Musings from a Doctor's Office

I was at the doctor’s office yesterday. Lately I've been spending a lot of time in different sorts of medical facilities, and while I am incredibly grateful for the purposes they serve, hospitals and doctors’ offices can be kind of depressing. Not because of the people who work there, but because of the people who go there.

Do you ever see someone and wonder what they are living for? For me, yesterday, it wasn’t one person in particular but rather a general moment. This lady near me in the waiting room had crossed paths with another woman who was waiting for her test results, and they started laughing and talking--good, right? But they weren’t talking about normal stuff. It was clear that they knew each other not outside of the doctors’ office, but through it, and they were laughing about some not-very-funny health joke, and they were talking about some chronic problem they both shared. You could tell this was their life. Doctor’s appointments, support groups, keeping up with health: survival.

I always get uncomfortable when people seem happy about their health problems. Not happy in a it’s going to be okay sort of way, but happy in a “I really truly enjoy talking about this stuff” sort of way. What kind of existence is this? I wondered. Sometimes I feel like my life can be taken over with health maintenance and testing and all I know is that if I turned into those two ladies in the waiting room, I think I’d die. I fight for normalcy all I can, but when I focus solely on myself I drown in my own meaninglessness. 

Then I happened to glance over at the receptionist who was a young, attractive girl and I thought, “What makes her life any more meaningful than the lives of these two ladies?”

The answer came in a flash of lightening. Just kidding. I was actually thinking about this a little later, and when I thought about it I almost didn’t finish writing it because it is so simply obvious. Living for ourselves is meaningless. But certain types of emptiness can appear to be more meaningful than other kinds of emptiness. If I have a successful career and a happy family and devoted friends, it may be easy to make my life completely focused on myself while still maintaining an illusion of fulfillment and meaning, because those things are satisfactory. However, when my career plans become uncertain, and my family life is unstable, and I'm sitting in a doctor's office--suddenly, I'm forced to come to terms with the emptiness of my existence.

When my life revolves around me, it is absolutely meaningless, whether the center of my life is health issues or grand successes. It’s just that what you’re living for becomes much more starkly obvious when you’re sitting in a doctor’s office.

So I ask myself: what am I living for? Because the truth is, we’re all just a few steps away from becoming some person in a doctors’ office whose entire life is centered around our own survival.

With this in mind, I set a new goal. To not only live for Christ, but to live for others. Because who knows what I’ll be doing when I’m 30? Or 40. Or 85. As much as I’d love to be doing one handed pull ups and skydiving (or maybe just normal pull ups... I’ll dream realistically here)--there are some things in life I have no control over. If I make my life about myself, I'll be left with nothing if I'm 40 years old and still sitting in a doctor's office. If I'm living for the one who is greater than myself, suddenly it won't matter in twenty years if I am in a doctor's office or at my dream job or on a missions field or buried in the ground. Because no matter where I’m at, my biggest fear in life is meaninglessness. So that I refuse. 

It will get better, or...not?

It had been a rough couple of weeks, but what was keeping me going was the hope that before long, everything would get better. After several more weeks of disappointments alleviated by the positive thought “it will get better!” my optimistic self started having some serious doubts.

Then it hit me.

My hopeful thoughts had no Biblical grounding. Sure, it is nice to think that the bad times won’t last forever because I’m a Christian and I serve a God who cares about me. But what I realized is that I don’t serve a God whose purpose for my life is my happiness. Rather, His desire for me is that I become holy as He is holy. And holiness doesn’t necessarily come about through happiness.

When this thought hit me, I immediately felt God’s perfect and wonderful peace fall on my heart as I willingly surrendered my life to Him and felt no pangs of sorrow as I gave up all my hopes of happiness.

...Yeah right. I actually started feeling depressed. Sure, I want to glorify God, but I also wouldn’t mind having a few less trials. I like the idea of sacrificing my contentment for Him--but it is a lot easier to entertain the thought of giving it all up for Christ in one moment than giving it all up for Christ EVERY moment.

So if God created me as a human being to crave happiness, why doesn’t He give it to me? I wondered, and these questions led me to that classic example of belief-in-God-rewarded-by-suffering: Job.

