My father never really talked about his faith. He was a former U. S. Air Force guy who was stationed in Thailand during Vietnam. His faith was something that was seen not spoken. But one night in a hospital room while he was battling prostate cancer, he and I had a faith discussion. It was my turn to stay overnight at the hospital with him, something I was very much willing to escape from if I could. You see, I was tangled up.
I was tangled up in bitterness towards the cancer, and kind of towards God too; tangled up in fears of a future without my father, tangled up in uncertainties of what that future would look like. I was tangled up in doubts of my faith, my father’s faith, and doubts in my prayers and the prayers of the people at church. But this one night in the hospital, with the only background music being the consistent beeps of the various monitors, my father started a faith conversation. During that conversation, he lifted his hands as high as he could, which wasn’t very high, and said, “It’s in God’s hands now.”
It was almost as if he knew that I doubted; that I was struggling with my faith in the midst of all this. On the heels of that conversation, I began to slowly be untangled as I began to see that my vision was cloudy because my mind was occupied on the bitterness, the doubts, and the fears. I began to see that the more I struggled, the more I got tangled up, like quicksand. The struggling sucks you farther and farther down in the dark pit, rather than upwards toward safety and comfort.
No matter what you’re going through, Christ is walking with you. In the midst of your hopelessness, in the midst of your anxiety and uncertainties, in the midst of your fears and doubts, Christ is there ready to untangle you.