On the Air

"Dr. Duh, the program will be starting in a few minutes.  I'll need to have you sit right here while I tape the microphone wire behind your necktie...just like that...."

A member of the Kaiser Permanente media department was busy getting me ready for a live educational video conference for nurses, in which I was invited to give a two-hour presentation on various pediatric gastroenterology topics.  I arrived at the company's recording studio in Pasadena, California, about half an hour early, and barely swallowed a granola bar and some bottled water before I was called to get wired up.

"Great.  During the presentation you'll need to look toward the direction of the main camera over here, and your Powerpoint slides will be shown on this monitor.  This other monitor will show your face as viewed from the camera.  We'll be switching between the camera and the slides during your talk...."

I sat in front of the camera for the next several minutes, trying my best to not disturb the staff as they made their final preparations.  I looked through my notes, checked my box of gadgets (mostly samples of gastrostomy tubes and other tube-feeding supplies), and during the final minutes looked at the camera, made a couple of silly faces, playfully pulled out a silicone gastrostomy tube out of the box and pretended to stick it down my nostrils, just to kill time.  As we started to count down to air time, I settled down as the camera turned toward the director of staff education, who introduced the program and provided my biographical information.  As soon as she finished, my face popped on the screen on cue, and the show was on.

It was a bit awkward at first doing my schtick in a quiet room with the cameras rolling, knowing that I was simultaneously being watched by hundreds of nurses throughout Southern California.  However, I thought the talk went well as I waxed poetic on various subjects digestive and pediatric for over an hour, followed by a very energetic question and answer session with participation from several hospitals.  I finished my part of the program seemingly unscathed, and thoughts soon turned to lunch and figuring out how to make it back to work in the afternoon on time.

During hospital rounds the following day, several of the nurses came to me and congratulated me on the stellar performance.  "Dr. Duh, that was such a good talk, and you were SO funny!  By the way, what were you doing making those faces and sticking that thing in your nose?  I bet you didn't realize that you were already on the air at that time!"

Oops.  At least I wasn't being indecent....

It's funny how we tend to let our guards down and behave differently when we believe that we are not being watched.  However, as audiovisual recording technologies become more advanced, numerous celebrities and those who are in positions of influence have been brought to shame by secret recordings of them saying and doing things that are not meant for public consumption.  Their reputations have been seriously tarnished.

"Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are."  Coach John Wooden


The distinction between character and reputation disappears if we realize that God sees us at all times and knows all of our thoughts, desires and actions.  Hiding from God is futile, as Jonah experienced at sea:

But Jonah ran away from the LORD and headed for Tarshish.  He went down to Joppa, where he found a ship bound for that port.  After paying the fare, he went aboard and sailed for Tarshish to flee from the LORD.

Then the LORD sent a great wind on the sea, and such a violent storm arose that the ship threatened to break up.  All the sailors were afraid and each cried out to his own god.  And they threw the cargo into the sea to lighten the ship.


But Jonah had gone below deck, where he lay down and fell into a deep sleep.  (Jonah 1:3-5)

Jonah acted as if he could elude God.  The truth was that God could see Jonah more clearly than we can see a goldfish in a bowl of water.  May we always behave as if God is watching...because He is.

Lane Markers

I recently checked off "survive a summer weekend in the desert" off my bucket list.  No, I don't actually keep a bucket list, but if I had, I would check it off to make sure that I don't do it again.  Due to "interesting" circumstances, I had the distinct experience of spending a summer weekend with my family at Indian Wells, near Palm Springs.  The weather was quite ideal for making raisins, sun-dried tomatoes and jerky, as the air was bone dry, reached about 95 degrees Farenheit by breakfast, and between 105-110 degrees by noon.  The only way to really enjoy the experience there was either to stay within air-conditioned confines or to get out early in the morning.  I got out shortly after 5 a.m., jogged a few miles, showered, walked over to the resort swimming pool, and was delighted to find that pool hours were from 6 a.m. to 10 p.m.  I never swam outdoors that early in the morning before, but a morning swim just after sunrise sounded wonderful.

