Mark Spruill

This week’s challenge was a doctor visit.  It was embarrassing, humiliating, and painful.  I’m a big baby.  It’s no wonder I don’t go often.  Maybe once every year or two, or three.  I go for a general physical check-up about once every decade.  This week was the decade, and after the experience I had, I’m thinking about switching to once per century.

It just seems a little odd to go to a doctor when you are not sick.  I suppose the reason for going is on the off chance that you might be sick and just don’t know it.  Maybe I have high cholesterol.  Maybe I have a heart problem.  Maybe my blood pressure is too high or the blood tests will show the signs of some exotic disease.   After all, why should I be fat and happy until I die when there is a chance they could find something wrong so I can worry myself to the grave?

I haven’t got the results of all my tests back, but I hope the doctor follows my orders.  I told him if I’m dying, don’t tell me.  If I’m not dying, then there’s nothing to tell.  So, either way, I shouldn’t hear from him.  You know, maybe even once per century is starting to sound like one check-up too many.

But when Jesus heard that, he said unto them, They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick.
   – Matthew 9:12

OK, so maybe this scripture is a little out of context, but on a spiritual level, the Great Physician definitely did some surgery on me through this experience.  Ignoring a problem might not be good for the physical condition.  I know it’s not good for a spiritual one.

It’s only been about two weeks since Christmas and signs have already popped up everywhere.  “Christmas sale – Half off!”  “50% off all Christmas items.”  I wonder if that goes for the manger scenes and the Christ child too?  I know a lot of people that would never pay full price, but they are quite happy to buy into half price Christianity.

 Yet another said, “I will follow you, Lord, but first let me say goodbye to my family.” Jesus said to him, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
    -Luke 9:61-62 NET Bible 

Marshall and I met for lunch last week.  We work in opposite directions from home, so we had to work out a plan to meet somewhere halfway between.  We did, and had a wonderful lunch.  Turns out, by just driving about 15 minutes, we could spend the next 45 minutes together.  It was so worth it.

As we sat down with our Chick-fil-A sandwich, Marshall said the prayer, a short prayer, thanking God for the food and places “in the middle” where we could meet to eat together.  It was a simple phrase, but something about it rang true.  Thank God for places in the middle.  Places where we go toward one another and meet.   It reminded me of the McDonalds in Shepardsville, KY.  As we drove home from Ohio this past Thanksgiving, I pointed it out to my adult children.   It took them a minute, but when I reminded them of the meetings there, they smiled.  When Jacque was small and we lived in Nashville, we would meet the grandparents there, eat a hamburger, and hand over a kid for a summer week with Grandma and Grandpa.  It was a place in the middle.

Places in the middle are special.  They are the places where we meet others.  The places where we meet friends and family.  The places where two angry, hurt hearts meet for forgiveness.   The places where people from opposite directions can come together.  Two ends can meet in the middle.   Unless,  one end is God and the other is me.  In that case, He came all the way to a manger in Bethlehem.  He comes all the way, knowing I could never make it even half way to Him.  All I have to do is turn around and He is there.

Tammy was in a small accident this morning.  She was sitting at a stop sign when a young lady in a car bumped into the rear of Tammy’s van.  There was no damage to the van, but the other lady received a small crinkle on her bumper and, according to her, a “ruined day.”  Nobody was hurt.  Nobody lost their driver’s license.  Nobody even got a ticket, but the lady declared her day ruined.  Tammy assured the tearful young lady it would be OK.  There was no cause for a ruined day.  After more reassurance and a hug, they each went their separate ways, not even knowing each others name.

When Tammy first told me the story, I thought how I might have reacted had my bumper been crinkled.  I think Tammy is right.  A slightly crinkled bumper does not constitute a ruined day.  A lost job maybe.  A report of cancer probably.  The death of someone close, surely.  But a crinkle in a bumper?  It would seem this young lady must have her “ruined day threshold” set pretty low.  The whole story has me taking a closer look at my own day-status meter.  I am thinking of bumping the ruined day threshold up a couple of notches.  Why not?  The higher my ruined day threshold, the more good days I am likely to live.