What Working in a Hospital Has Taught Me About God

Edward Mote wrote just one hymn in his lifetime: “My Hope Is Built on Nothing Less.” Many sing this song in our churches today without ever reading about how the hymn came to be. Mote became a Christian as a young adult and soon started writing about his understanding of salvation. Later in the week of his conversion, Mote went to visit a friend whose wife was sick and dying. Not knowing how to comfort these friends in their grief, Mote pulled out the lyrics he had written on a piece of paper and started singing “My Hope Is Built on Nothing Less” for the first time.

I’ve been reminded of these lyrics several times as I walk through the halls of the hospital. I never know what each day will bring. Working in a level 1 trauma center can bring you face to face with some of the worst suffering. However, “when darkness veils His lovely face, I rest on His unchanging grace.”[1]

In this article, I will share what working in a hospital has taught me about God. Trauma raises all sorts of questions about God’s character and His faithfulness. Trauma can shatter faith and silence hope, leaving you to wonder, “Does God have the capacity to help me?” It’s important to work through these struggles and not to treat them as failures of faith.

God’s Infinity in Relation to Space and Time

What is God like? To answer this question, we must look to the message of the Bible in its entirety. In it we find a faithful account of what God has said and what God works to do through the redeeming work of Jesus Christ. Working as hospital chaplain has brought several of God’s attributes to mind. However, before we look into a few of these attributes, I should note that God is infinite and that we are finite. God dwells in “unapproachable light,” and He is beyond comparison (1 Tim. 6:16; Isa. 40:25). Because of this we should always conduct our study of God in humility and reverence. I am thankful that Scripture accommodates our finite ability to comprehend.

One attribute of God I find comforting when walking the halls of a hospital is the omnipresence of God. Jeremiah writes, “‘Am I a God who is only near’ – this is the LORD’S declaration – ‘and not a God who is far away? Can a person hide in secret places where I cannot see him?’ – the LORD’S declaration. ‘Do I not fill the heavens and the earth?’ – the LORD’S declaration” (Jeremiah 23:23–24, CSB).

Scripture makes clear how God fills the entire universe (see Psalm 139:7–12). We must not understand this claim as tantamount to the belief that God is present in every point of space in a pantheistic sense. Rather, He is present to every point of space. As Timothy George points out, “God is not a boundless bulk filling all space, but by his divine agency he is available in the fullness of his power to sustain, order, govern, and guide everything that is, wherever it is.”[2] While this attribute comforts us, it also challenges us. God’s omnipresence ensures us there is nowhere we go alone, but there is also nowhere to hide.

Another area where God’s infinitude extends is time. He is the Creator and owner of all time. Psalm 90 declares this truth: “Lord, you have been our refuge in every generation. Before the mountains were born, before you gave birth to the earth and the world, from eternity, you are God” (Psalm 90:1–2).

Moses takes comfort in this psalm by saying how God existed before the creation of time and lives in eternity. Some have wondered how God could relate to a temporal world in time. One such view, known as Open Theism, says God does not know what we will freely do in the future.  However, we should never see time as a limitation on God. We can find comfort in how God is both transcendent over time and also immanently active within time. C. S. Lewis captures this thought of God immanently active within creation well:

God is not hurried along in the Time-stream of this universe any more than an author is hurried along in the imaginary time of his own novel, He has infinite attention to spare for each one of us. He does not have to deal with us in the mass. You are as much alone with Him as if you were the only being He had ever created. When Christ died, He died for you individually just as much as if you had been the only man in the world.[3]

I have certainly found comfort in truth of God’s infinite ability to act within space and time. He hears prayers whether they are offered in a giant cathedral or in a trauma room at UK Healthcare. Because God is not bound by time and yet is active within time, we should not see circumstances as an endless, meaningless, painful cycle from which we long to escape. Rather, God’s infinity in relation to space and time communicates His awareness of our fears, our doubts, our sorrows, and our pains. He is equally aware of our joys, our hopes, our dreams, and our desires. Why? Because He cares for us.

Prayer and Providence

While we can find comfort in God’s infinity in relation to space and time, we can also find help in prayer. Prayer is beautiful in that it allows the believer to participate with God in His work. However, being with patients in the hospital, I hear many questions related to prayer. “If I pray longer, am I more likely to get the outcome I want?” “Do I get through more quickly if I really believe God can heal?” These are delicate questions that we have to think through with grace.

One of the first things I do when I hear a question like this is to point out how the question assumes that God is unaware of our needs and that we might coerce Him into acting on our demands. I do my best to convey how God is certainly aware of our problems and willing to comfort us in time of need. God can work apart from our prayers, but He has given us a meaningful way to participate in His work.

There may be a temptation to think that prayer cannot change things, but prayer does indeed change things. It can change our ideas, understanding, and desires. Prayer changes us. Sure, we petition God to change certain medical outcomes because no diagnosis stands in the way of His omnipotence. However, the Lord does not need a ventilator to save a life. We pray to understand God’s plan. We fast and pray, not to impress God or to coerce Him, but to understand Him more. In the end, prayer is primarily about sanctification, not revelation. It is intrinsically good—good for us—apart from the answers we get. Moreover, if prayer is primarily about sanctification, then we should build thanksgiving and praise into our prayers. Therefore, we pray because we need to pray and want to talk to God.

Finally, there may be a time when the pain swells so much that you can’t pray. You might be so overcome with grief that you can’t speak. In those moments, even when “we do not know what to pray for as we ought,” the Holy Spirit himself “intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words” (Rom. 8:26), such a mysterious and beautiful comfort.

Conclusion

Edward Mote understood the simplicity of what remains secure and what will always be slipping away: “When all around my soul gives way, He then is all my hope and stay.” Our hope is truly built on nothing less than Christ. He is close to us when our soul gives way because he is the Great Sufferer. No one has ever suffered more and no one ever will. Such a love can meet our need in a time of need (Heb. 4:14–16).


[1]Edward Mote, “My Hope Is Built on Nothing Less,” 1837.

[2]Timothy George, “The Nature of God: Being, Attributes, and Acts,” in A Theology for the Church, ed. Daniel L. Akin (Nashville: B&H Academic, 2007), 234.

[3]C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (New York: Macmillan, 1952), 147.

Author: Zach Maloney

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