The Exam
Mildred Smith, a former schoolteacher, was a resident at the nursing home where I worked. She was in relatively good health physically, but sadly, her mental abilities had been waning for several years. Since our goal was to slow her decline, we kept track of how she was doing with what is known as a “Mini-Mental Status Exam.”
Every other month she met with a social worker who asked her a set of questions and gave her tasks to complete. At first, they were reasonably easy (her name, the day and date, the season of the year, who the president was). Then they would progressively become more complex (for example, counting back from 100 by sevens).
On a bright sunny day, Mildred was wheeled into my office. We began the exam with her name, which with a bit of hesitation, she recounted. The next few questions were met with longer pauses and an increasingly frustrated look. It was clear she was struggling. I moved on to the next question.
“Mildred,” I asked, “what season of the year is it?” At this, she slammed her hand down and the table and let out an expletive.
“What’s the matter, Mrs. Smith?” I asked tenderly. She furrowed her brow, gave me a fiery look, then spat back: “If you had told me there was going to be a test, I would have studied!”
It’s easy to understand Mildred’s frustration. Try as she might, she could not cover what was an embarrassing fact for her—she was losing her ability to remember and to think as she once did. Her life had been built around her ability to think clearly. It was frightening and sad for her to realize that she was no longer as sharp as she had once been. When the test exposed her loss, her grief and fear turned to anger and blame.
No matter our age or abilities, it is sobering to admit that life is filled with losses. Some, like Mrs. Smiths’ exam, might be lessened by preparation. But many come on us unexpectedly at times and in ways we are not expecting. Depending on the type of loss, it can leave us scrambling to protect our dignity, stuff, or even our very lives. As we search for a way to hide our lack, we may be overcome with fear, shame, blame, or anger.
But there is another way. Consider the case of Mrs. Elisabeth Elliot. A lifetime missionary, famous speaker, and a prayer warrior, “Ms. Elliot” was now also losing her mental faculties. One Thanksgiving, she attended her family’s holiday meal. After dinner, it came time for dessert. One of the great-grandchildren was sent to ask her what flavor of ice cream she wished.
“Ms. Elisabeth,” they asked, “Would you like chocolate or vanilla ice cream?” The question proved too much for the elderly saint to take in. She simply could not remember the various flavors. At first, she looked perplexed. “Well, I’m not quite sure I know …” Then she continued with a confident dignity “But I’ve found that when I don’t know, it’s always best to pray about it.”
In her time of need, Ms. Elliot found no need for fear or sadness, anger or blame. She had spent a life understanding her limits and trusting in God to supply the difference. Now, at the end of life, it was a natural reaction to turn to Him—even in the smallest things.
When the Bible speaks of having a life that is “hidden in God,” this is part of what it means. He becomes our shelter in times of loss. David used it with enemies on his heels. Paul stood on it to reassure Christians of their eternal security. And though it may seem a small thing, Elisabeth used it that Thanksgiving Day to battle her failing memory.
To be “hidden” means that we find that we can admit from the very start that we are not smart enough, fast enough, or holy enough to escape life’s losses. Our confidence, whether threatened by a faulty memory or an enemy attack, is rooted in Him.
When our best efforts are not enough, choosing Him as our security gives us the strength to say, “I don’t know.” It keeps us from being ruled by our negative emotions. It provides a place to turn where we can feel safe. There is a quiet confidence for one whose knowledge is not based in their own learning, whose safety is not grounded in their own strength or whose future is not secured by their bank account or portfolio.
In fact, the only concrete preparation that will leave us secure is the practice of hiding ourselves in Him. Practice it today to prepare for tomorrow.
—Rev. James R. Needham, PhD
PhD, MDiv
Psalm 32:7 reads, “… in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent and set me high upon a rock.” Colossians 3:2-3 counsels, “Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.” Today’s devotional thoughts invites us to ‘hide’ ourselves in Christ, and these Bible verses give us a glimpse into the reality of His covering over us. We cannot be sure of what will unfold tomorrow, but we can know—with all confidence—the One who holds tomorrow in His hands, and Who holds us in His grip of loving grace. May we learn more the safety and comfort of hiding in Him. —DH
—David Hoskins, Founder & Care Guide, Sanctuary Clinics