Wednesday, August 13, 2025

41

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Recently, I came across an interesting biblical concept which is replicated again and again throughout the Old and New Testament scriptures.

 

I was scrolling through my news feed on my social media page, and suddenly I saw this photo of a hand with the accompanying wrist attached. And on the underside of the wrist, the tattoo of the number 41. I want to share a broad overview, and hit or miss numerous variables related to this topic.

 

Well, let’s stop for a moment. I would like to read our scriptural text for you.

 

“Slowly, if ever so surely it will come to pass.” (Hab. 2:3)

 

That’s it. Ten words. A promise which will at some point be fulfilled. And the under riding implication… Be Patient!

 

Tonight, I’m going to share some scriptural examples and some personal examples with you.

 

God foreknew each and every circumstance of your life… before He made the stars. I find that strangely comforting.

 

Life isn’t easy. We have all experienced circumstances, sometimes the result of our own bad choices, sometimes just experiential; which would try the soul.

 

A few years ago, I was watching an interview between an anchorman and a priest on FOX news, and the topic happened to relate to the late Pope John Paul II, who had recently passed away. Now, I’m not keen on many facets of Catholicism, but I believe John Paul was a good man. And this story will serve our purpose; since it applies to all of us.

The priest began to speak about the sufferings of the pope, how that after the assassination attempt, the Pope suffered pain the rest of his life. And as John Paul aged, he developed Parkinson's Disease which proved to be extremely debilitating, as well. And yet for all his suffering, this priest continued to travel, and minister to his people.

Near the end of the interview the Catholic cleric quoted a rather singular scripture, Colossians 1:24.

 

"Filling up in my own body the unfinished sufferings of Christ."

And the newsman responded, "I don't understand. What is unfinished about Christ' sufferings?"

To which the kindly priest, with a sad twinkle in his eye, responded...

"…Our Participation.”

(And to be sure, there’s nothing we can add to Christ’ atonement. But, according to this scripture, it is an honor to suffer on behalf of the Savior).

Too few believers grasp or appreciate the wherewithal we have been given to suffer with Him. Not that we desire it or seek it, but when it comes, we bear faithfully with it, and gladly participate in what this verse calls his “unfinished sufferings.”

So, what is this #41 tattoo which I referred to? Well, 40 is the number of completion. 41 is the number of new beginnings. It is the number of a promise fulfilled. 40 is about the past. 41 is about the future. Not all that different from a popular phrase related to the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ.

 

“It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming!”

 

Having suffered, having been tried, having experienced the worst which life has to offer, the dawn, as it were, of a new day.

 

 

In the Bible, it rained for 40 days and 40 nights.

Day 41 came and the rain stopped.

 

Moses murdered an Egyptian who threatened his people, and hid in the desert for 40 years.

Year 41 came, and God called him to help rescue Israel.

 

Moses went up on the mountain for 40 days. On Day 41, he received the Ten Commandments.

 

The Israelites wandered in the wilderness for 40 years.

The Year 41 dawns and they march into the Promised Land.

 

There’s ever so many ways and means by which your 40 days, 40 weeks, 40 months, or 40 years will metamorphose into that grand and glorious #41.

 

In regard to the number 40, my wife and I are quickly approaching a total of 40 weeks in which she and I have been separated between last year and this year due to the three, soon to be four surgeries of the brain which our daughter has experienced. I am convinced that our 41 is coming. More importantly, I believe our daughter’s 41 is coming.

 

Speaking of doctors and hospitals…

 

In a quiet pediatric wing of a San Francisco hospital in the late 1990s, a nurse paused outside a room, blinking back tears. Inside, a small boy with terminal cancer was doubled over in laughter. Dressed in scrubs three sizes too big, with a stethoscope around his neck and a ridiculous red nose, Robin Williams had the child laughing so hard he momentarily forgot the pain. No cameras, no press, no entourage. Only Robin, doing voices, pulling faces, imitating cartoon characters, making joy out of thin air.

 

He would often call ahead anonymously, asking if there were any children who might benefit from a visit. Many times, he arrived alone, sometimes with a bag of puppets, or dressed in character, even slipping into his iconic "Mrs. Doubtfire" voice. The children, some too weak to sit up, would smile, and giggle. Parents watched in awe as their child, often in the final days of life, laughed again. Sometimes for the first time in weeks.

