Six Things I Learned from a Visit with the Doctor

1.  Needles aren't as bad as I work them up to be.  Every time I know I'm going to have a needle prick I get a little nervous about it...and every time I realize that needles aren't anything to worry about.

2. People are interesting.  I do not remember the last time I saw this doctor, and I certainly didn't recall his personality.  He entered the room with a loud, "Fancy meeting you here!" - like I had ever met him anywhere else.  In the next few minutes, I learned that he grew up with missionary parents in India, and that he followed his brother's footsteps by choosing the medical field.  I was surprised that I went for a simple, to-the-point physical and was receiving a riveting, far-from-to-the-point story of an interesting life.

3. Life is unpredictable.  The doctor told me that three of his friends died in the last year, two unexpectedly.  I suppose in the medical field he sees more of death and dying than most of us, but we all see some of it.

4. Wherever you are, be all there.  Okay, so I first heard this from Jim Elliot, but I think our family doctor would agree.  "Mom wanted me to be a preacher," he said.  "I did not want to be a preacher."  But he did not leave his faith out of his work.  Shrugging his shoulders as he sat in his office, he explained, "I preach here a lot."

5. Your deepest influence may not be what you once thought.  I imagine he realizes that he sometimes impacts patients like me.  He probably knows he has an influence on children who are scared of his office or adults who are scared of major life changes.  But as he began his medical career all those years ago, I doubt the doctor thought about what an influence he might have on those who work for him.  After he left the room, I mentioned to the doctor's medical assistant that the doctor seemed like a neat boss.  Without any hesitation, she agreed: "Oh, the best."

6. Ordinary can be extraordinary.  It certainly was an interesting doctor visit.  I wonder how many "ordinary" people have led such full lives and have so much to tell those of us who are still trying to decide how to fill our lives.  Maybe the doctor will write some of his hard-earned wisdom down for us sometime.  It is possible - "I may write a book one day," he told me.  Meanwhile, he did offer one piece of advice:

"Just live each day with joy and grace."

Image courtesy of photostock / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

A Hero Is...

Have you ever thought about your heroes?  Who they are, why you chose them, what it is about them that you find heroic?  There's no question that we have them.  But why do we choose them?

What makes a hero a hero?

Recently my family and I spent an afternoon with my grandmother, a couple of aunts and uncles, and several cousins.  Due to the miles between us, it is rare for so many of us to be in one place, and we all jumped at the chance to catch up on each other's lives.  At one point, my aunt shared a story from her work as a chaplain in a children's hospital.

There was a little girl in my aunt's wing of the hospital.  "A precious baby," my aunt said.  She was there because her father shook her "until her brain turned to jello."  The baby's foster parents had two adult biological children, two adopted tweens, and this little girl was their thirty-sixth foster child.  "She knew she was taking her in to die," my aunt said of the foster mom and the baby.  "She was giving her a place to die."

The week we were visiting, the little girl's health had declined, and a meeting was held with the doctors, biological mother, and foster mother.  The child's biological mother was obviously struggling with the painful situation.  As hard as it was, she made the best - and most difficult - decision for her child's care, and then broke down.  The baby's foster mother, no doubt struggling with the situation as well, went over to the baby's birthmom and hugged her.  "You will always be her mother, no matter what," she told her.

Sometimes the heroes we choose have epic stories.  Just think of Captain America, Batman, or Superman.  Even when we choose actual people as heroes, we tend to exalt those like Gabby Douglas, Amelia Earhart, or George Washington.  People we have never met (and never will).  People who have performed amazing deeds, accomplished incredible feats, changed the world.  Their unforgettable stories stick with us, lodging in our minds and coming back to us even years later.  Are these people inspiring?  Yes.  Should we know about their lives and contributions to the world?  Sure.  But does a hero always have to be larger-than-life?  Could a hero be someone...normal?

"A hero is someone who excels in what we prize," I recently heard someone explain.  Remember that, I told myself.  It sounded profound.

"A hero is someone who excels in what we prize."

