Bring them!

I have a confession to make. Those of you who know me well, are probably already aware of this little quirk I have. Are you ready? Here goes...

I am afraid of doctors and of taking medication. When I am sick, I will do anything to avoid going to the doctor. Unless I truly think I might die, I won't go. And I'd rather suffer and feel terrible than to take medicine. Not sure why I'm that way. Pretty sure I get it from my dad. He didn't like doctors either.

Funny enough, God has put me in a position where I get to spend quite a bit of time in the doctor's office (although less lately than it used to be). And He's given me quite an extensive list of daily medications that I must take to keep me healthy. He has a sense of humor like that.

A few years ago, my fear and stubbornness about going to the doctor nearly cost me my life. 

It started on a Thursday afternoon. I was coming home and there was a small tree across the road. I had to get out and move it. No big deal, but afterward, I couldn't catch my breath. It was just a small tree, but it wiped me out for the rest of the day.

The next day, I woke up with a racing heart. I thought maybe I had drank to many sodas or eaten to much sugar the day before. I tried to go about my day, but I just couldn't shake it. I still felt as if I couldn't catch my breath. Any little effort left me exhausted. I was shaky and irritable. 

Saturday morning was more of the same, only worse. I thought if I could take a nap, I would feel better when I woke up. But my heart was pounding so hard that I couldn't relax enough to sleep. That afternoon, loading things into my car, I could hardly walk from the house to the car without having to stop and rest.

My mom kept asking if I was okay, if I needed to go to the doctor. But I refused. I just knew it would pass. If I pretended nothing was wrong, it would go away on its own.

But I continued to get worse. Finally, sometime in the evening, my mom convinced me to check my blood sugar. I hadn't eaten all day, so I expected it to be very low. I was wrong. It was over 300! That finally convinced me, so we headed out to the ER.

After several hours and tests, the doctors diagnosed me with diabetes and high blood pressure. Their suggestion was an insulin shot and a follow up visit with my regular doctor on Monday. I went to bed Saturday night expecting to feel like myself in the morning. But that's not what happened. 

Sunday, I woke up barely able to cross the room. Even when I was at rest, my heart pounded and I couldn't catch my breath. My mom wanted me to go back to the ER. But, I didn't want to be one of "those" people, so I refused. Finally, when I had to stop to rest on my way to the restroom, I gave in and let her drive me back (did I mention the hospital was an hour away?)

Well, long story short, I was diagnosed with bi-lateral pulmonary embolism...fancy words for saying that I had multiple blood clots in both my lungs. I was taken from the ER by helicopter to the Heart Hospital in a very dangerous situation. Those blood clots could have left my lungs, traveled to my heart or to my brain, and killed me. I should have been in to see the doctor on Thursday. But I was too scared and too stubborn.

Thank God my mom didn't give up. If she hadn't kept insisting that I go, I would have waited even longer and who knows what would have happened. Likely I wouldn't be sitting here right now. I'm so thankful that when I didn't think I needed to go, she made me go. And, I'm thankful that she didn't just tell me to go and leave me on my own. She drove me herself and made sure I got the help I needed.

I was reflecting on a passage from Acts when I thought about that day I went to the hospital. Acts 5:15-16 says

¹⁵ As a result, people brought the sick into the streets and laid them on beds and mats so that at least Peter’s shadow might fall on some of them as he passed by. ¹⁶ Crowds gathered also from the towns around Jerusalem, bringing their sick and those tormented by impure spirits, and all of them were healed.

What I love about that passage is that it doesn't say the sick people came on their own, looking for healing. It says the people brought the sick and the tormented and laid them in the streets. These people were either unable or unwilling to go on their own, so their family and friends brought them to the place they needed to be. AND THEY WERE HEALED.

How many people do I know who need healing? Maybe not a physical healing, but definitely a spiritual healing? A healing that I myself have received. A healing that I know they can get if they will only allow Jesus to touch their hearts. But, they're unable or unwilling to go to Him. They're stubborn and won't admit their need. Just as I was when I was sick. They think they can take care of the issue on their own, just like I thought I would feel better if I just pretended there wasn't a problem and waited it out.

Why, then, am I not bringing them? If someone I cared about was sick and in danger of dying, I would bring them to the doctor. But there are people all around me in danger of missing out on God's love for them and I do nothing.

 I know that I can't physically bring everyone around me to church or to Bible study or to a Christian concert. I do think it's important to invite people to those things and if they choose to come, it's wonderful! God will do amazing things through that. But some people just won't agree to come with me.
  
But, instead of giving up on them, I bring them and lay them at Jesus' feet the only way I can, through prayer. By bringing them to Jesus through my prayer, I open the door for Him to work in their lives and bring them to the place of healing. If they won't come on their own, I will bring them. And when I do, He will move in their lives. And they will be healed.