2 Timothy 2:13
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