My heart was recently filled with an overwhelming sense of peace as I drove home from work one evening. In my meditation (with my eyes wide open) I recalled familiar passages from Philippians 4:7 ("And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.") and Colossians 3:15 ("Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace..."), while strains of songs and hymns that referred to these passages resonated between my ears. Filled with joy and inspiration, I thanked God and prayed that I would be an instrument of His peace to the family when I returned home. That sense of quietude and calm was promptly shattered, however, once I entered the house to be greeted by barrages of screaming and yelling between my wife and two children. So much for that peaceful feeling, I thought, as I sucked in a deep breath to face the remaining hours of the day.
Later, I asked God what happened, and he said, "My child, anyone can feel peaceful when things are calm. My peace does not only happen when circumstances are agreeable. You asked for peace that transcends understanding, so I offered it to you. Did you notice that even though the house was filled with noise, that the peace in your heart remained in you?
Thank you, God.
A couple of days later, I prayed for wisdom and discerment while heading to the hospital, readying for a procedure on a premature baby with Down syndrome and congenital heart disease. This baby's heart was too weak for her to suck milk or formula with sufficient strength, and needed to be fed with a tube that was placed into her stomach. She was transferred to my care from another hospital, in order that with the guidance of a tiny endoscope, I could puncture a hole through the skin into the stomach and place a feeding tube with sedation. The procedure can be quite straightforward when everything goes well, and I have performed it well over a hundred times. However, it is also fraught with potential dangers and complications that I know all too well with experience. I continued to pray intermittently while changing into surgical scrubs, while preparing the equipment, and while observing the tiny baby moments before the procedure. The procedure initially went swimmingly well; however, a piece of equipment malfunctioned at a critical point after the stomach was punctured, causing my nurse and me to spend nearly an hour modifying the protocol and improvising to salvage what normally would have been a 10-minute procedure. The baby did well, but only after my nurse and I ended up with sweaty brows and armpits. Afterwards, I remarked that I had been praying about the procedure, and my nurse, a devout Catholic, also said that she did the same. Funny how things turn out sometimes when you pray.
A couple of days later, the baby's mother greeted me between bites of dinner at the hospital cafeteria, thanked me for getting the tube into the baby's stomach, and indicated that the family was almost ready to take her back home once they got the car seat properly fitted and received CPR training. As the mother departed, God whispered in my ear, "Remember how you prayed for wisdom and discernment before the procedure? Well, I knew that the procedure was going to be a challenging case, so I made sure that you remained calm, remained on top of your game and dug deep into the years of experience that I gave you. Well done."
Uh, thanks again, Lord.
Later that same week, I had a follow-up office appointment with Joey (name changed to protect his privacy), a 12-year-old boy, and his mother. I saw Joey for the first time a few months ago when he started to have frequent stomachaches and diarrhea, but laboratory and examination findings were normal, and he did not appear to have any serious medical condition. However, his pain became much more severe over time, and several weeks ago was hospitalized with acute inflammation of the pancreas and liver. Upon further studies, the inflammation appeared to be caused by a congenital problem (a choledochal cyst) that requires surgery. Joey appeared reasonably well during the office visit except that he still needed pain medications, and surgery was scheduled for later that same week. After examining him and answering some questions, I asked Joey whether he was a praying type of person, and when he said yes, I laid my hands and prayed for him, asking for God's mercy and blessings upon him, and for the surgeons to operate with skill, discernment and diligence. Over the next few days I continued to remember Joey in prayer, even well after the day of the procedure.
The pediatric surgeon called me three days after the surgery to update me on Joey's situation. "The procedure was a very difficult one, as there was a lot of inflammation inside. We started with a laparoscopic procedure, but had to open him up eventually...I just reviewed the pathology results, and unfortunately, he has metastatic cancer...." Cancer can grow from choledochal cysts if they are not removed, but to have this happen in a 12-year-old child...who would have thought that this would happen?
News about Joey's situation became even less encouraging over the subsequent days. Cancer appeared to have spread into the stomach, to the point where it had become incurable, and he was no longer able to eat. I prayed for guidance as I picked up the phone to speak with Joey's mother, and after expressing my concern and our collective shock on how things have turned out, said to her,
"Remember that I prayed for Joey in the office before the surgery? That was the first time in several years that I actually did that for a patient. I'm not sure why things happened the way they did, but somehow God moved me to treat Joey differently from my other patients...I don't know what's going to happen...."
