My medical rotation this month has been with the sobering, yet eye-opening Child Protection Team at Spectrum Health. The doctor whom I have been working with is a specialist in child abuse cases. We see about 4 patients a day as each interview and physical exam lasts up to 2 hours. I have heard many heart-breaking stories and my naivety is definitely being eroded away - as unpleasant as it may be. Now, there are a great many things that I could share having spent a month listening to stories of neglect and abuse, but I felt the Lord say something to me with regard to the legal side of things.
See, the doctor I'm working with spends a good chuck of time in court as an expert witness testifying on behalf of the children she sees. Through my conversations with her, I have been a bit more educated in the legal aspects of such things. There are many "traps" that lawyers try to lay to discredit a witness or prove that they are not impartial. For example, the doc asked me, "Do you consider yourself a child advocate?" Perhaps the easy and natural response is, "Yeah, of course." However, if you say that in court, now you're no longer "impartial" and your testimony is invalid - the court would now assume that you don't care about truth or justice, just that the kid gets his way. Those who have learned how to play in this verbal "chess match" would see that they actually need to qualify their statements and be very specific (yet not too specific). A more appropriate response would be, "Insofar as I am a medical health care provider, it is within the expectations of my vocation that I would help to identify and remove those things and circumstances which cause harm to my patients, and add such things as would bring them health and safety." (I imagine a lawyer could even punch a hole in that, but you get the idea.)
Anyway, my revelation came while I was driving and thinking about this legal game. I began to think about prayer and I felt the Lord say, "You don't receive because you do not ask." I was like, "what does that have to do with law and lawyers?" The response I felt was that the Lord actually wants us to be praying and asking for the outrageous - not just because He loves to give us good gifts, but for legal purposes as well!
See, as heirs to the King we have a legal position to ask things from the Lord. When satan "appeals" and tries to convince the Lord to withhold from us, the Lord refers to the prayers of His children which have become a legal document_ Therefore, the more we ask for, the more legal right we have to receive and satan cannot appeal against the Lord's goodness. We actually secure our blessings and the changes in our times by the prayers and petitions that we submit to the Lord. Our prayers are valid, legally accepted "documents" in the courts of Heaven!
Now, I'm really not sure if that is all 100% biblically sound; it might not be. It was just an idea that came to me while I was thinking about our own court systems. I feel that it has motivated me to pray more and with more faith. I hope that it does for you as well.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Heavenly Literacy
There are many human languages - English, Spanish, French, and all the rest. There are languages of a different sort, as well: the Languages of Heaven and hell. And just as our common languages can be communicated both by speech and by writing, so can the spiritual languages. The Lord is both writing on us and speaking over us. Unfortunately, most of us are completely oblivious to these languages. We do not perceive the words, so we do not learn to understand. The Lord used a man this week to show me His language - the unread, unperceived story that He writes into every precious life. His stories are riveting and powerful, and they are true. This week the Lord took a man who could not communicate in the natural to show me what He was writing in the spiritual.
Multiple Sclerosis is a disease that affects a person's nervous system. It slowly eats away at the physical wiring of a person's body. As time progresses, the person becomes more and more paralyzed. They are unable to perform any purposeful movements. In the end stages of the disease, they are often completely dependent on others to survive - they cannot eat, go to the bathroom, wash or change themselves. Often they require assistance even in breathing.
This week in the hospital, the first patient assigned to me had this disease. He had been in the hospital a dozen times in the last couple months for numerous lung infections and medical problems that he could not fight because of the MS. I admit that I was a bit scared to go in to visit with him. I looked into his room and saw a middle-aged man lying in a bed, unable to move, with his left arm contracted against his chest. He had an O2 mask placed over his neck which was blowing oxygen into his tracheostomy tube. Coming out of his belly was some sort of artificial umbilical cord - a PEG tube that was used to feed him since he could no longer swallow. Another yellow tube ran from under the sheets into a bag on the side of the bed - a catheter which drained his bladder since he was unable to control his urinary muscles anymore. There were other assorted tubes and monitors around. He had tubes to his blood, his bladder, his stomach and lungs, but the hardest thing for me to see was his eyes. He was just staring. He was like a zombie just staring at the wall. His eyes were slightly deviated - the muscles no longer able to keep his eyes straight. They seemed empty.
I was scared to go in. What was I going to do? I had not really been confronted with this sort of condition before - at least not to this degree. I suppose I simply convinced myself that I had a job to do, and so I went in.
I called his name, not sure if he could hear me. I put my hand on his knee and introduced myself - just hoping that he could understand me. It's a strange thing to talk with someone who can make no replies or efforts to communicate back. It gets uncomfortable really fast. I silently prayed in tongues over him as I listened to his lungs which were obviously filled with mucous which he was unable to cough up. (Even listening to someone's lungs feels invasive and intrusive when your patient doesn't give you consent. But, "I had a job to do," right?)
