I was watching a movie today about a military doctor who was assigned a patient with severe dental and lip injuries, as the result of an automobile accident.
This surgeon took extraordinary measures to assist his patient, and spent multiplied hours planning the initial and subsequent operations. Never in his surgical career had he felt such empathy for a patient. Never in his life had he devoted such caring effort, or taken his responsibility so much to heart.
And though the young woman was gruesome to behold, and though her injuries were the worst he’d ever witnessed, he painstakingly went about his task. And throughout the months and years to come he assumed a duel role; that of physician and prophet. For he could virtually see the finished work before him. He could see the invisible, as though it were visible. And this energized him during periods of his own disappointment, and his patient’s disbelief.
The young woman often lashed out at him, wavering between despondency, anxiety, discouragement and rage. Sometimes his patient’s immaturity surprised the doctor, and he could only shake his head. But nothing deterred him from his task, and over many months and years, he performed surgery after surgery, and with each operation his dream became increasingly tangible. And with each operation his young client seemed increasingly confident about the ultimate result.
The surgeon was doing the kind of breakthrough, innovative work that had never been attempted, and his associates and friends were often skeptical of the final outcome. More than once someone accused the doctor of ‘playing God.’ And though their remarks were critical by implication, the physician chose to regard them as complimentary.
And what of the young lady, the recipient of all his skill and labor? Her facial deformities became less obvious, less hideous to those who beheld her. And with time the results of her unfortunate accident were almost imperceptible; until all that remained was a slight scar on one edge of her recreated lips.
And her joy, and the corresponding joy of her surgeon overflowed, and seemed to fill up the world around them. She was whole again. Her shame was vanquished. She no longer hid her face from approaching strangers, and her newfound smile seemed to light up the world around her.
It occurs to me that the young lady’s surgeon had so thoroughly grasped the fictional ‘Jane Eyre’s’ message in the novel by the same title, and rendered it prophetic.
“Your wounds are sad to behold, but you are not your wounds.”
Ultimately, the woman determined to give back something of what she had received, and she began to impact one here, and bless one there. And, readers, I may have neglected to tell you, before her injury our little heroine had been a nurse. Thus, she returned to her duties with more vigor and more enthusiasm than she’d ever felt. For having once been a patient, she could empathize far beyond anything theoretical. Dream had taken on reality. Fog had taken on flesh.
I’ve been thinking a lot about that ‘playing God’ allusion, and at first glance, it’s a repugnant characterization, since there’s One God, (and I’m not Him). But that old adage, “Some people have to have a God with flesh on” rings true. Why, just today, I received a call from an anxious client, an individual who has left her childhood faith behind, and who disavows any further use for God. Nevertheless, I ministered to her. And I like to think that she was comforted, and sensed a bit of God in me.
We have been given a rare opportunity; an opportunity to, as it were, play both prophet and God, and I say this will all due respect, and submission to the only One and True God.
There are those in our midst who will never excel, nor attempt to do so. There are those in our company who will be content to squander their God-given hopes and dreams. There are those who will make the cemetery richer; for the local cemetery is among the richest pieces of ground on earth. Since it is filled with all the unexplored, un-attempted and unfulfilled dreams of thousands of God’s creations; lying dormant. Never to find fruition.
My message to you is to look for that one; that one person among many who displays the kind of unexplored, just under the surface potential to be singular, to be great, to be used of our Lord. Look for that man or woman who can be shaped, molded, impacted. Look for that one who, though sick, or sad or selfish has a pliable and contrite spirit, and who is marginally, and increasingly ready to assume their God-given place on the earth.
Inscribed on the Statue of Liberty is a verse:
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teaming short. Send these, the homeless tempest tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.” (Emma Lazarus)
Our mission is to people like this. The tired, the poor, the huddled masses, the wretched refuse, the homeless. And we have a lamp to light their pathways. And we offer them a golden door; a door which leads to freedom.
But many will refuse our comfort, and many will drift away. But if we can touch just one at a time. If we can make a difference in one life at a time. We may not be able to change the world, but we may be able to change the world of one person.
Pour your efforts into all; everyone who seeks help, who pleads for deliverance. Do this. Do this.
But look for that one; that one who seems to provoke you to do a little more. That one who not only needs a bit more attention, but who, by words or action, places themselves in your hands, and bids you mold them into something lovely. Look for that one. Give your best efforts to that one.
For you are both a physician and a prophet. So reminiscent of that doctor who bestowed his best labor on the little lady; to whom I have previously alluded. God bids you pour healing suave in their wounds. He will give you dreams in the night on their behalf, and provoke you to see the invisible and impossible. You are truly both a physician and a prophet.
Someone, a very dear someone, once looked intently at me and said, “You must have seen something in me.” To which I responded, “Indeed, I did!” Another precious someone once mused, “You almost sent me away,” and I responded, “I’m so glad I didn’t.”
Who can know how God may choose to multiply our efforts through these precious souls who wait for us to touch, impact, impress and invest in them?
Look for that One, that One who seems to provoke you to do a little more. That One who not only needs a little more attention, but who, by words or action, places themselves in your hands and begs you to mold them into something beautiful.
Look for that One.
by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending
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