Thanksgiving

A week ago, we got a sudden snowfall of three inches of snow.  Vince's school was cancelled completely, although Anna's was on time.

The children were pretty thrilled by the snow.  That evening, both Anna and Vince prayed:  "Thank you, thank you, thank you for the snow!"

Of course, we live in Indiana and three days later temperatures were up to fifty degrees and all of the snow was melting.  Then, both Anna and Vince prayed:  "Thank you, thank you, thank you that the snow is melting!"

As it says in Job, "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."

I am not totally certain why so many people fixate on the weather.  We can't change it, most of us don't depend on it for our livelihood, and yet, it is something that we talk about an awful lot.

Certainly, we can see God's faithfulness in the changing of the seasons, just as we see it in the rising of the sun and the rotations of the planets.  And this is what I am grateful for -- not a little fall of snow, or its melting -- but a great God who loves and cares for the smallest details of this Universe and who is faithful in its administration.

This Thanksgiving I am grateful for many things, but most of all, I am thankful that Jesus loves me.

Pessimistic

Margaret was a born pessimist.  Not that I knew here when she was born.  She was probably about 78 years of age, when I first met her.

One day she came in to see me with a slightly happier look on her perpetually gloomy countenance.  "Dr. Waldron," she said.  "Something good almost happened to me last week."

"What was that?"  I asked her.

"Well, my son, Charlie, took me down to the pharmacy to get my prescriptions filled the other day and while we were down there, I didn't know it, but he put my name in a drawing to win a free scooter."

"Oh," I said.

"Yes," said Margaret.  "You can probably guess already.  I was pretty shocked when the man from the pharmacy called to say that I'd won that scooter.  I thought they must have called the wrong Margaret, but he assured me that no, they had the right person.  Well, I was pretty pleased for a little while -- till they got it out to my place and saw how big it was."

"Dr. Waldron, I just don't know what I'm going to do with it.  It's just way too big for me!"

Margaret was just one of those blessed folks who believes there can't be a silver lining without a dark cloud somewhere near.  That where there is smoke, there's sure to be a fire -- and likely a burning house with children in it.

Such an attitude is depressing to be around and it can be contagious.

Of course, the difference is all in perspective.  There wasn't any real down side to her scooter -- it was free.  She could use it a little or a lot, it didn't matter.

I am afraid that I can have a pretty similar view of the world, depending on the day.  It seems unreasonable to turn from pessimism to optimism, for optimists are often wrong.  Bad things do happen and even the most optimistic person can get beaten down in this world.  Instead of optimism, I need joy.

For, joy bubbles forth from a heart that knows that God is good and that everything happens in accordance with His plan. In that joy and gratefulness even the darkest parts of life can be appreciated and the good things are enjoyed far more.

I would live in joy today.

Red Delicious?

Red Delicious.  By all accounts, based on the name, these should be the best or, almost the best apples.  They just aren't the best, by any means.

The first Red Delicious apple tree was grown on a farm near Peru, Iowa in 1880.  People liked it immediately and recognized it as a good eating apple.  It has been grown ever since.

I don't mind Red Delicious apples, in fact, I quite like them.  Except for one thing.  Many of them are hypocrites.

On the outside, they appear firm and beautifully red in color, but when you bite into them, you find a soft apple that lost its flavor awhile ago.  Beauty may be only skin deep, but with apples, it is the flavor and the texture that are important, not the color of the peeling.

There are far too many people who claim to be Christians who do not have the "taste" of Christians to others.  Everyone knows what a Christian is supposed to be, what he is supposed to do, and how he should act.  They are pretty quick to notice and point out inconsistencies.

There is little worse, to one who does not know Christ, then to see someone who claims to be a Christian act in a way that is not Christ-like.  I have heard so many people say things like:  "I would never be a Christian.  My brother claims to be one and he's the biggest hypocrite you ever saw!"

It is my responsibility to live as a true disciple of Christ.  It must not, cannot be just a surface change.  It will only be real if my heart is changed.

Red Delicious apples are all too often Mealie Masqueraders.  I would be like a Fuji or, a Gala apple, where what is on the surface goes to the core.  Love, kindness -- the sweetness of Christ permeating my life and leading others to Him.

Is Spelling Important?

"Beatle starts with 'B!'"  Elliot said emphatically.  He is learning some of his letters and beginning sounds.

"What does Vince start with?"  I asked him.

"Bince starts with 'B!'"  Elliot said.

Elliot reminds me of Spanish speakers in Central America.  For them, the letters B and V are the same sound.  Why a word like "bienvenidos" is spelled with a B and V rather than two Bs is a mystery to them.