We pick our heroes because of what we want our lives to look like.  Whether our hero is Captain America, George Washington, or LarryBoy, we look to these figures for inspiration or even guidance as we go about our lives.  We think that, as we look to our heroes, we will somehow become better individuals.  Who we choose as heroes says a lot about who we are - and who we are becoming.

My aunt ended her story as she told how the foster mother loved the baby and the biological mother - reaching out to both in their time of need.  "I have a new hero, I guess," she finished quietly.

It is a story my aunt will always remember.  I know I will, too.  Heroes are usually hard to forget.

image credits:  Captain America  George Washington  Gabby Douglas 

Could I? Would I?

In 1947, Corrie ten Boom, a survivor of the German concentration camp Ravensbruck, spoke before a German audience about the forgiveness of God.  In her book, Tramp for the Lord, she tells of a man who came forward to speak with her after her talk.

"[T]he man who was making his way forward had been a guard - one of the most cruel guards.

   Now he was in front of me, hand thrust out: 'A fine message, Fraulein!  How good it is to know that, as you say, all our sins are at the bottom of the sea!'

   And I, who had spoken so glibly of forgiveness, fumbled in my pocketbook rather than take that hand...

   I was face to face with one of my captors, and my blood seemed to freeze.

   'You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk,' he was saying.  'I was a guard there.'  No, he did not remember me.

   'But since that time,' he went on, 'I have become a Christian.  I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well.  Fraulein,' - again the hand came out - 'will you forgive me?'

   And I stood there - I whose sins had again and again been forgiven - and could not forgive."

I know I have already mentioned  The Hiding Place and how much I love the testimony of the ten Boom family.  Their story is riveting, and it is sobering to think of the difficulties they faced and the faith they showed even in the midst of such dark times.

The WWII era witnessed unthinkable crimes, and Corrie ten Boom personally experienced merciless cruelty.  She had friends and family members who were killed for doing right, and saw firsthand brutality and inhumanity we cannot imagine.  In Ravensbruck, Corrie watched her sister wither away until one day she, too, was gone.

It is one thing to read about forgiveness, learn about forgiveness, and believe wholeheartedly that forgiveness is a vital characteristic of the Christian walk.  It is another thing to actually live it out.

What if I was faced with forgiving the atrocities Corrie experienced?  I find it hard to forgive even "little things": inconsiderate actions, petty disagreements, unkind words.  If I struggle with forgiving minor inconveniences, what if I was asked to forgive such grievous crimes?

Could I?  Would I?

For months, Corrie endured the difficulties of life as a prisoner in Nazi concentration camps, suffering daily alongside her sister, Betsie.  Throughout her time in captivity, Corrie drew encouragement from her sister's faith - and forgiveness.

“‘Betsie!’ I wailed, ‘how long will it take?’

‘Perhaps a long, long time.  Perhaps many years.  But what better way could there be to spend our lives?’

I turned to stare at her.  ‘Whatever are you talking about?’

‘These young women.  That girl back at the bunkers.  Corrie, if people can be taught to hate, they can be taught to love!  We must find the way, you and I, no matter how long it takes...’

She went on, almost forgetting in her excitement to keep her voice to a whisper, while I slowly took in the fact that she was talking about our guards.  I glanced at the matron seated at the desk ahead of us.  I saw a gray uniform and a visored hat; Betsie saw a wounded human being.

And I wondered, not for the first time, what sort of a person she was, this sister of mine...what kind of road she followed while I trudged beside her on the all-too-solid earth" (The Hiding Place).

In Matthew 18, Jesus tells of a servant who owed his master an amount he could never repay - possibly about 200,000 years' worth of wages.  As the master prepared to sell the man's possessions and family to make a dent in his debt, the servant begged for patience, and he would pay it all back.  The master knew that was not possible.  Instead of patience, he granted mercy to the man, erasing his debt.  What an incredible gift!  Then the servant left the master's presence and found a fellow servant who owed him one hundred days' wages - obviously a much smaller sum.  Instead of passing on the forgiveness he had just been granted, he began to threaten the fellow servant, impatiently and unmercifully demanding instant payment.