 

One nurse recalled a 2003 visit when Robin spent over an hour with a ten-year-old leukemia patient who had only days left. The boy's father had been stoic for weeks, refusing to cry in front of his son. That day, as Robin pretended to conduct an invisible orchestra of squeaky IV poles and sang a ridiculous operatic ballad to the beeping of heart monitors, the man finally wept. Not from grief, but from relief.

 

There were no rewrites, no retakes. The children were often fading, the air heavy with grief, and yet he found ways to ignite hope, even if only briefly. He never rushed. He sat on floors, shared popsicles, and held hands. Afterward, he often sat alone in his car for a long time, sometimes crying, sometimes calling a friend just to hear a familiar voice.

 

His visits didn’t cure illnesses or change medical outcomes. But they did something else. They gave a flicker of joy to the fading. They softened the hardest moments for grieving families. And they reminded everyone in the room, patients, parents, nurses, even Robin himself, that laughter still had power, even at the edge of “goodbye.”

 

Sometimes God uses people, even non-believers, to bring our 40 days, 40 weeks, 40 months, or 40 years to a close.

 

Goliath taunted Israel for 40 days.

Day 41 came, and David slew him.

 

Jonah preached a message of repentance to Ninevah for 40 days.

On Day 41, God renounced His plan to destroy them.

 

It was August of 1992, and our local National Guard unit had been mobilized to assist the citizens of Dade County. As a result of Andrew, a Category five level hurricane, thousands of dwellings and businesses were savagely demolished.

 

In a newspaper article I wrote later, I refer to the utter lack of color which met my eye wherever I turned. Every building, and I mean every building, for twenty miles in any direction displayed some degree of damage, and a majority were reduced to little more than rubble. And oddly enough, something that is foreign to us in Florida, every tree and every bush was completely stripped of their leaves and flowers.

 

During the forty days and nights that I served in Miami, I began to experience an unusual amount of fatigue.

 

It was only later that it occurred to me that much of the apparent tiredness and lack of energy was the result of sensory deprivation, since during those dawn to dusk days in Homestead, Florida my vision was limited to white, black and gray, and an almost total lack of the color green.

 

As human beings, we are meant to see in color. Having ever viewed the world in color, our brains are not equipped to experience life in black and white.

 

We had returned on Day 41. My own figurative Day 41 caught up with me a few weeks later. I was home again. I felt good again. I could see this beautiful world in color.

 

Sometimes God uses what seems to be the natural sequence of circumstantial events to usher in the 41st day, 41st week, 41st month or 41st year; events which were known to Him; before He made the worlds.

Jesus fasted and was tempted for 40 days.

Day 41, and the devil fled.

 

After His resurrection, Jesus appeared to His disciples for 40 days.

On Day 41, He ascended into Heaven.

 

Now, I don’t know what your 41 will look like. Perhaps the trial, trouble, and turmoil will come to a screeching halt. Perhaps God will simply give you the grace to bear it. Perhaps the weariness of this world will give way to the permanence and glories of heaven. Perhaps heaven will be our #41.

 

I was a member of a large church in Tampa during my tenure at MacDill Air Force Base. I had recently attended several nightly revival meetings, and as the final service concluded Pastor Matheny invited the congregation to line up, and say our ‘farewells’ to the visiting evangelist.

While I have long since forgotten the name of the itinerant preacher, I will never forget one especially peculiar trait which he displayed on a recurring basis. For you see, at times, he would get “so wound up” that it seemed he needed to release his emotional mainspring. And thus, after this admonition, or a bit of spiritual insight, he’d kick out his right leg like he was punting a football, and shout,

“Hallelujah.”

Be that as it may, as I finally neared the somewhat quirky evangelist, and reached out to shake his hand, he looked me in the eyes, and offered me what was perhaps the two most crucial words in my entire life.

“Stay Encouraged!”

Though almost six decades have come and gone since that evening, and though this dear man may have, by now, passed from the earth, I have never forgotten his words, and they have buoyed me up, and afforded me courage when I might have, otherwise, simply given up.

And I think there is no more fitting manner in which to conclude what I have begun, nor anything more crucial I could offer than to pass that proverbial baton on to you; the one I received when I shook the preacher’s hand.

“Stay Encouraged!”

 

All this to say...don't quit. The rain will stop, the giant will fall, and you will, ultimately, enter your own experiential or literal "promised land."

 

Don't give up at 40.

 

Your 41 is coming.

by Bill McDonald, PhD


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