Torn between wanting to stay and endure my discomfort for the sake of growing and knowing that it could all end if I just left - I hesitated, staring out the window, still trying to offer silent comfort to him with my hand on his swaddled knee. But I felt helpless. Ironic, isn't it?
I visited this gentleman the next 2 days. Each day was the same. I wasn't sure if I was growing more comfortable around him, or if I was becoming more calloused - rejecting my own helplessness. I found myself fighting the urge to say those words which I'm sure he has heard a million times: "I wish there was something more I could do (for you)." I knew in my heart that those words would be poison to him and that they were NOT from the Lord. (Gosh, would that be like saying to a blind person, "I wish I could see this sunset more clearly." But the urge was there. There's something about our insatiable need to be able to "do something" that gives us a pseudo-sense that we have value. ...Interesting considering this man was the epitome of "unable to do something." If I were to speak those words, I knew that I would be implying that this man had absolutely no value at all - and that is NOT the Lord.)
I was on-call at the hospital Wednesday night. It was pretty slow, so I was lying on the couch in the call room. I was thinking and praying about this man. I thought of him lying in his bed just two floors above me. I thought of him staring at the wall - hour after hour. Unable to move or communicate. Just existing. "Lord! I don't understand! What are you telling me through him? what are you saying to him? Lord, yes, what are you saying to him? What would you have me say to him for you? What is your word?" Almost immediately I felt the Lord say,
"Tell him that all that he is doing is more than enough for my love."
I feel like I need to pause for a moment and let that ring in my mind.
Goodness, it is no secret that helplessness and loss of independence is one of our greatest fears - it's the number one fear of elderly people - and so I knew that this man - only in his mid 50s, had endured this fear in perhaps the most terrifying way. And yet, that was the target of the Lord's word to him: "all that you are doing (essentially nothing) is more than enough for me to love you."
I felt this urge in me to go up to his room. The Lord reminded me of the vision He gave me a long time ago: I saw myself in a hospital room praying over a patient who was peacefully sleeping. I realized that that vision is soon to come to pass. I felt he wanted me to go to this man and tell him this word. I was afraid though. I was afraid to say those words that would probably be more powerful than anything he had experienced in his years of enduring this disease.
Today, as I have been praying about him - the Lord showed me a bit more. In my mind I saw this man lying there motionless in his bed. I saw what looked like words written in some foreign language scrolling over his sheets and paralyzed body. It was as if a transparency projector was projecting a scrolling story over this man. I could not read the language. I then noticed something else. Lying over his sheets there was a letter. It was handwritten and signed by Jesus. I knew that it was a translation of the story that was written all over this man in the language of the spirit. Though it was addressed to this man, Jesus had translated story for me and anyone who wanted to be able to read this man's story. This is essentially what it said:
"My Son, you're fine. All that you are able to do right now is enough. I am impressed with you because I love you. You are pleasing to me because I made you and I delight in you. You are my gift of mercy to everyone who has cared for you. You are a greater blessing that you can imagine. And all that you do is more than enough to do what I've asked you to do."
As I read the note, I knew it was true. It is true of that man and it is true of you and me. The Lord had given us this man as a gift. He is actually a spiritual picture of us. He is the Lord's mercy and it is written all over him. What he has endured has been our blessing. His helplessness offends us - it offends our minds. It forces us - if we are willing to look on him - to consider how strong we think we are. If we endure it - if we push through the pain of seeing ourselves in that man - the Lord will open our eyes to see his handwritten note that says that even when we are completely paralyzed, even if we cannot help ourselves or anyone else, even then - all that we do is more than enough for the Lord to love us.
Lastly, I really hope and pray that the Lord teaches me to regularly and easily notice the scrolling language of heaven written all over my patients (and anyone, for that matter). I want to be able to understand it and then be willing to boldly read it aloud for everyone to hear. We need to know the truth of who we are and what the Lord is saying about us - it is more valuable than we can imagine.
Lord, teach us your language.
Multiple Sclerosis is a disease that affects a person's nervous system. It slowly eats away at the physical wiring of a person's body. As time progresses, the person becomes more and more paralyzed. They are unable to perform any purposeful movements. In the end stages of the disease, they are often completely dependent on others to survive - they cannot eat, go to the bathroom, wash or change themselves. Often they require assistance even in breathing.
This week in the hospital, the first patient assigned to me had this disease. He had been in the hospital a dozen times in the last couple months for numerous lung infections and medical problems that he could not fight because of the MS. I admit that I was a bit scared to go in to visit with him. I looked into his room and saw a middle-aged man lying in a bed, unable to move, with his left arm contracted against his chest. He had an O2 mask placed over his neck which was blowing oxygen into his tracheostomy tube. Coming out of his belly was some sort of artificial umbilical cord - a PEG tube that was used to feed him since he could no longer swallow. Another yellow tube ran from under the sheets into a bag on the side of the bed - a catheter which drained his bladder since he was unable to control his urinary muscles anymore. There were other assorted tubes and monitors around. He had tubes to his blood, his bladder, his stomach and lungs, but the hardest thing for me to see was his eyes. He was just staring. He was like a zombie just staring at the wall. His eyes were slightly deviated - the muscles no longer able to keep his eyes straight. They seemed empty.
