Walking the path

(2-minute read)

Last week, the doctors found something wrong with my heart. They scheduled to go in to figure out what was wrong and, if possible, fix it on Friday morning. When doctors enter your body, unexpected things can go wrong, even with simple procedures. Years ago, I was in a doctor’s office for a relatively simple procedure. During it, suddenly, I went into convulsions and passed out. When I awoke, the only other person in the room was a crying nurse.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’ve never seen someone die on the table before,” she replied.

When the doctor came in, he was obviously shaken and seemed almost afraid. He told me he would not be able to treat me further and referred me to a different specialist. I was fine and felt no worse than I expected that I would after the procedure. I had passed out and missed all of the excitement of dying and being brought back. I often think of this event when I go for any medical procedure.

When dealing with the heart, there isn’t much room for error. My wife, Jo, and friend, Dean, were at the hospital to pray with me before the medical staff came for me. When it was my time to pray, only a simple prayer came out,

“Lord, I know you love me.

I trust you.

Your will be done.

In Jesus’ name, amen.”

The Lord spent many years teaching me that he loved me. Even when I was at my most unlovable, he was always there for me. Over the years, I learned to trust the Lord. He was always there for me, even if my theology wasn’t precisely correct. I have struggled to have my own way for almost all my life and wanted God to bless it. I spent many hours listening to preachers talk about how to get things from God. It sounded a lot more spiritual than it actually was. It took a long time for me to see that God’s will for me was better than any plan I could devise on my own. On the morning of the procedure, I wanted God’s will for my life. I wasn’t just submitting to God’s will; I desired it. What was in my heart was even if God’s will contained my death, I wanted God’s will.

Once we prayed, any anxiety about the procedure or what they might find was gone. As you may have guessed, I didn’t die on the table.