I was the first person in the water around 7 a.m., while a couple of resort employees were still cleaning the pool area.  It had been nearly two weeks since my last swim, so I started out by swimming across the width of the pool just to get accustomed to the water.  Everything seemed fine except that my right shoulder kept  making clunking sounds when I pulled my right arm out of the water.  Nothing serious, I thought, as I often had this problem, and it usually would go away after a few laps.  I sized up the pool, determined that it was about 25 meters long, waded to one end, aimed straight ahead, put my head into the water, and pushed off the wall, paddling the crawl stroke at a slow pace, turning my head to the side every third stroke to breathe.  Stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke, breathe...whoa!  I approached the wall way sooner than expected and almost collided into it.  Was I faster than I thought, or was the pool that short?  I realized that it was neither after I looked around, and saw that I somehow veered sharply off-course to the left, and actually ended up on the short side of the pool.  Embarrassed but relieved that I was still the only one in the pool, and that the pool cleaning crew seemed to be minding their business and not watching me (I'm sure they were trained to keep their giggles in check), I got back into position, and tried it again, this time trying to pay attention to landmarks above the water when I turned my head to breathe.  Still not much luck after several tries, but at least I managed to make it from one end of the pool to the other, not in straight lines, but zigzagging and cutting long diagonals.  Strangely, I never had trouble swimming in relatively straight lines at the gym pool, and often would even share my lane with other swimmers without any collision.  The difference was that each lane in the gym pool was marked by a dark blue line on the bottom, so that I was able to swim in the right direction as long as I followed the line.  There were no such lines in the resort pool, and I never learned how look forward above the water when swimming.

Two more guests entered the pool about half an hour into my newfound swimming incompetence, and I now was even more careful to make sure that I didn't veer off too wildly and get in others' ways.  I stayed close to one edge of the pool, but despite strenuous efforts to stay on one side, I found myself drifting toward the center and getting close to a middle aged man who was effortlessly darting back and forth in the water.  I corrected my position, looked to the left to make sure that I was increasing distance from the other swimmer, and then, WHACK, I collided obliquely against the side wall, and ended up with some bleeding and a swollen forehead.  I suspected that someone actually saw me.

Just as I could not swim straight in an unmarked pool, it is also impossible to walk rightly in our daily journeys through life without proper guidance.  We get our sense of direction and orientation from our conscience, from God's word, and from others who have a better sense of direction than us.  Unfortunately, some of us are so utterly dependent on the directions of others, that they failed to hone their own ability to maintain proper spiritual orientation.  As a Biblical example, Joash became king of Judah at the age of seven, and he reigned for forty years, mostly under the tutelage and counseling of Jehoiada the high priest.

"Joash did what was right in the eyes of the LORD all the years of Jehoiada the priest."  (2 Chronicles 24:2)

Unfortunately, after Jehoiada died at a ripe age of a hundred and thirty years, Joash's wicked side emerged, as he and the officials of Judah abandoned the temple of the LORD, promoted idol worship, and murdered Jehoiada's son Zechariah, who succeeded his father's position as high priest.

Similarly, when the Israelites first entered the promised land, it was written that:

"Israel served the LORD throughout the lifetime of Joshua and of the elders who outlived him and who had experienced everything the LORD had done for Israel."  (Joshua 24:31)

However, within a few generations, it was written:

"In those days Israel had no king; everyone did as he saw fit."  (Judges 17:6)

May we be diligent to use all available resources to sharpen our sense of direction in life, and may we not fail to impart such discernment upon our children and all others who seem content to rely on us alone for guidance.

Names and Titles

I have been called and greeted in many ways.  Total strangers who try to get my attention may yell towards me, "Hey, you with the glasses!" or "Yo, the man wearing the green shirt!".  When I first started high school, some of the boys in my PE class used to call me "Joe Cool" because I was really quiet and didn't show much emotion.  Occasionally, those with a more racist bent might scream bunches of Asian sounding gibberish, something like "ching-chong-ding-dong-chow-mein-konichiwa-hahahahaha" while they sped by me in their trucks.  They usually didn't seem too friendly, and I really didn't understand a word that was said.  Perhaps they spoke in a different dialect.