Job probably knew better than anyone that there is no such thing as easy answers. He was surrounded by “friends” who tried to solve his problems. But there were only a few things Job knew for certain: he had not sinned against God, he was going through hell on earth, and God was real. How to reconcile those truths?

Look, I go forward, but He is not there,

And backward, but I cannot perceive Him;

When He works on the left hand, I cannot behold Him;

When He turns to the right hand, I cannot see Him.

But He knows the way that I take;

When He has tested me, I shall come forth as gold.

(Job 23:8-10)

Not even Job had the answers. “I cannot behold Him... I cannot see Him.” He did not understand. He questions God’s purpose towards him and even God’s goodness. Yet through it all, he never doubts for a moment that God is there.

I like to know why things are happening. It is so much easier to persevere when you understand the purpose. But unfortunately there are times when God does not want us to understand--or perhaps when we are simply incapable of understanding. It’s like a child whose mother keeps pushing him away from the electrical outlet. There is no way to explain to the child why pushing him away and even punishing him is actually an act of love. The poor kid is just left confused and upset. The good thing is, however, that the kid’s mother is big enough to handle her child’s confusion and anger.

So I am done with easy Christian answers that say “everything will get better!” or “just trust God!” Reality does not work that way. Sometimes life sucks. And I think it is okay to recognize that and even to say with Job: "God, I can't see you, I don't understand You, I can't even feel Your goodness. But I will not stop seeking you. I know that You live and I still long to see You. I will choose to trust even when I don't understand.”

I Don't Have Time

I’m taking a class that is going way above my head. So far, I’ve failed every test. I pay attention during class and sometimes my classmates and I get together to talk about the material, but it doesn’t seem to be helping. Every once in a while I’ll do really well on a quiz or a practice test and I get this false sense of hope that I have a grasp on the material. Then the test comes and BAM. F. I’m getting really frustrated.

Our professor has promised all of his students that if we want to do well in his class, we are more than welcome to visit his office and ask questions. He’ll explain the class material to us and help us study for the test. He will even sit down with us during the test and help us work out the problems for as long as it takes... if we ask him.

But you see, even though I am so incredibly frustrated with my failing grade, and even though I will gladly spend hours reviewing course material with my classmates and take furious notes during class, I just have not gotten around to meeting with my professor yet. I know that I should. Sometimes I will have a quick two minute conversation with him in class and I convince myself that that is enough. But deep down I know I should meet with him regularly. It might take some time to understand his way of communicating, and it might be weeks or months before I am able to get my grade up to an A, but surely if I start now it would be absolutely worth it. Right? So what’s my problem?

I don’t have time.

Now for some real life. This semester, it seems that life has hit me with everything it’s got. I’m really struggling. I have so many questions and the answers elude me. All my life I have tried to do what is right even when it is hard. I read my Bible daily. I have deep and meaningful conversations with my friends and with people that I see as spiritually mature. Sometimes I do receive a sense of peace and joy that lasts for a few days. Then something happens and my life gets turned upside down, and suddenly, BAM. I feel like I’m drowning. I’m lost and confused and I don’t know what to do.

Why are you doing this to me, God? I ask. But I don’t ask God. I ask myself. I ask other people. I ask my circumstances. I talk about my problems. I do everything, it seems, except ask God.

God has this policy. He promises that “if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us.” Life is tough and confusing. Sometimes it straight up sucks. I’m a limited human being with a tiny pin-hole perspective, but I have access to the One who created all of this and sees the whole picture and knows me even better than I know myself. Seeking Him out will take time and intentionality, but isn’t it worth it? Why don’t I spend hours asking Him the tough questions that no one else can answer? Why don’t I beg Him to give me direction for my life and show me the next steps that I ought to take?

Why don't I have time?

Hello! My name is... Nevermind.

Introductory paragraphs. Small talk. Get-to-know you games. I have always disliked them. So I’m skipping the obligatory “what this blog is going to be about” and “this is who I am” first post. Small talk has never been my strong suit partly, I believe, because I think actions speak a lot louder than a few pleasantries. That’s what this blog will be. Instead of introducing it with fancy language or impressive metaphors, I'll let the content speak for itself.