The Elevator Encounter

I was at Virginia Hospital Center, in the elevator traveling from the 8th to the ground floor. The elevator stopped, the doors opened and a small young black woman, pushed in front of me as she got on. She was determined to be right in front of all the buttons, so I stepped back. She was followed by a slightly larger black man. As she stared straight ahead, he stood at her side and bereted her. He called her every cuss word that I had ever heard.

People standing outside the open elevator door froze then shook their heads. They were not getting on. The doors closed. It was just the three of us. We stopped twice more on the way down but no one stepped in. The man threatened to beat her. Somewhere in the string of expletives it came out that they had a child in the hospital.

He got within a few inches of her. I was directly behind her about a foot away and I could have touched him without taking a step. I wondered if I should intervene. We reached the ground floor, the doors opened. She moved quickly off, I followed her, and her—what should I call him? boyfriend? husband?—followed me off. I stood and watched them as they cross the cavernous lobby. He soon fell silent but followed her doggedly out of the hospital.

I stood and watched them and prayed. I prayed for him and prayed for her. I prayed for their son.

I had been feeling pretty depleted, feeling pretty vulnerable when I got on that elevator. My husband had been getting some heavy duty chemo. I had been with him for 8 days at that point and was going home to get more food and clean clothes.

You probably have not been in that exact situation before but I am sure you have experienced something like that where you are exhausted, depleted, feeling vulnerable and then something unexpected happens that completely overwhelms what little capacity remains.

Where is God in that situation? What crosses your mind when you are in a situation like that? There have been times in the past where I would have been angry with God for allowing something like that to happen to me when I was already struggling. I would have said, “Lord, you know how vulnerable I am, this is too much! Don’t you care about what I am going through?”

But something has happened to me in the last three years, something that has changed my perspective.

It all started nearly three years ago, September 18th, 2014. I was having a cozy time with God, reading John 15:9-20, which says, “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.” 

I paused. I asked God, “How do I remain in your love?  What does that look like?” 

He said, “Keep my commands.”

So I asked, “Lord, is there any area where I am failing to keep your commands?"

“You struggle to trust me, but you are growing so much. Growing in love.”

Then he invited me to look at all wonderful things he was doing in my life: My son had gotten into business school, my daughter and her husband had moved back to the States from Australia and she had gotten a full ride to William and Mary. He had also given my son-in-law a good job and had led them to a wonderful church. We had had our annual conference which had gone well. We had wonderful summer classes going on—God was opening doors.

He said, “I led you every step of the way. I opened doors. I granted you favor. I provided.” My heart felt so full as I read Scripture and interacted with God.

“Everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you,” he said.

My response was: “Oh Lord, teach me your ways. Help me to recognize what you are showing me. Teach me to love.”

God had me in trust training. Like boot camp but instead of building muscles, he was building trust. It was hard. In the midst of many wonderful things, clear blessings from God, were some really hard things. 

Here are some of my journal entries from that season:

Lord, I don’t know what I am doing.

The training happened in the presence of God. As I got closer, I began to see more and more who he is.

Trust is a lens that changes what you see. When your father was angry, volatile and cruel you tend to see God through that lens.

I was not traumatized by the scene in the elevator. I thought about saying something, but I just prayed. I prayed again as I watched the young woman head to the door, the man following close behind. I prayed for her and I prayed for him. I believed that my prayers made a difference and are still making a difference today.