Most people addressed me with greater courtesy after I became a physician, particularly when I am on a medical campus attired in my usual work garb of shirt, tie and dress pants.  Strangers now call me "Doctor" even if I do not display identification or wear a white coat, and hospital personnel refer to me as "Dr. Duh".  Most even manage to pronounce my last name correctly (for the record, it sounds like "doo" and not "dah"...seems appropriate for a pediatric gastroenterologist).  I even started to introduce myself to patients and their family members as Dr. Duh, or Dr. Duh the Poop Doctor (the latter if I know that the patient is suffering from constipation).  Baristas at Starbucks call me "Sir", and salespeople who want my money sometimes call me "Boss".  Must be the gray hair.

I recently started to teach Sunday school at my church for the first time in many years, and was charged with teaching all the eighth graders.  Since many of the youngsters did not know me well, they asked how I expected to be addressed.  I had to think about it for a while...it wouldn't be appropriate for them to call me "Dude", "Hey", "Doctor" or "Chris Duh's dad".  Eventually, most of them called me "Uncle Glenn", which suited me just fine.

How we address others, whether directly or indirectly, says a lot about our impressions or knowledge of them, as well as our relationships with them.  When Jesus walked on earth, the Pharisees and teachers of the law often addressed him in person as "Teacher" (e.g., Matthew 8:19, Matthew 12:38) or "Rabbi" (John 3:2), but amongst themselves often referred to him disrespectfully as "this fellow" (e.g., Matthew 9:3, Luke 5:21).  Those who were in distress and seeking healing called Jesus "Lord" (e.g., Matthew 8:2, Matthew 15:21), and Jesus' disciples and close friends also called him "Lord" (e.g., John 21:15).

When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?”
They replied, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”
“But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?”
Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”  (Matthew 16:13-16)

Who is Jesus to us?  Is he a teacher, a good man, a fictional figure, or is he "the Messiah, the Son of the living God", the Lord and Savior of our lives?

Check the Facts

I drowsily greeted the 6-West nurses at Children's Hospital Los Angeles while pulling out my list of patients that I was supposed to see during morning rounds.  I was in my last year of pediatric gastroenterology training, and was charged with making sure that all the patients on the list with various digestive concerns were receiving proper care.  After seeing several youngsters with various intestinal issues, I stopped in front of the room of a 4 year old Armenian boy who recently had a liver transplant, and scanned through the nursing documentation.  I noted that he had a mild fever the night before, and that the recent laboratory results suggested a mild acute rejection episode.  As I continued to review the records, I checked his fluid intake, urine output, and diet, and saw that he ate only half of his scrambled eggs, one small pancake, one bite of sausage...and a cup of coffee.  Coffee for a 4 year old boy?  A kid who just had a liver transplant?  I couldn't believe what I saw.  Most parents wouldn't give children coffee...I mean, wouldn't it like, stunt children's growth?

I entered the room, greeted the little boy and his mother, washed my hands, and as I examined the child, I checked with the mother to make sure that the documentation of coffee intake was accurate.  The mother smiled, replied that her son normally would drink some coffee (but not too much) every morning, and that in the Armenian community this is a culturally acceptable practice.  I finished the examination, and after discussing the day's plan for the child, thanked the mother for the cultural eye-opener, but was still a bit incredulous as I continued on my rounds.

Over the years, I have encountered other parents who intentionally gave young children coffee to drink, either to improve their attention spans or as a laxative, but I no longer regarded this as an oddity.  What about this thing about coffee causing stunted growth?  I eventually checked out the facts many years later, and confirmed my suspicions that it is simply a commonly accepted myth or old wives' tale.

We often accept as the gospel truth certain widespread claims that are simply incorrect and unsubstantiated, because if enough people say that they are true, that they must be true.  For example, nearly everyone heard the statement of "fact" that each person needs to drink 8 glasses of water a day.  It turns out that this is not true.  Among the Chinese, it is believed that eating crabs and persimmons together is lethal.  My mother, my wife and all my relatives believe this with all their hearts.  As I tried to check out the facts, I came across several recipes for crab and persimmon salad (with beautiful photographs of the finished products).  I don't think that the concoctions are meant to be weapons of mass destruction, but I'm not quite sure whether I should prepare it for our next family gathering.

