The Tiny, Dark, Closet Chapel

The day’s overwhelming schedule was a labyrinth of trying to navigate floors of winding paths, random elevators and unsettling realizations. My instinctive optimism was totally depleted. I needed reinforcement. I sought my only tried and true refueling station. Where is the Chapel? The security staff member responded, “Across from the Pharmacy”. I countered, “the Chapel IS the pharmacy – best medicine to cure all mankind’s ailments”. He laughed and shook his head accordingly.

Once located, the Cancer Center’s pharmacy had wide open, triple sliding glass doors. Eight people, side by side, could easily stroll inside. It was not so for the Chapel. Its opening was a tiny, heavy, solid dark door. Instantaneously, my dander was up. Why was worldly medicine an open storefront for the masses to enter; and the door, for seeking a dose of God’s antibiotic healing, a closed off cranny?

My need at that moment was to rest in the uplifting space of the outstretched, unobstructed arms of our Heavenly Father. Of even greater importance, I yearned to show my ailing brother God’s powerful, healing presence within the walls of the medical infirmary administering his Bone Marrow Transplant.

With hope that what was displayed on the outside wouldn’t be portrayed on the inside, I opened the cumbersome door for the Chapel. Stepping inside, I was both shocked and angry. Accurate description would be a small, dark closet. The Cancer Center covered acres and acres of land. A pinhead of claustrophobic space was set aside for God. A few token vigil lights were stuck in a lonely corner. Would have missed their presence completely had not one been a miniature speck of light in the darkness. Taking a three-point turn to exit, God’s presence (though I didn’t at the moment recognize it) caught my glance. On the wall beside the door, was a hanging Mosiac lit from behind.

To tell the truth, I walked away from the Chapel, but I didn’t take even a baby step from disappointment, dismay and anger that grandiose medicine failed to offer its critical patients a shining haven for spiritual healing. However, two nights later, God spread the balm of His wisdom and purpose over my open, irritated wounds.

I woke post-midnight to God’s explanation. My child you overlooked the meaning and message. Sometimes, my children cannot escape the darkness of disease. They feel imprisoned in a tiny isolation cell. There is no escape. I did not sentence them to their jail. Satan did. But they do not sit alone in darkness. I am with them always. I AM THE MOSAIC OF LOVE AND LIGHT, even in their darkest dungeon. Yes, you and the sick long for the expanse and freedom of my breath of life. What you must recognize, know and trust is that, though the jaws of suffering outwardly seem suffocating, My breath of eternal life ever expands your souls. My glory does not need monumental space to manifest its power. It shines greatest (and is most needed) in the peepholes of My children’s pain and suffering. You, your brother and each and every one of My children do not have to meet Me only in brilliant, grandiose space set aside for worship. I promise to always meet you in the places and hours of your greatest needs — especially in the cut off, life threatening closets of your darkest trials and tribulations. This is the meaning and message of the tiny, dark, closet Chapel. May it light your brother’s cancer journey.

“In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1: 4-5 (ESV)