Spelling in English is really tough.  You have weird rules like "i before e," that have a multitude of exceptions.  There are strange silent letters like p in "pneumonia" and k in "knight."  There are words that are spelled differently, but pronounced the same, like faux and foe.  There are even words that are spelled the same and pronounced differently like Polish and polish. 

I have found that it is easier to spell words correctly, if you can say them correctly. At least sometimes.

I know that many people believe that spelling is unimportant and that with the advent of computers and spell checkers and weird abbreviations like ROFL, you can get by quite in this world without learning how to spell.

Maybe they are right.  Maybe I am a throwback to the twentieth century, but I must confess that I believe a certain knowledge of spelling is important.  There are many things that separate most of us from the animals, beyond the ability to grunt "yes" in reply to the question "Do you want pancakes for breakfast?"  One of the most important of these is that we can pick up a pen, place it to paper and communicate -- without a spell checker and without electricity -- and that is a very cool thing, indeed.

Going to Heaven

Elliot at lunch time one day said:  "We're going to be with Jesus."

We were taken aback for a second, not sure where the statement came from.  Elaine said,  "Yes, Elliot, we will go to heaven some day."

Elliot's lower lip quivered.  "I don't want to go to be with Jesus!"  He said emphatically.

It turned out that Anna had been instructing Vince and Elliot on their futures.  Elliot had misunderstood and thought that he was going to heaven that afternoon.

Of course, people talk about heaven a lot and the fact that they want to go there when they die, but I think for most of them, they hope that day is a long ways off.  I suppose most of us want to go to heaven, we just don't want to have to die to get there.

And yet, if heaven is so much better than anything we can experience here on earth, wouldn't we want to go there?

Perhaps the biggest problem is that death seems so unknown.  We trust the seen, known life we live in the now rather than the unknown life in the here-after.

I don't know a whole lot about heaven.  It sounds pretty good in the Bible, but I imagine there's a lot of things left out in the descriptions there.  At the same time, my confidence isn't in a place with streets of gold, it is in a Heavenly Father who has never failed me.

While I don't know much about heaven, any place He is preparing for me has got to be pretty awesome.

Stained Hands

As I look at my fingernail beds today, they are dark and they have been that way since a couple of Saturdays ago.  Of course, my daughter Anna's fingers look worse than mine.

On Saturday, she and I peeled the hulls off of many black walnuts.  They still aren't cracked (that's a fun activity for another day), but they are ready to be.  Walnut juice stains really deeply.  Even after multiple scrubbings, the stain remains.

Last Monday, Anna's teacher even made her go wash her hands, because they looked so dirty.  I guess at least it's clean dirt...

I think of the verse from Psalms "Who shall ascend the hill of the LORD?  And who shall stand in His holy place?  He who has clean hands and a pure heart..."  This verse speaks of clean hands, but one can have filthy, walnut stained hands and still have clean hands before God.

The verse is clearly speaking of sin stains.  These are stains that go far deeper than even the subcutaneous layers.  These are stains that go to the heart.

There is a tendency to think that the remedy for sin is good deeds.  We just need to do more good than bad and that will clean the dirtied hands.  The only problem is that it doesn't work.  Sin stains are a lot more tenacious than even black walnut juice.

In the end, the only thing that will wash away these stains is the blood Jesus Christ.  For only the power in His blood can make my hands clean and heart pure before Him.

Catching Ebola

I read last week a survey of Americans that showed that they are moderately scared of getting Ebola, but that they have a lot of confidence that if they would contract the virus, they would be treated effectively.  In my opinion, that's a little backward -- I am not worried about catching Ebola, but would be pretty concerned if I actually contracted it.  But at least people aren't afraid of everything.

I suppose that's good, as it prevents panic in the streets (although not on Facebook).  Truthfully, for the tiny number of patients with Ebola Virus, who were treated in this country, the survival rate is pretty good -- far better than it is in the African nations dealing with the virus.

In the end, even in the United States, there is no "cure" for Ebola.  Infectious disease specialists have used HIV drugs, ZMAPP, and plasma infusions from Ebola survivors, but they cannot say for certain which of these things was, or will be effective.

I am afraid that modern medicine is too good at seeming like it has answers, even if it doesn't actually know very much.  The fact that we are doing "something," even if it is likely ineffective, gives people the illusion of control.

Much of life and health is actually beyond the control of humans -- even doctors who are specialists.  That is fine, because there are a lot bigger hands than ours in charge of this world.

I'm afraid that God has to bring us to the point where everything is spinning out of control, just so that we will give the control we never really had to Him.  For, when we are in God's hands, the wisest One in the Universe is in control of our destiny.  And even in the middle of an Ebola epidemic, that is a very safe place to be.

Making the Right Diagnosis

"The history is the most important thing!"

