Holy Ground

I visited the hospital yesterday. I was tired, at the end of a long week, and still trying to get over a cold. I entered the foyer, and my first thought was at how much hospitals have changed. The foyer was bright and attractive, with coffee shops and people sitting and talking. It was like entering an upscale mall. It’s nicer, but I knew it wouldn’t be an easy visit. My mind went back to a pastor I heard talk a week ago. The first time he made a hospital visit, he didn’t have a clue what to say or do. He just prayed. He really wanted Christ’s presence to be felt through him. Now, many years later, he’s a professional at making these visits. He longs for that sense of inadequacy he used to have, the sense that apart from the Holy Spirit his visit would be a waste. I felt inadequate yesterday. There was nothing I could say. I could only be there, and pray that my presence alone would be enough. We did talk, and I did pray. I visited a quiet man who’s suddenly found he has only weeks to live. His family is overcome with shock. Lord, what do I say? When I saw him, he lit up and talked to me clearly. He hasn’t been talking; the family couldn’t believe it. We chatted for a short while. I prayed. I promised to come back in a few days. As I left, I walked with my head down. I live so much of the time with a feeling of immortality. It’s an illusion. As I left, I felt like I had been on holy ground. Death is an enemy. As a believer, I know it’s not the end, but it’s still not a friend. How humbling not only to come face to face with human weakness, but to know that nothing – not all my best words or insights, absolutely nothing – was as good as just being there. Holy ground indeed. So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:12