The hospital was nearly deserted, save for the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the distant beeping of monitors. The heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the muffled sounds of shuffling feet and hushed voices.
John sat alone in the empty chapel, his head bowed and hands clasped tightly together as he fought back tears. His wife, Emma, had just undergone a surgery that had gone horribly wrong. The sterile walls seemed to close in on him as he anxiously waited for any news from the doctors. Every ticking second felt like an eternity as he prayed for a miracle, but the prognosis remained grim. The weight of uncertainty and fear pressed down on him, suffocating and unrelenting.
As John sat there, consumed by worry and fear, he heard the soft shuffle of footsteps approaching. He looked up to see a janitor—an older Middle Eastern man with kind eyes and a warm smile, pushing a mop down the hallway. The janitor paused when he saw John and approached him.
“Mind if I sit?” the janitor asked in a gentle, Middle Eastern accent.
John nodded, grateful for any distraction from his spiraling thoughts. The janitor sat down beside him, setting his mop bucket aside.
“You look like you shouldn’t be alone right now,” the janitor said. “What’s on your mind, my friend?”
John took a deep breath and let out a shaky sigh. “It’s my wife. She had surgery today, and it didn’t go well. The doctors… they’re not sure if she’s going to make it.”
The janitor nodded, his expression full of sympathy. His face was a canvas of shadows and wrinkles, etched with lines of empathy and sadness. Every crease seemed to hold a piece of the janitor’s own heartbreak, as if his very features were formed from the weight of compassion.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “It’s never easy when someone you love is in pain.”
John felt a tear slip down his cheek, like a single, solitary raindrop falling from a dark and turbulent sky. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve prayed—I’ve been praying—but I feel so helpless.”
The janitor placed a comforting hand on John’s shoulder. “Sometimes, prayer is the most helpful thing a man can do. Even in the darkest of times, the Lord always hears. Do you believe that?”
John’s gaze settled on the janitor, his eyes scanning the man’s features intently. There was a sense of warmth emanating from him—a soothing presence that made John yearn to trust him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something about this man that felt comforting and reassuring.
“I used to,” John admitted. “But it’s hard to believe God is listening when my wife is still in so much pain.”
The janitor smiled kindly. “Faith isn’t about everything being perfect. It’s about trusting God even when all evidence points to the contrary. Faith isn’t a science.”
John nodded slowly, feeling a small spark of hope ignite in his heart. “I want to believe that. I want to believe she’ll be okay.”
The janitor squeezed his shoulder gently. “Keep praying. I’ve always liked the psalmist’s prayer in Psalm ten when he laments, ‘Why do You stand afar off, O LORD? Why do You hide in times of trouble?’ He, too, thought God was aloof and was not listening. But then he says, ‘But You have seen, for You observe trouble and grief.’ That’s the beauty of faith—though it struggles and doubts, nevertheless, it trusts in the Lord who is sensitive to our griefs and troubles.”
A calming tranquility enveloped John, wrapping him in its embrace like a warm blanket. It had been a long time since he had experienced such peace—ever since the chaos and turmoil of recent events began. The weight on his shoulders lifted slightly and for a moment, everything felt right in the world. The worries that had plagued him seemed to fade away, replaced with a sense of calmness and clarity he had been desperately seeking.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. “I needed to hear that.”
The janitor stood up, picking up his mop again. “Take care, my friend. I’ll be sending my own prayer for you and your wife to the Father.”
As the janitor walked away, John closed his eyes and continued praying, feeling a newfound strength and faith fill his heart. He didn’t know it at the time, but he had just had a comforting encounter with Jesus, disguised as a humble janitor, guiding him through one of the toughest moments of his life.
The Lutheran Column 