The story, we know, was a parable.  But it was a true story.  The scenario is repeated every day as we who have been forgiven incurable iniquities walk around griping and groaning over the lesser offenses others commit against us.  Even when we are faced with truly horrific wrongs, as Corrie ten Boom and her family were, we know that what has been done to us could never compare with what we have done to Him.

While He was still on the cross, still suffering unimaginable torture and the ridicule of those whose sin He bore, Jesus Christ forgave the greatest crime ever committed.  And He forgives it again every time He welcomes one of us to His kingdom.

As Christians, we serve a God who forgives, and we are called to extend the forgiveness we have freely received.  "...as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive" (Colossians 3:13).

"It could not have been many seconds that he stood there - hand held out - but to me it seemed hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do...And still I stood there with the coldness clutching my heart...Jesus, help me! I prayed silently.  I can lift my hand.  I can do that much.  You supply the feeling.

   And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust my hand into the one stretched out to me.  And as I did, an incredible thing took place.  The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands.  And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.

'I forgive you, brother!' I cried.  'With all my heart.'

   For a long moment we grasped each other's hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God's love so intensely as I did then.  But even so, I realized it was not my love.  I had tried, and did not have the power.  It was the power of the Holy Spirit as recorded in Romans 5:5: '...because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us'" (Tramp for the Lord).

Could I?  Would I?

No.  I couldn't.  The strength to forgive wrongdoing - whether it is a minor or a seemingly unforgivable act - is not something I find inside myself.  Every time I am faced with forgiving the wrong of another, I know I cannot do it alone.  Just as Corrie ten Boom could never have done it on her own.

The One who formed me, even though He sees and knows and is grieved by all of my sin, even though it cost Him an unimaginable price, can give His forgiveness to me.  And I can pass it on.

Image courtesy of chanpipat / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Insignificant?

It has been awhile since I read an entire book in a single day.  When I first cracked the cover of Corrie ten Boom's The Hiding Place late yesterday afternoon, I didn't think I would finish that night.  But I did, eight minutes before "last night" became "this morning."  I was familiar with the ten Boom story - I think I read a short biography of her once - but I had never read The Hiding Place.  Wow!  I was blown away by her account of faith, love, peace, and forgiveness during one of the darkest times of modern history.  In her book, she traced God's work in her life from her childhood all the way through to the end of the war, and it is a beautiful story. So many aspects of her story have been imprinted on my mind, but I was surprised at how much one insignificant little sentence stood out to me.

A few chapters into the book, Corrie describes their daily routine at the clockmaker's shop there in Holland, aptly summarizing it this way: "And so was established the pattern our lives were to follow for over twenty years."

Twenty years!  They kept that same pattern for twenty years?!  Day in.  Day out.  The family members all had their assigned tasks and responsibilities that they fulfilled each and every day.  They even took their daily walk at the same time each day - on the same route!

They were so content to live that way - no "next big thing" or exciting "change of pace."  They were faithful in the little things (daily walks) and the big: the ten Boom family took in eleven children over the years who needed a home.

Throughout The Hiding Place, through all the stories and anecdotes Corrie ten Boom shares of her childhood as well as her adult years, the ten Boom family was known as a loving, welcoming family.  No matter someone's social standing, problems, or needs, they were welcomed with open arms.  Always.  Even if they had nothing to offer in return.  Even if they were a "competitor," such as the watchmaker down the street.

For so long they had kept the same routine.  For so long they had done things "normally," even, perhaps, somewhat monotonously.  There was nothing significant or incredible about their daily lives, except that they spent each day in faithful service to God and love toward others.

As the black clouds of World War II spread over Holland and the life that they had known for decades began to change drastically, the ten Booms rose to the challenge.  No more daily walks on the same route.  No more simple clockmaker life.  "This was evil's hour," Corrie wrote, adding that "we could not run away from it."  And they didn't.  Even though their entire way of life was completely changed, they faced each new day just as they always had.

Before the War, they had lived in faithful service to God and love toward others.