Indeed, it had been a few years since I actually prayed for a patient like I did for Joey. It wasn't my nature to do so, but the Holy Spirit moved me to pray, because God knew that Joey, his family, and I will need His strength to walk the journey ahead. He never promises that such journeys are easy, and He does not necessarily grant our requests as if He is a genie, or, in the words of R.C. Sproul, a "celestial bellhop" that caters to our wishes.
"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." (John 16:33)
Later, I asked God what happened, and he said, "My child, anyone can feel peaceful when things are calm. My peace does not only happen when circumstances are agreeable. You asked for peace that transcends understanding, so I offered it to you. Did you notice that even though the house was filled with noise, that the peace in your heart remained in you?
Thank you, God.
A couple of days later, I prayed for wisdom and discerment while heading to the hospital, readying for a procedure on a premature baby with Down syndrome and congenital heart disease. This baby's heart was too weak for her to suck milk or formula with sufficient strength, and needed to be fed with a tube that was placed into her stomach. She was transferred to my care from another hospital, in order that with the guidance of a tiny endoscope, I could puncture a hole through the skin into the stomach and place a feeding tube with sedation. The procedure can be quite straightforward when everything goes well, and I have performed it well over a hundred times. However, it is also fraught with potential dangers and complications that I know all too well with experience. I continued to pray intermittently while changing into surgical scrubs, while preparing the equipment, and while observing the tiny baby moments before the procedure. The procedure initially went swimmingly well; however, a piece of equipment malfunctioned at a critical point after the stomach was punctured, causing my nurse and me to spend nearly an hour modifying the protocol and improvising to salvage what normally would have been a 10-minute procedure. The baby did well, but only after my nurse and I ended up with sweaty brows and armpits. Afterwards, I remarked that I had been praying about the procedure, and my nurse, a devout Catholic, also said that she did the same. Funny how things turn out sometimes when you pray.
A couple of days later, the baby's mother greeted me between bites of dinner at the hospital cafeteria, thanked me for getting the tube into the baby's stomach, and indicated that the family was almost ready to take her back home once they got the car seat properly fitted and received CPR training. As the mother departed, God whispered in my ear, "Remember how you prayed for wisdom and discernment before the procedure? Well, I knew that the procedure was going to be a challenging case, so I made sure that you remained calm, remained on top of your game and dug deep into the years of experience that I gave you. Well done."
Uh, thanks again, Lord.
Later that same week, I had a follow-up office appointment with Joey (name changed to protect his privacy), a 12-year-old boy, and his mother. I saw Joey for the first time a few months ago when he started to have frequent stomachaches and diarrhea, but laboratory and examination findings were normal, and he did not appear to have any serious medical condition. However, his pain became much more severe over time, and several weeks ago was hospitalized with acute inflammation of the pancreas and liver. Upon further studies, the inflammation appeared to be caused by a congenital problem (a choledochal cyst) that requires surgery. Joey appeared reasonably well during the office visit except that he still needed pain medications, and surgery was scheduled for later that same week. After examining him and answering some questions, I asked Joey whether he was a praying type of person, and when he said yes, I laid my hands and prayed for him, asking for God's mercy and blessings upon him, and for the surgeons to operate with skill, discernment and diligence. Over the next few days I continued to remember Joey in prayer, even well after the day of the procedure.
The pediatric surgeon called me three days after the surgery to update me on Joey's situation. "The procedure was a very difficult one, as there was a lot of inflammation inside. We started with a laparoscopic procedure, but had to open him up eventually...I just reviewed the pathology results, and unfortunately, he has metastatic cancer...." Cancer can grow from choledochal cysts if they are not removed, but to have this happen in a 12-year-old child...who would have thought that this would happen?
News about Joey's situation became even less encouraging over the subsequent days. Cancer appeared to have spread into the stomach, to the point where it had become incurable, and he was no longer able to eat. I prayed for guidance as I picked up the phone to speak with Joey's mother, and after expressing my concern and our collective shock on how things have turned out, said to her,
"Remember that I prayed for Joey in the office before the surgery? That was the first time in several years that I actually did that for a patient. I'm not sure why things happened the way they did, but somehow God moved me to treat Joey differently from my other patients...I don't know what's going to happen...."
Indeed, it had been a few years since I actually prayed for a patient like I did for Joey. It wasn't my nature to do so, but the Holy Spirit moved me to pray, because God knew that Joey, his family, and I will need His strength to walk the journey ahead. He never promises that such journeys are easy, and He does not necessarily grant our requests as if He is a genie, or, in the words of R.C. Sproul, a "celestial bellhop" that caters to our wishes.
"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." (John 16:33)
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