"And it happened when He was in a certain city, that a man who was full of leprosy saw Jesus; and he fell on his face and implored Him, saying "Lord, if You are willing, You can make me clean." Then He (Jesus) put out His hand and touched him, saying, "I am willing; be cleansed." (and) Immediately the leprosy left him."
The point that my Dad had made in his sermon that I loved was that Jesus reached out His hand and He touched him, this leper that no one had touched for probably many years. Throughout the gospels of Jesus' life, there are many miracles recorded. And most of them involve no physical contact by Jesus - simply His words. He certainly could have done the same in this situation, and the leper would have been just as healed. But Jesus full of compassion and love, touched the untouchable. This man probably had not felt the touch or caress of a human being for many years, and oh the longing he must have felt. Jesus saw the individual need of a man, and He met it.
Wednesday, a case from OR 19 got moved into OR 14 -- my room for the day. I definitely was unhappy about it. I had just finished my cases, and was looking forward to a few minutes of downtime, but the thing that made me the most unhappy was that while I was reading about the patient's history (before his arrival), I read that he had AIDS, Hepatitis C, Hepatitis B, and possibly TB. He was a heroin and cocaine addict, and he had multiple problems with his heart. My first thoughts were, "Grrrrrrrreat! Just great." I actually said a prayer that somehow this case would get canceled. To say I did not want to do it, would have been a huge understatement. As I was thinking these negative thoughts about this man, my heart was pricked and I was convicted at my judgmental and condescending attitude toward this man I had yet to meet. I felt as if God was reminding me that if I am to be like Him, then I must love the lepers of my day. I must touch the unclean. I must do my best to love those that He loves.
As I was feeling this conviction on my attitude, I felt further convicted as God reminded me of my trip to Nigeria. I was willing to travel 30-something hours and live in horrible conditions for a week in order to provide aid and care to Nigerians. Earlier this week, even, I had been looking at participating in another mission to South America this next spring. It was like God was saying to me, "So you will do it when it's a cool medical mission... you'll put up with it when it is something that appears adventurous and exciting... you'll post pictures on Facebook, and remember it with fondness.... but here I am bringing you someone who needs help just as badly, and you don't want to do it." When it's behind the scenes, when almost no one will know, realize, or care, am I guilty of thinking it's "less than" the other opportunities of love? Do I fail to serve God in my daily life, waiting for the right time, waiting for a "real" mission?
As I waited, and thought about these things, I asked God to forgive me for my lack of love, and by His grace, my heart began to hurt for this man, as the others waiting on him to arrive, began to verbalize things that only 30 minutes earlier I had been thinking.
When he arrived, I felt such a compassion for him. It was his birthday. He was too young to be so sick. So many bad decisions. I felt a hurt for him and a love for him, because I was trying to see Him the way that God sees him. It ended up that there were some things that needed to be worked out before we could proceed, and so I ended up being left alone with him in the OR for almost an hour. Usually, in cases like this, I sit behind the head of the bed, just so the patient can snooze, and so I can avoid chatting, but wanting to learn to be like Jesus, I pulled up a stool and sat by his bed. I reached out and touched his hand and told him that I had prayed for his surgery to go well. (He was very nervous) (and I really had because I had been really nervous about putting such a sick individual under anesthesia). I listened to him talk about his sister and his mom... I did my best to just love him compassionately.
I do not tell this to toot my own horn. So many times I have passed on other such opportunities. But I tell it because, it was a defining moment where I really realized how hard and uncompassionate my heart can be. And when God showed me these things, I didn't want to ever forget it. Maybe writing it will help me to practice it more. And maybe it will help a reader see the easy-to-miss opportunities for love in his or her life.
I think we as Americans often think that we need to do something grand in order to make a difference. We need to move to another country, or we at least need to travel to another country. We need to have an important job. etc. etc. But that's not true... I wasn't even doing "my job" when I was reaching out to this man. I wasn't providing anesthesia at the time... I was just sitting there.
Haven't been keeping up with your blog - totally forgot about it actually. Just got on to read a few, and loved this one. :) Touching story - really proud of you for being Jesus' hands that day!
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