Painful Waiting
Stories
Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit
62 Stories For Cycle B
The pain was unbearable!
"Where are you, God?" Lucy prayed. "Don't you know how much I'm hurting? I don't know if I can go on. Are you there, God? Show yourself! You have always been with us in the past. You got us through the Depression when I was a kid. You gave Sam and me both good jobs after the war. We were able to give our kids all the things we never had. Can you blame us if we didn't have time to go to church? There was too much to do. I know I should have at least taken the kids, and now none of them will have anything to do with church. Oh, Lord, it hurts! Is this some kind of punishment for my sin?"
This was Lucy's seventh trip to the hospital in two years, and the day after her fourth radiation treatment. She was weary of being sick and discouraged by the constant pain. Nothing seemed to help. The doctors and nurses assured her that she would feel better in time. "The odds are in your favor," they said. But Lucy was beginning to lose hope. It had been three years since the cancer had first been diagnosed. She wanted her life back: to have some feeling of normalcy again - to be able to take care of herself, to laugh with friends, to fix a meal and go for a swim - and to be free of the pain. Each agonizing hour seemed an eternity.
"O God," Lucy prayed, "take me away from all of this. I can't bear it any longer."
Lucy slipped mercifully into the morphine fog which had been her only respite from the pain for months and months. When she came to herself a few hours later, she heard the strains of an old gospel hymn being played on the organ in the chapel down the hall. Lucy surprised herself as she began to hum the familiar tune and then to mouth the long forgotten words:
Have thine own way, Lord! Have thine own way!
Thou art the potter; I am the clay.
Mold me and make me after thy will,
While I am waiting, yielded and still.
Have thine own way, Lord! Have thine own way!
Wounded and weary, help me I pray!
Power, all power, surely is thine!
Touch me and heal me, Savior divine.
____________
Adelaide A. Pollard, "Have Thine Own Way, Lord," The United Methodist Hymnal (Nashville: The United Methodist Publishing House, 1989), p. 382.
"Where are you, God?" Lucy prayed. "Don't you know how much I'm hurting? I don't know if I can go on. Are you there, God? Show yourself! You have always been with us in the past. You got us through the Depression when I was a kid. You gave Sam and me both good jobs after the war. We were able to give our kids all the things we never had. Can you blame us if we didn't have time to go to church? There was too much to do. I know I should have at least taken the kids, and now none of them will have anything to do with church. Oh, Lord, it hurts! Is this some kind of punishment for my sin?"
This was Lucy's seventh trip to the hospital in two years, and the day after her fourth radiation treatment. She was weary of being sick and discouraged by the constant pain. Nothing seemed to help. The doctors and nurses assured her that she would feel better in time. "The odds are in your favor," they said. But Lucy was beginning to lose hope. It had been three years since the cancer had first been diagnosed. She wanted her life back: to have some feeling of normalcy again - to be able to take care of herself, to laugh with friends, to fix a meal and go for a swim - and to be free of the pain. Each agonizing hour seemed an eternity.
"O God," Lucy prayed, "take me away from all of this. I can't bear it any longer."
Lucy slipped mercifully into the morphine fog which had been her only respite from the pain for months and months. When she came to herself a few hours later, she heard the strains of an old gospel hymn being played on the organ in the chapel down the hall. Lucy surprised herself as she began to hum the familiar tune and then to mouth the long forgotten words:
Have thine own way, Lord! Have thine own way!
Thou art the potter; I am the clay.
Mold me and make me after thy will,
While I am waiting, yielded and still.
Have thine own way, Lord! Have thine own way!
Wounded and weary, help me I pray!
Power, all power, surely is thine!
Touch me and heal me, Savior divine.
____________
Adelaide A. Pollard, "Have Thine Own Way, Lord," The United Methodist Hymnal (Nashville: The United Methodist Publishing House, 1989), p. 382.