Similarly, many who claim to be Christians have ingrained doctrine and beliefs of the nature of God that are not accurate.  They hear about these from their family, friends, books, movies, rock stars, famous actresses and talk show hosts, and with sufficient exposure these beliefs become accepted without question.  The 1st Century Jews of Berea were notable exceptions:

Now the Berean Jews were of more noble character than those in Thessalonica, for they received the message with great eagerness and examined the Scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true.  (Acts 17:11)

We need to check the facts.  Now, there's this other one about death caused by eating shrimps with oranges....

Collision Course

June 28, 2011.  I could have died that day.

Riding my bicycle to work a couple of times a week seemed to be a good idea.  15 miles one way on the bike meant 2 hours of exercise for the round trip, and with fuel prices on the rise, the thought of reducing gasoline consumption was also attractive.  Those were my thoughts as I pedaled to work that fateful morning.  I arrived in good spirits, on time, and spent a relatively uneventful day at work.  I had no idea what lay ahead as I left the office in the late afternoon.

My normal bike ride home from work starts with a mile-long stretch of highway with heavy, rush hour traffic, followed by about 9 miles of a fairly well-maintained bike path along the San Gabriel River, and is capped by 5 miles of heavy street traffic that includes two major freeway crossings.  Riding in traffic seems daunting, but I trusted that most of the motorists know the rules of the road and are fully capable of not colliding into me, provided that I don't make sudden moves.  The bike path, on the other hand, can at times be utterly hazardous.  While I have full confidence in the experienced cyclists who are decked out in aerodynamic Spandex and expensive-looking road bikes, I am ever wary of runners, walkers, and the more "recreational" riders who meander the paths at slower paces.  They seem to weave and occupy the entire bike lane, oblivious that they are sharing the path with cyclists who may be riding at speeds in excess of 20 miles per hour.  After about one mile on the path, I saw before me a young girl who was riding without a helmet in her junior-sized bike, weaving around without holding the handlebars.  I slowed down to make sure that I could pass safely, and from 30 feet out hollered, "Bike passing to your left!"

She didn't hear me.  I shouted again, and slowed down to a near stop to avoid colliding into her.  Startled, the girl swerved and turned her bike right into my path.  A collision was inevitable.  As it turned out, we were in a particularly hazardous portion of the path, where one edge of the path drops abruptly off into a steep riverbed embankment.  If I turned to stay clear of the precipice, I would have plowed the little girl down toward the riverbed.  The girl screamed.

I turned the other way, tumbled off the bike, and slid several feet down the rough concrete wall on my left arm and leg, with the bike hanging on to my right foot.  My Blackberry phone flew out of my holster, and by the time it rested face-down on the concrete, the entire face of the phone appeared as if it was extruded from a grinder.  Large patches of skin on my left arm and leg suffered a similar fate and resembled second-degree burns.  The girl, totally unharmed but shaken, called out sheepishly to see if I was all right.  Her mother stood beside her, appearing concerned but helpless, and asked whether I spoke Spanish, because she does not understand English.  I stood up and picked up my damaged bike after determining that I only suffered bad abrasions, washed the wounds with my water bottle, and gave the girl a serious lecture about bike safety and the need to wear a helmet.  I had fleeting thoughts of obtaining the family's contact information in order to possibly collect damages for medical expenses and replacement for my phone, but decided to dismiss them instead.  The day did not seem to be ending well.

I talked to God during my long, painful ride home.  I asked why He allowed my life to temporarily flash before my eyes as I was heading down the steep embankment.  I asked why He caused to me experience so much physical pain.  I asked why He would allow my wife to see my wounds later in the evening and perhaps literally ban me from riding my bike to work again.  However, God did not allow me to dwell on such thought forever, and I soon began to give Him thanks for sparing my life, for preserving me from fractures, and for still being able to ride my bike home, bloodied and all.  I also thanked Him for having the opportunity to speak with the girl about bike safety, and that this may potentially help save many lives someday.  Finally, I acknowledged that God is giving me a couple of days off my intense exercise regimen so that I can regain balance in my life.  My only regret was that I failed to explicitly share with the girl and her mother about God's love.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.  (Romans 8:28)

I just hope that my wife won't object to me riding my bike again next week.