I still remember those words, spoken by one of my attending physicians in medical school.  An encounter with a patient is broken up into three parts.  The history, or what the patient tells the provider, the physical examination, and review of testing (labs/xrays).

Many believe that the physician should be like Sherlock Holmes, carefully inspecting the finger nail beds of their patients, looking at their tongues, and the soles of their feet.  Then, finally after a period of silence intone the fateful diagnosis:  "You, sir, have Tsutsugamushi Disease!"

It isn't that way.  I know about my patients from what they tell me and the key for me is listening.  Studies show that many doctors interrupt their patients within thirty seconds of them beginning to speak.  Doctors feel that they are "on the clock" and need to come to a conclusion quickly, so they can move on to the next patient. 

I feel these same time constraints.  Still, I have learned that if I let my patients tell the story in their own words, my patient tell me what I need to know in order to come to a conclusion and it really doesn't take that much time.

It isn't just about listening to patients either.  There are many people whose voices contribute to good care.  Nurses, techs, and medical assistants all tell me many things that I wouldn't know otherwise -- things that perhaps the patients wouldn't tell me, but share with them.  It may not even be symptoms, but other things, such as reasons why they aren't taking their medications or, family situations that are impacting their health.

I am just not smart enough to figure out every diagnosis without some help.  Even more, I can't always get a person the treatment that is best for them without understanding, not only their illness, but also, who they are.

It isn't easy to listen.  More often than not, when a person is speaking, doctors are figuring out what to say next or, the next question to ask.

In the end, listening isn't about me, it is about the person in the chair across from me, the nurse at the desk, or the patient in the bed.  As I listen, I will not only identify what my patient's illness is, I will learn who they are and understanding who someone is is sometimes one of the most important things to helping them find healing.

Lying to Your Doctor

A man diagnosed with Ebola Virus is under treatment in Dallas, Texas.  Two days before he was admitted to the hospital, he was seen in the Emergency Department with fever and abdominal pain.

Now, due to HIPPA, we are unlikely to know exactly what transpired during this visit, but it seems that the patient mentioned to the nursing staff that he was visiting from Liberia, but did not make further mention of it.  It is particularly clear that this Liberian gentleman did not emphasize to the physician that he was from Liberia or, that he had recently had close contact with a woman who died from Ebola.

I don't totally understand the rationale for not sharing this information.  I would have mentioned this several times just to be sure that the medical staff included it in the possible diagnoses, but maybe that's just me.

"Excuse me, Dr. Smith, but about a week ago I watched a lady die from Ebola.  I just thought I'd mention that."

I am always amazed by people who choose to lie to their doctor or, at the least, fudge the truth. 

I remember a woman with diabetes who brought in her sugar log books.  Carefully noted in the columns were various sugars, all between 90 and 140.  A couple of slightly elevated sugars -- 176 and 182 -- were noted with little notes:  "Ate at Golden Corral," or "Aunt Nellie's Birthday Cake."

"Looks good, Lynn," I said.

"Can I get you to cut down on my insulin dosage?"  She asked me quickly.

"Let's see what your A1C showed," I said.  I clicked on it and paused.  "Oh my, Lynn," I said.  "Your A1C test is 14.1."

"What does that mean?"  She asked.

"It means that your average sugar over the last three months has been a little over 360."

"Oh," she said and was quiet.

The whole log book was a complete fabrication.  There was no reason for Lynn to lie to me.  Even if I had no way of checking her average sugar, lying about it wouldn't change the fact that it was totally and completely out of control.  Lying about it wouldn't change the effects that the high sugar was having every day on her eyes, kidneys, and nerve endings.

Lying to your doctor doesn't hurt your doctor at all.  It just hurts you.

In the end, I am afraid that there far too many people who don't just lie to their doctors.  Many people deceive themselves and try to deceive their Maker too.  Of course, it never works, because no amount of lies can change the heart's condition.

In the end, honesty is not just the best policy, it is the only way to begin the path that leads to physical and spiritual healing.

A Three Year Old's Sense of Time

I was taking Elliot to the bathroom.  He apparently had other things on his busy schedule and didn't want any part of it.

"Just sit for a little while," I told him, encouragingly.

"I don't need to poop, Dad," he said emphatically.

"No?"

"No, Dad," he said.  "I pooped last year!"

Now, Elliot is correct in his statement, although whether or not he remembers the particular event is debatable.  Even more debatable is whether or not he has any concept of how long a year is or, when last year actually was.

As I look at his three year old sense of time, I think about how much different my sense of time is from his.  Yet, even though I know when next week is and when last week was, I am far removed from God's perception of time.

I think of this, in particular, concerning God fulfilling his promises.  "But do not overlook this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years and a thousand years as one day.  The Lord is not slow to fulfill His promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance."  (II Peter 3:8,9)

If God promises us something, He will fulfill it -- in His perfect time and way.  It is just that I usually don't perceive time the way He does.

