Tuesday of Holy Week

"And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age."

—Matthew 28:20b

I remember the day I learned my dad had cancer. As a teenager, it felt as if everything I knew and understood about the world had changed. The pillar of our family, the strongest person I knew, was now laid low. It felt as if a mountain had appeared at my feet and stretched up into the sky beyond. How could I possibly climb it? What tools did I have in my tender, early years to help me mount this Goliath?

I remember sitting alone on the couch after my mom walked away. In the still and the quiet of mid-afternoon I stared at the wall with a pit in my stomach the size of the galaxy. So, I did the only thing I could possibly think of – I prayed. I prayed that God would see me through this. I prayed that God would give me strength. I prayed that God would carry me through a path when I had lost the ability to walk. I prayed to God to not be alone.

God’s peace didn’t change the diagnosis. It didn’t change the surgery or treatment that followed. It didn’t change the relapses or the complications from medicines in the years to come. God’s peace didn’t make it any easier to see my dad in a hospital bed or to wonder each morning what had happened in the night. But it did change one thing. It changed my heart. No matter how long the hours were, or how dark it was. No matter how terrifying the situation was, or how uncertain the future. I knew one thing for certain – I never sat alone. In the waiting room, in the hospital room, in my bedroom, in our living room, in the car rides and the phone calls and the endless doctors’ visits – God always sat in the chair beside me. God was with me, the rock centering me and keeping me focused on the only thing I knew to be true in a world of uncertainty – God would never abandon me.

God’s peace can be a settling of a racing heart. God’s peace can be a deep breath to tight lungs. God’s peace can be sunshine on chilled skin. God’s peace can be an ease to thoughts in a scattered mind. God’s peace can be a still, quiet presence in the air. It’s not always easy to define, or to label. It’s not always wearing bells and whistles and neon lights. But it is present with us whether we see it or not, sitting in the chair beside us wherever we go.

Author: Vicki Wood

Personal Reflection:

Recall a time when you felt alone but later realized God was with you. How did His presence bring comfort? How does knowing He is always with you change how you face challenges?

Daily Action:

Send a message or call someone you haven’t spoken to in a while. Remind them that they are not alone and that you are thinking of them.