Fully Grown

I love watching living things grow. I am fascinated by how beans sprout after being soaked in water. I get excited watching tadpoles growing legs and turning into frogs. I can spend hours watching silkworms methodically gnawing mulberry leaves and growing fatter each day, until they spin cocoons and eventually emerge as moths. Nowadays, as a pediatric specialist, I spend my working hours seeing newborn babies become toddlers, toddlers reach kindergarten age (and getting their shots), and grade school kids becoming teens over the years. As my patients reach the ripe old age of 18, I congratulate them for reaching the threshold of maturity, inquire of their future plans, and refer them, if necessary, to other doctors who will continue to provide them medical care during their adult years. Such send-off moments are often full of hope and excitement, as these youngsters look forward to college, work and whatever lies ahead. Becoming an adult seems like a good thing.

Unfortunately, some of my teen patients reach their 18^th birthdays as alcoholics or drug addicts. Many have already been sexually active, and a few have precociously experienced pregnancy, abortion, parenthood, statutory rape and sexually transmitted diseases. Virtually all have already been exposed to pornography, and porn addiction likely is commonplace. Their paths toward maturation seem to have taken wrong turns, and much darkness is in their future.

Ironically, while we recognize a certain ideal of the adult person, i.e., one who is strong, knowledgeable, capable, loyal, loving, faithful, disciplined, respected and wise, the word “adult” often is used to describe something that is irreparably degenerate in nature. “Adults” are allowed to purchase tobacco and liquor. Adults are permitted to view movies that titillates with sounds and images of violence, filthy language, and sexual immorality. “Adult” books, magazines, toys and content celebrate extramarital and grotesque sex as something that is normal and commonplace. Children who are inadvertently exposed to adult content are grossed out and disturbed by it, as it shatters their ideal of what adults are like. Eventually, many grow up to become what they saw.

Science textbooks often contain diagrams of animal life cycles. For the lion, they would have drawings of a newborn lion, cubs in various stages of maturation, and a stately, beautiful adult lion in all its glory at the pinnacle. It would be unusual for the adult lion to appear diseased or wounded in the picture. I wonder how the diagram would look like for humans if someone from another world came and observed us. Would the “normal” adult be overweight, prone to addiction, violent, unfaithful and deceitful? Our growth and development in this world often parallels the descriptions in James:

“...but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when full-grown, gives birth to death.”

James 1:14-15

May we grow rightly by God's grace, and reach a different kind of maturity.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”

Galatians 5:22-23

Tastes Like Chicken

How do you describe something that you just tasted for the first time? A coffee critic may characterize a certain blend with words like “fruity”, “smoky”, “acidic”, “mellow”, “intense”, or “burnt”, and an experienced coffee drinker can more or less mentally imagine the flavor. On the other hand, “tastes like chicken” is a pretty safe answer when describing different kinds of meat. How does turkey taste? Tastes like chicken. What about rattlesnake? Tastes like chicken. Frog leg? Tastes like chicken. Alligator? Tastes like chicken. Tofu? Tastes like chicken...not.

I recently asked my eighth grade Sunday school class to image describing tofu to someone who has never tasted it before. All of them were of Asian descent, and were quite familiar with this common soy product. Their answers were quite entertaining:

“Tofu is really soft and white, like a marshmallow, but it doesn't taste like it.”

“It doesn't have much taste.”

“It's like soybean-flavored jelly.”

“It tastes like tofu....”

“It's soft and squishy like a custard, but it tastes different....”

By the end of the discussion, it was quite obvious that no one could quite come up with an adequate description of the texture and taste of tofu; however, nearly everyone agreed that one must taste tofu to know what tofu tastes like.

We run into the same problem when we try to describe God. Although God created the universe and is wholly responsible for our very existence, He is so different from anything in the world that He defies description. In fact, God specifically prohibits in the Ten Commandments the making of “graven images” that may be used as representations of Himself, as any such image would be imperfect, inferior, and impotent compared to the Almighty.

Nevertheless, God also wants His people to have knowledge of Himself, and the Bible gives us sketches of God by using things and experiences that are familiar to us. We ought to pray to “Our Father in heaven”. Jesus appeared on earth in human form. The Holy Spirit is characterized as wind, water, fire, and even as a dove alighting on Jesus. Yet, these images and metaphors provide but a small foretaste of the wonderful experience and knowledge of God that will be revealed to us fully after we complete our earthly journey.

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. (1 Corinthians 13:12)

It will be way better than chicken.