There are time that I wish God would hurry up a little, but I never need to worry.  For, whether it is last year, this year, or next year, God will be right where He always is -- right on time.

Vaccines

"Oh, one thing more," the elderly lady sitting across from me said.

Now, I must confess that I have learned to dread the "one more thing" questions that seem to come at the end of office visits.  The questions may be short, but so often they are anything but easy to answer.

"What's that?"  I asked.

"Could I get a tetanus shot today?"  Mildred asked.

I relaxed a little.  "Sure," I said, wondering a little.  There aren't many 89 year old women who are particularly concerned about keeping their tetanus shot up to date.

Mildred, it seemed, could read my mind.  "You are wondering why I am concerned about getting my tetanus shot.  Well, young man, I will tell you.  My aunt died of tetanus.  It was long before they had the vaccine and there was nothing to do but watch her die.  It was terrible way to die."

I have never seen a case of tetanus, never had a patient die from lock jaw.  I have only read about it in pathology textbooks and so, for me, it isn't real.  For Mildred, it was.

These days, there is a lot of fear of vaccines.  Anecdotes abound of the terrible things that vaccines have caused.  Some of these things are real, some just happenstance, but I am afraid that the biggest issue is that vaccines are too successful.  People are no longer afraid of the diseases that the vaccines are designed to prevent.

When the polio vaccines were first created by Jonas Salk and Albert Sabin, people did not question their safety.  Everyone knew a child who walked with a limp or, a teenager who had died in an iron lung from it.  Polio was far scarier than the vaccine that prevented it.

Even now, if you set up a clinic in West Africa and offered to vaccinate people with a completely untested vaccine against Ebola Virus, you would have a line a mile long at your door.  It isn't because people want a shot, it is because they are desperately afraid of a deadly illness without a cure.

The internet is an awfully effective magnifier of fear and anxiety.  Yet, I am afraid that all too often it creates fear in the wrong things.

The diseases of yesterday can and will return, without the effective vaccines of today.

Small Miracles

There is a need within this world,

  Let it be said, for God, for His presence,
For His greatness and smallness, touching here
  And filling all things with His triune essence;
For a simple sense of something greater,
  Able to work mighty deeds of wonder
And reach down through the wind and rain
  To spark the lightning and peal the thunder.

Small Miracles.

Ordinary, every day, run-of-the-mill miracles
  Things we see in nature every day,
Created with an awe-inspiring beauty
  To fulfill a divine plan and way.
Yet, these little things are easily explained
  By equations of physics and mathematics
And in a burst of logic faith is lost,
  Thrown into the domain of mere fanatics.

The deepest needs remain unfilled.
  Science finds more questions for every answer
And for every treated acute bronchitis,
  It seems to find an uncured cancer.
Science's miracles have limits here --
  Limits set by the human mind,
Which cannot fathom the smallest things
  Which divine fingers once designed.

So, even in this world of science,
  There is still a desperate need
For someone to touch within hurt lives
  To heal the scars, to staunch each bleed…
A need for something more that cannot,
  Will not be fit into the small space
That science still allows for God –
  There is still a need for God, in this place.

Joel Osteen

Joel Osteen is really popular right now -- with just about everyone (except a few folks on facebook).  I suppose it isn't surprising.  He is relentlessly upbeat.  He doesn't talk about negative things a whole lot.  He is someone who does his best to offend no one and please the masses.  He is a politician as well as a pastor.

I'm not a theologian, but it seems that Joel Osteen is in favor of people living with abundance, being happy, and doing good.  He doesn't like to talk about sin, because he prefers to dwell on the positive things.

He believes that God wants us to be happy and who could be upset with someone who is in favor of general happiness?

The problem with the whole situation is that he has forgotten how to speak truth.  Pastors have a responsibility to speak truth, even when it is painful.

When I see my patients, I always attempt to identify good things in their lives.  If they have lost a couple of pounds, if their cholesterol is two points better, I commend them.

I think it is just as important for me to share their problem areas with them.  If all of my patients walk away happy and satisfied with themselves, believing they are paragons of health, they may like me, but I have been a failure.

In the same way, pastors have a responsibility to identify the moral decay in the world around us and in their congregations and expose it.

Somehow, in a world that desires happiness and abundance, they must bring a suffering Savior front and center.

The message of the cross is clear.  Christ came and died for sinners, of whom I am chief.  Jesus came to bring joy within the storm.  He came to give us the strength to suffer.  He came so that we could walk in pain and rise above it.

This world needs a real Savior who speaks to us in our sorrow, not a glib pastor who wall papers over it with feel-good statements of happiness.

There is power in the cross.  There is power in truth.  For those will choose them.