I was scared to go in. What was I going to do? I had not really been confronted with this sort of condition before - at least not to this degree. I suppose I simply convinced myself that I had a job to do, and so I went in.
I called his name, not sure if he could hear me. I put my hand on his knee and introduced myself - just hoping that he could understand me. It's a strange thing to talk with someone who can make no replies or efforts to communicate back. It gets uncomfortable really fast. I silently prayed in tongues over him as I listened to his lungs which were obviously filled with mucous which he was unable to cough up. (Even listening to someone's lungs feels invasive and intrusive when your patient doesn't give you consent. But, "I had a job to do," right?)
Torn between wanting to stay and endure my discomfort for the sake of growing and knowing that it could all end if I just left - I hesitated, staring out the window, still trying to offer silent comfort to him with my hand on his swaddled knee. But I felt helpless. Ironic, isn't it?
I visited this gentleman the next 2 days. Each day was the same. I wasn't sure if I was growing more comfortable around him, or if I was becoming more calloused - rejecting my own helplessness. I found myself fighting the urge to say those words which I'm sure he has heard a million times: "I wish there was something more I could do (for you)." I knew in my heart that those words would be poison to him and that they were NOT from the Lord. (Gosh, would that be like saying to a blind person, "I wish I could see this sunset more clearly." But the urge was there. There's something about our insatiable need to be able to "do something" that gives us a pseudo-sense that we have value. ...Interesting considering this man was the epitome of "unable to do something." If I were to speak those words, I knew that I would be implying that this man had absolutely no value at all - and that is NOT the Lord.)
I was on-call at the hospital Wednesday night. It was pretty slow, so I was lying on the couch in the call room. I was thinking and praying about this man. I thought of him lying in his bed just two floors above me. I thought of him staring at the wall - hour after hour. Unable to move or communicate. Just existing. "Lord! I don't understand! What are you telling me through him? what are you saying to him? Lord, yes, what are you saying to him? What would you have me say to him for you? What is your word?" Almost immediately I felt the Lord say,
"Tell him that all that he is doing is more than enough for my love."
I feel like I need to pause for a moment and let that ring in my mind.
Goodness, it is no secret that helplessness and loss of independence is one of our greatest fears - it's the number one fear of elderly people - and so I knew that this man - only in his mid 50s, had endured this fear in perhaps the most terrifying way. And yet, that was the target of the Lord's word to him: "all that you are doing (essentially nothing) is more than enough for me to love you."
I felt this urge in me to go up to his room. The Lord reminded me of the vision He gave me a long time ago: I saw myself in a hospital room praying over a patient who was peacefully sleeping. I realized that that vision is soon to come to pass. I felt he wanted me to go to this man and tell him this word. I was afraid though. I was afraid to say those words that would probably be more powerful than anything he had experienced in his years of enduring this disease.
Today, as I have been praying about him - the Lord showed me a bit more. In my mind I saw this man lying there motionless in his bed. I saw what looked like words written in some foreign language scrolling over his sheets and paralyzed body. It was as if a transparency projector was projecting a scrolling story over this man. I could not read the language. I then noticed something else. Lying over his sheets there was a letter. It was handwritten and signed by Jesus. I knew that it was a translation of the story that was written all over this man in the language of the spirit. Though it was addressed to this man, Jesus had translated story for me and anyone who wanted to be able to read this man's story. This is essentially what it said:
"My Son, you're fine. All that you are able to do right now is enough. I am impressed with you because I love you. You are pleasing to me because I made you and I delight in you. You are my gift of mercy to everyone who has cared for you. You are a greater blessing that you can imagine. And all that you do is more than enough to do what I've asked you to do."
As I read the note, I knew it was true. It is true of that man and it is true of you and me. The Lord had given us this man as a gift. He is actually a spiritual picture of us. He is the Lord's mercy and it is written all over him. What he has endured has been our blessing. His helplessness offends us - it offends our minds. It forces us - if we are willing to look on him - to consider how strong we think we are. If we endure it - if we push through the pain of seeing ourselves in that man - the Lord will open our eyes to see his handwritten note that says that even when we are completely paralyzed, even if we cannot help ourselves or anyone else, even then - all that we do is more than enough for the Lord to love us.
Lastly, I really hope and pray that the Lord teaches me to regularly and easily notice the scrolling language of heaven written all over my patients (and anyone, for that matter). I want to be able to understand it and then be willing to boldly read it aloud for everyone to hear. We need to know the truth of who we are and what the Lord is saying about us - it is more valuable than we can imagine.
Lord, teach us your language.
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