During the War, they lived in faithful service to God and love toward others.

That's it.  In a way, everything changed.  In a way, nothing did.  The ten Booms still sought to please God in every area of life.  They still kept their hearts and home open to anyone in need.  They still sacrificed their own comfort, ease - now even their safety - for the sake of others.

I'm not saying it was easy, or that they never struggled with the new challenges they faced.  Somehow, some way, those twenty years must have prepared them for this.  Interesting, isn't it?  Even though their circumstances changed so drastically, their attitude before God seemed to be the same as it had been before.  Faithful service and love.

The ten Booms' daily, ordinary, almost-monotonous, seemingly-insignificant life was the setting where God chose to work.  What might He choose to do through ours?

"But this is what the past is for!
Every experience God gives us, every person He puts in our lives is the perfect preparation for a future
that only He can see."

Corrie Ten Boom

Image Credit

A Thrilling Life

If you could meet someone from history, who would it be?  I remember talking about this with a group of young adults recently, and I enjoyed hearing all their different answers!  A few chose people from the Bible (like Esther or David) and some chose historical Americans (George Washington and Abraham Lincoln were popular with this group).

I know exactly who I would choose: Amy Carmichael.  I have always been fascinated by her life.  Set in the exotic backdrop of India, she had an amazing story of rescuing hundreds of children and watching the redemption of their souls occur right before her eyes.  What a thrilling life!

But Amy didn't always see it that way.  She did not move to India to spend time with children.  No, Amy entered India with big plans.  Burdened by the moral darkness of the land, Amy wanted to evangelize the masses that had been in spiritual bondage for so long.  Organizing a small group to go with her, Amy traveled India, spreading the Gospel everywhere she went.

But one by one, little girls in need were brought to Amy's attention and added to the little group.  Traveling evangelism became more and more difficult with little ones afoot, and Amy eventually began arranging for them to be cared for while she went on evangelistic excursions.   Gradually, she realized that even this would not work.

Amy believed God called her to India.  She was passionate about the little girls, yes, but felt her purpose in India was to preach.  Eventually she began to understand the Tamil proverb: "Children tie the mother's feet."

And so the days of traveling and boldly preaching the Gospel ended for Amy.  In its place, she began to take up the daily, monotonous tasks that mothers worldwide find monopolizing their days.  Now there were meals that needed cooking, clothes that needed sewing and washing and mending, children who needed tending.  It wasn't glamorous work.  There must have been so many days it did not feel exciting or exotic.

As the family grew - exponentially - these tasks were divided up.  But there was no task Amy would ask others to do if she was not willing to do it herself; she had come to understand the greatness of even these little tasks.  As she later wrote, acknowledging that Tamil proverb, "So we let our feet be tied for the sake of Him whose feet were pierced" (Gold Cord, by Amy Carmichael).

Maybe Amy Carmichael lived in faraway India.  Maybe she had responsibility for hundreds more children than anyone I have ever met.  But Amy was faithful where God called her - even when her ambitious plans did not line up with God's call on her life.

I may never go to India.  I will likely never be responsible for hundreds of children.  But I can choose to be faithful where God has placed me, just like Amy Carmichael chose to submit to God's will for her life.

One day I will meet Amy Carmichael, but not by going back in time.  Amy now lives in the ultimate realization of her hope - with many others.  Children who were born in India with a dismal future, but were rescued.  Children who were literally enslaved, but later set free for the rest of their lives - and eternity.  All because one woman left her plans behind and followed God's leading.  Even when it wasn't very exciting.  Or thrilling.  Or exotic.

Because she chose to let her days be filled with cleaning and cooking and the needs of hundreds of children, Amy was able to see redemption take place in the lives of children (and adults) around her.  There are so many needs even right here where I live.  There are orphans in my city.  There are widows.  There are lonely, hurting, desperate people everywhere.  In our neighborhoods, churches, homeless shelters, crisis pregnancy centers - everywhere we go - we can see redemption in the lives around us.  What a thrilling life!

Image credit: Christianity Today