Jesus at the Hospital

Sometimes God surprises me in less-than-ideal situations. In the midst of hospital oxygen cannulas, monitors, and nurse call buttons, God revealed to me that God is present in my suffering and desires to bless me with hope.

My husband and I were on our way home from a medical test when we got a call from the doctor telling us to turn around and go directly to the emergency room. The test showed problems with my heart that would require immediate surgery. Needless to say, we turned around and drove straight to the hospital.

The intake process, although brief, was stressful. I knew why I was being admitted but not the specifics of what I would go through. I thought about Jesus being arrested and condemned to death. Was he frustrated with what was happening? Did he know what the walk to Calvary would be like? When I was assigned a room and asked to wear a hospital gown (the kind that opens in all the wrong places at all the wrong times), I felt as though it was made to take away my dignity, just like the cloak thrown around Jesus to mock him at his trial.

Next, a nurse put a probe on my forehead to collect data. Though not painful to me, it was wrapped around my head and had wires and clips protruding on all sides. I thought of Jesus with his crown of thorns and how agonizing it must have been for him. The longer I stayed in the hospital, the more my arms became like pin cushions, with PICC lines, IV ports, and lab needles. The many draws of blood for my various lab tests left their scars from painful sticks with needles. I thought of how much more painful it must have been for Jesus when the whips broke his skin, and the nails were driven into his hands and feet.

One morning, I was taken down a hallway in a wheelchair to wait for a procedure. I remember feeling cold and alone as I sat there waiting. Could this be how Jesus felt on the Cross? Abandoned and vulnerable?

At first I didn’t understand why Jesus was showing his suffering to me. But with God’s grace I realized that Jesus was telling me he was with me in my suffering. I was given the insight that I was not alone. The sufferings I felt I had in common with Jesus were an invitation from God to see them in a new light and to offer them up in union with Jesus and all who suffer. God was present in the pain and fear. But our generous God didn’t stop there.

The next day, I was asked if I wanted to receive the Eucharist. In fact, several people offered. It was clear to me that God was taking me beyond the suffering to show me the promise of hope in the Eucharist.

The grace and the lesson I brought home from the hospital was that Jesus is with me in my suffering. But I also learned that I must look beyond my suffering to the power of the Resurrection and eternal life that Jesus gained for me and for us all.

I left the hospital days later, still healing from surgery. I knew the physical therapy I would be getting would make me stronger. I also knew the spiritual therapy I received from God’s presence with me in the hospital would strengthen my faith as well.

Photo by Stephen Andrews on Unsplash.