November 28, 2008

Here I am, writing again. You can always delete this, but I've had an incredibly rich day so far, and I have got to write about it.

A good friend, a guy I work with in jail ministry, took me to McDonald's this morning. He bought me two Egg Mcmuffins and--get this--a McDonald's coffee, than which there is none better, including Starbuck's newfangled java. He told me there is some talk of doing a church plant in Yadkin County, and that if it goes through, he would have to stop helping me. I said, "Well, they have got a jail out there in Yadkin County, though they can't seem to figure out where to build a new one. What about you starting a work out there?" It struck him as a very good idea.

Can you imagine that? God gave me this tumor, among other things, so I would give up my iron grip on the jail ministry and let some other folks help carry the load. And now at least one of those other folks might go out to start something new. How's that for the kingdom spreading?

I left McDonald's with time to get to the waiting room an hour early. I sat down in the middle of a conversation between folks who obviously were believers, and the talk resonated with one theme--victory in a broken world. One gentleman had been to Baptist a number of times, including one incredibly difficult time when the doctors, in the course of a heart operation, had to transplant a muscle to protect his rib cage. He stayed in the hospital for more than a month nursing the thing along, but when he went home, the muscle eventually became inflamed with infection. So they brought him back to redo the whole thing, including placing a pump in the area to drain out the infection and promote the flow of blood. The upshot of the whole thing was a miraculous recovery and an egg-shaped cavity in his chest, covered only by skin, where we could actually see his heart pumping. I will tell you right now that this was one grateful human being.

The gentleman sitting next to me was obviously tuned in to the conversation, and after the first man got up to go to radiation, I struck up a conversation with the second man. It turns out he is a retired Baptist minister who lives in Wallburg and who knows a fellow with whom I used to do prison ministry. And who has a heart for the gospel.

When my turn came, I walked into the radiation room and got ready to lie down on the table. A technician asked about the t-shirt I was wearing, one of my favorites, actually, from a Redeemer men's retreat. The front side says "Men Under Construction" and the back says "Free Grace in a Broken World." I reminded the technician of what it didn't say--"Cheap Grace in a Broken World."

One of the blessings, by the way, of radiation therapy, has been the music the technicians play. Today they had a CD of Johnny Mathis doing Christmas music. "Silent Night" and "Silver Bells" were the two I caught. If God ever gave someone a better set of pipes than he gave to Johnny, I don't know about it. Well, maybe Josh Groban. (And, Brian Haskell, I hate to admit this, but Frank Sinatra is on the list too. Right next to Merle Haggard.)

After radiation, I talked awhile with Ed Shaw, my neurologist. It was a laid-back day at the hospital, as half the patients had opted to stay home, and Ed and I had a wonderful conversation. Among other things, I thanked him for just being who he is. It ended with me praying for him, of all things. What a picture of grace that is--the patient praying for the doctor!

It reminded me of another vivid picture of grace I had encountered just forty-five minutes before. Minutes after the gentleman from Wallburg left for radiation, William Miller came in. We started talking about what he had done as a cardiologist, and it turns out he had worked many years in what they call a "cath lab." (Don't confuse that with a "meth lab", by the way.)

For those of you who don't know what a "cath lab" is, let me say that it's a place where a doctor, shielded by fifty pounds of lead, looks at the inner bodily functions of patients. The catch, of course, is that this moving picture is actually being provided courtesy of radiation, and that doctors who do this sort of thing are much more prone than the regular population to get cancer. Now I know why William Miller has a stomach tumor.

So here it is--a doctor voluntarily takes the hit so other people can get healthy. What a picture of Jesus and the gospel! He gets sick, to the point of death, actually; we get healthy! Wow!

One last note--my conversation with Ed confirmed that the "physics gentleman" to whom I alluded in my last e-mail had actually sought me out on purpose. I thought so. If you'll have it, there's another picture of the gospel.

Sayonara--Chuck Eggerth