BEDSIDE MANNER

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Maybe you haven’t been there, but I’m willing to bet you have.

You’re sick, or have had surgery, or delivered a baby, and you need care. You need gentleness. You need reassurance that it’s all going to be ok.

Some doctors are good at it. Others aren’t. In fact, some are terrible. I had a procedure a few years ago and the doctor said she’d call Erik to tell him how it went as soon as I was in recovery.

She never called.

She didn’t tell us how it went. I was sent home drugged and wondering if it had been a success. It was a minor procedure. Something this doctor does multiple times a week. But for me, it was huge. It was my body. My life. I needed to know all the details, and yet, I got none.

The unknown — combined with the after effects of anesthesia, my body healing, and my sensitive soul — left me in a cloud of despair. I couldn’t shake it.

The pain from the procedure wasn’t that bad, and yet something in me was falling apart. I called to find out how it had gone, and was told, “Fine.” I said I had been extremely emotional and asked if that was normal. The reply I got was, “Well, some people have strange responses to anesthesia.”

That was all.

I was broken, bloody, and felt alone in it. And yet, that’s how all of us are in this world.

Maybe we aren’t literally bleeding every day, but we are broken. There is pain, there is hurt, there is abandonment, rejection, and betrayal.

We don’t merely need procedures and bandages to fix the injuries and sop up the blood. We need someone who will hold our hand while we heal.

We have that. In Jesus.

I forget this far too often. Instead of letting Him hold my hand, I search for someone — or something — else to calm my racing mind. But those brief moments when I am with Him, when I am raw and bare and He is bandaging me tenderly, holding my hand, telling me that I am not alone, those really are the best.

Let’s try to do that more, you and I. Let’s let Jesus be Jesus. Let’s let Him bandage our wounds and clean up the blood, all while holding us and telling us that everything is really, truly going to be ok.

CHICKEN?

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“Are you chicken?” I remember those cutting words from my grade school days. They were always said with a lilt in the voice, a taunting, manipulative question.

There are a lot of things you don’t want to be when you are in 2nd, 3rd, or 4th grade, and chicken is near the top of that list.

Here in Hawaii we have chickens. Lots of chickens. Some are pets and some are used for laying eggs, but most of them just roam the streets. Rag-tag bands of feral chickens can be found in almost every neighborhood.

So the other day, when I came across a chicken and a rooster on my run, I wasn’t shocked. And no, I wasn’t scared either. But, as I got closer, the chicken freaked out. Like royally flipped out. She up and ran.

Now. I’m sorry to say that Ms. Chicken’s timing was terrible. At just that moment, a truck was coming up the street on my right.

I don’t have to tell you the rest. I’ll let you imagine what it sounded like.

Needless to say my entire body flinched and I turned away. But it got me to thinking, in her fear, the chicken went towards something that was more dangerous than what she was afraid of.

I mean, I guess I can be more scary than I realize, but I wasn’t planning to even touch the chicken. I was just going to let her be. Her perception of me was inaccurate, which led to fear, and then unwarranted action that actually caused more harm.

There are things in life we all fear. Cancer. Terrorist attacks. Losing loved ones. And when you are in elementary school the list of things to be afraid of is much longer. It includes monsters, the dark, and your best friend moving away.

But when you dig down deep and look at the roots of your fear—are the things you are afraid of really worth being scared at?

It’s not the fear itself that matters. It’s what you do with it.

Do you get on your knees and cry out to the God of the Universe who is waiting with open arms to listen to every word you say and wipe away every tear you cry?

Or do you pull up your bootstraps, try harder and turn to run from your fear?

When you turn and run, you never know when a truck will come around the corner. But if you take your fears to the One who loves you and created you, you’ll be safe every single time.

So are you chicken? What are you gonna do about it?