By Gary Wickert

 “If the Creator stood before a million men with the light of a million lamps, only a few would truly see him because their truth is already alive in their hearts. Truth can only be seen by those with truth in them. He who does not have Truth in his heart, will always be blind to it.” --Suzy Kassem (Rise Up and Salute The Sun)

It happened some years ago when I was living in Houston. There wasn’t much that I didn’t feel capable of accomplishing back then. I had a lucrative and enjoyable career, a beautiful wife and children, great health, and pretty much anything else that I wanted. My life was truly blessed, but there was still a big lesson I had yet to learn.

I had learned all of the Bible stories in school. I believed in God, but did I rely on Him as much as I relied on myself and the things I surrounded myself with? That was, and still is, a difficult question for me to answer.

I volunteered at Texas Children’s Hospital back then.  I was a “patient pal”, walking from room to room reading to and playing games with patients. On the 5th floor, in the infectious diseases ward from where the infamous David the “Bubble Boy” had lived, and died, a young, five-year-old girl from Nacogdoches named Chrissy was battling epidermolysis bullosa, a genetic connective tissue disorder that makes skin extremely fragile. It is excruciatingly painful and the only treatment consists of controlling the pain.

I recall walking into Chrissy’s room for the first time and introducing myself to her and a social worker. Her bed resembled a baby’s crib, with metal bars to prevent her from climbing out. Nearly half of her body was covered in open sores lathered with white medication. She was in great pain. The social worker told me that she couldn’t provide the details of Chrissy’s situation, but did tell me that her father was dead and her mother didn’t visit her.

I read books to Chrissy, and occasionally told her about Jesus – even though it was against hospital policy. She had never been to Sunday School and listened intently, especially to the stories about Jesus healing the sick. She would occasionally jerk with pain and rub her IV. In the middle of a sentence she would simply burst out in tears, and then stop just as suddenly, ready for more of the story.  Occasionally, a nurse would appear and increase her morphine drip.

Despite the grotesque nature of her disease, Chrissy’s eyes were bright and cheerful, and she seemed to look forward to my visits. Spending time with this little girl gave me a feeling I had never experienced. Still, I struggled to hide the look of pity on my face.

On the day it happened, I was busy at the office and almost didn’t go to the hospital. The hallway was unusually quiet. I walked into Chrissy’s room to find her bed empty - its white linens neatly folded alongside it. A wave of anxiety came over me and I hurried to the nurse’s station hoping to learn she had been moved to a different room.  She hadn’t.

I did something rare on the way home that night – I cried. I gave my own children a big hug. I wanted more than anything to ask God how he could allow such a tragedy to happen to someone so young and innocent. That night I got the chance. I had a dream. God was sitting on a rock in a field of tall, green grass. His appearance was so bright he was hard to look at. On his lap sat Chrissy, still in her hospital gown. All of her sores were gone and she was prettier than ever. She waved and I cautiously waved back.  God smiled. “So, you have something to ask me?” God said. His voice was clear and calming, yet I suddenly felt overwhelmed in his presence. “If you have the time,” I said nervously. “Of course I have the time,” He replied. “I have eternity.  What would you like to know?”

“Why did you let her suffer?”, I asked feebly after a short pause. “Why did you take her?” Chrissy tilted her head and looked at me as if surprised by the question. “My ways are not your ways,” God replied. Nothing happens without my knowing about it. And everything happens for a purpose.” I instantly realized how presumptuous I had been, and my mind was flooded with questions – wanting to make the most of this opportunity - but I had so many questions. I quickly blurted out the first one that came to mind. “What surprises you most about mankind?” I asked, moving closer. He didn’t smile this time. Instead, he appeared to grow sad and then slowly responded.

“Men take my goodness for granted. Their feet are swift to run to mischief, even though I am slow to anger and rich in love. They spend their lives storing riches that cannot last, and foolishly ignore the opportunity for eternal treasures. They worry anxiously about how they are going to live another day and in the process, add not a single hour to their lives. They ignore my House and the study of my Word, saying that they haven’t the time. They do not return the love they have been given.”

I couldn’t move. Chrissy kept her gaze fixed on me. This time the look of pity was on her face. Something that had bothered and puzzled me for years instantly came to mind. “Why don’t you just come to earth with a powerful display of miracles? Surely everyone would believe in you then. Why did you come to earth as a little child, helpless and poor, and suffer like you did? He smiled again and his eyes looked directly into mine.

“I made myself lowly in order that men might freely decide for themselves, instead of being won over by the type of powerful king people were expecting. No fire from heaven would have brought about the response I desired – only love can summon a response of love. My love is endless, and only love has the power capable of conquering the human heart. Take up your cross and follow me.”

“Take up my cross? What does that mean?” I blurted out, my hands outstretched as if begging for the answer. “The cross you bear must precede the crown you wear.” He answered slowly, as if to emphasize these words. “Where do you put your trust?” He continued. “In the things of this world or in me? Relying totally on me comes easier for those who are blessed with poverty and suffering, like Chrissy. The merciful are blessed because man’s mind does not make him human – his heart does - his capacity to love.”

I was amazed at the clarity of the answer. I had heard all of these words before, but I hadn’t been able to fully grasp their meaning until then. A feeling of peace spread over me and at that instant I understood Chrissy’s look of pity. I woke in a sweat. In the most humbling moment of my life, I realized for the first time it was not I who had helped Chrissy – it was Chrissy who had helped me.