“He is born. The baby is born!”
Oh, what joy we felt! The delivery had gone well and without complications. We were on our way home to enjoy life. I smiled at my wife and she smiled back. Heaven had come down.
This was the day.
I got the call while I was away on a trip. Our son was three now and I wasn’t prepared for the news.
“You’ve got to come home right away. Our son is sick.”
“What’s wrong? Why do I have to come back? Doesn’t the doctor have a treatment?”
“You don’t understand.” My wife was at the end of her rope. “He has leukemia.”
This was the night.
Months in the hospital. Months of doctors, needles, medication, and stress. Willing nurses and unwilling nurses. Eating on the run. Prayers and worries, friends and kindness. And then the doctor finally said those wonderful words: “He’s healed. The leukemia is gone.”
I smiled at my wife and she smiled back. Heaven had come down again.
This was the day.
Our son was seven years old when we moved to Botswana, a faraway land with golden opportunities for our mission work. How happy we were to leave Europe, to leave leukemia behind, to give our son a new start. It was going to be wonderful. Of that, we were sure…
But why was he so pale again? Why was he so tired, so very tired?
And then we knew. The doctor confirmed it. The leukemia was back.
This was the night.
What are African hospitals like? They are fearsome. They are confusing, dark, hot, and dirty. Cockroaches? Yes, many right there in the examining room. But the hands were kind and friendly, and so was God.
And then, after six months the doctor smiled and we heard those wonderful words again: “He’s healed. The leukemia is gone.”
I smiled at my wife and she smiled back.
This was the day.
Our son had grown. He was 10 already. Had he forgotten leukemia? Of course not, and neither had we. That’s why we knew it right away when we saw the first signs.
“No, God … no! Not again!” How do you tell your son that the leukemia is back for a third time?
We sighed, we prayed, and we cried. “God, we will not doubt. You are loving and You are good. We trust in You.” But we didn’t smile.
This was the night.
You probably can guess the story by now. Yes, it was back to the fight. We had now memorized the difficult names of the medications. We knew when he would vomit. We learned to be stern to doctors who refused to wash their hands before entering the examining room. We loved most of the nurses and disliked a few. We made friends and we prayed.
Then the doctor said that only a bone marrow transplant could heal him this time. Where do you get a match? Impossible?
Not so. God knew. He pointed to our youngest son. He was a match.
I smiled at my wife and she smiled back.
This was the day.
And the next night?
In this case, it didn’t come. The bone marrow transplant was successful. We danced and rejoiced, not only because our son had been healed, but because God is good. He is always good.—In the day, but also in the night. Maybe especially in the dark.
Since then, many other nights have shrouded our lives. But they’ve always ended. Night always gives way to day again. Some nights seem longer than others, but that goes for the days, too. The cycle is always there.
The day and the night, God made them both in the beginning. He created the world in six days and then He rested on the seventh. (See Genesis 1–2:4.)
But soon the cycle will stop. Soon we will all rest with Him. Soon we will join Him in heaven when our earthly bodies give way to the heavenly. Then our days and nights will be over. Forever we will be with the Lord where there is no more pain, and all tears will be wiped from our eyes (Revelation 21:4).
Soon, on the seventh day…