By Rhonda Sassano

Secret Place

I died nearly 8 years ago.  I was at home when I had a major cardiac event, and I literally dropped dead. My family was home, and did their best to revive me, but with no success, they called the EMTs who shocked me back no less than five times. When I was finally stable enough to be transported to the hospital, of course, I went straight to the ICU. After many tests and procedures, no one seem to know what had happened exactly, or even why if it happened. And in the weeks and months that followed, I underwent more tests to determine what had gone wrong and how it could be prevented in the future. But at the six month mark, the doctors determined that I was completely healthy, completely normal, and took me off all eight medications I had been placed on.  Now, nearly 8 years later, I never even think about it; I just expect to be healthy, normal, and functioning properly.

Thursday, this past week, I had an appointment for a pre-op consultation. I need to undergo a simple procedure that many women my age endure. The doctor performing the consultation asked me about the cardiac event from eight years ago. I related to him the basics, and that I hadn’t had any trouble since and that I was on no medication. He did a brief EKG, drew some blood, and expressed concern with the upcoming surgery.  He insisted I visit the  original cardiologist for clearance before proceeding with surgery. When I seem nonplussed and unconvinced, he pulled up some documents on his computer and highlighted a few sentences there. He invited me over to the screen and read them out loud to me. The sentences stated that a couple key issues were present and were the cause of the heart attack. Also, the bloodwork revealed that another issue is currently present and could also present challenges for the surgery and beyond. 

As you can imagine, I was shocked, and devastated is not too strong a word, and very annoyed that the original cardiologist had not relayed this information to my husband and myself. And on my way home, I found myself an emotional mess. I found myself struggling to continue to believe that I had been 100% healed. I heard myself say out loud: “I do not believe the report of the doctor. I believe the word of the Lord. I have been healthy, normal with a perfectly functioning heart for the last eight years… Why should now be any different?” And then I realized that water retention is another symptom of a heart that isn’t pumping correctly…. Oooh.  “Okay Father, you have my attention.”  But for the rest of the day and the next, I felt… vulnerable.  Let down.  Doubt and belief literally warred in my thoughts and spirit.  And yes.  Depression was there, too, to put in his two cents. That neglected blob (who was well-contained a couple articles ago) was back with a vengeance.  Like a demented wizard, he swirled his fingers through my emotions, churning them up and daring me to let the dam break.  

At some point, I said aloud, “I’m not giving in.  I’m not going back there.  I will honor the Lord even with my response to this news, and even while I am completely alone.  He is worthy of my trust, regardless of the report, regardless of the prognosis. The least I can do is give Him glory for His past healing and claim it again for my future.”  You’d think the waves would’ve calmed down then, right?  Sorry, no.  My words do have power, but not like His!  So I began to quote Ps 91 “He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High, shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.”  I stopped to muse about it. How do I dwell in the secret place?  Where IS the secret place? How do I find it and how do I stay there?  And is it a secret place or a secret place? As the emotions swelled with longing, tears coursed down my cheeks.  “Father,” I whispered, “that is all I want. I want your secret place to be mine, too.  You invite me to it, right here, but I don’t know how to get there.”  And I thought about the disciples questioning Jesus with where He was going and why they couldn’t follow Him there… Jesus’ gentle reply soothed my heart, “You know the way.”  I took a deep breath.  The challenge had been presented… “Father, you want me to ask you what you want to say to me. But I don’t want to, because I’m afraid of the answer.  And that makes no sense because you are always good, You’ve never made a mistake with me, so why I am so hesitant? But I want to know your heart. So I ask you, Father, what do you want to say to me?” 

“My precious Rhonda, my darling daughter!  I love you SO crazy much!  You are worth the life of my very own only Son.. what else would I not give you for the asking?  I know this is tough.  Really tough! But you can DO it, you can handle it or I wouldn’t have put it on you.  But don’t take on the burden of provision. That is MY job.  You just do the next thing and be faithful to ask and obey.  That’s all!  I won’t let you fall. I won’t forsake you.  I won’t torture you by hiding.  I’m HERE.  Always present, closer than close.  Your  very breath! And your sacrifice of worship thrills me and blesses me and I literally dance with joy over you when you come in your sorrow and doubts and misgivings…. I don’t judge you for them.  I see them; I know them.  I’m so very proud of you for acknowledging them and believing me anyway.”  Sobbing with relief, I cried, “I believe, Father, help my unbelief.”

An alarm on my phone sounded loudly and with a rush, reality took over:  time to clock in to work! I dried my face and breezed by the parents and clients in the lobby, hoping for zero interactions.  “Thank you, Lord,” I breathed as the hallway door closed behind me. 10 minutes later, child in hand, another alarm went off, this time a reminder to be grateful, to be content with now.  I focused my heart and tried to repeat the words with depth and meaning.  Feeling nothing, I silenced the alarm.  All day, every hour, similar alarms reminded me to “be grateful, be content with now.” I wondered if my diligence would result in any fruit at all.  I slept fitfully that night. 

Saturday morning dawned. I awoke praying in the Spirit.  Gratefulness swept through my soul.  “I guess I’m going to be ok!” I looked around for Blob (the depression.  See my article “A long time coming”)  Still in his plexiglass box, he was now small and wimpy, very un-threatening! “Thank you that Your Word is true, even if it takes some patience…” 

So life goes on.  According to the doctor, my heart isn’t working at 100%.  I acknowledge the facts.  But the truth is different than the facts. According to the Word, my heart beats at the command of my Father!  And every day that I’m alive and have energy to do the things in front of me is a day that I’ve experienced healing!  I had a measure of faith eight years ago, for an instant, miraculous healing.  Now I need a bigger faith to believe for healing every day, to hear the doctor’s report and let it impact my actions toward a healthier lifestyle without allowing  it to decrease my faith in His ability and willingness to provide health and even healing.  And yes, I still sense the tension between belief and unbelief.  It’s a tightrope walk, for sure! But the tightrope is in the secret place.  And that’s all I want. 

“God is not looking for those who can but those who will.”