Spiritual Care

CMDA Resident Devotional  October 10, 2012

Matthew 5:14-16: “You are the light of the world.  A city on a hill cannot be hidden.  Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl.  Instead, they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.”

Sometimes I get so busy that I forget to pay attention to the subtleties of my patients’ needs.  Like their spiritual needs, for example.  I’m working in the ER this month.  A Spanish-speaking family hadn’t required much, but was so appreciative.  As I said goodbye, the grandmother said, “God bless you, Doctor.”  I was caught off guard.  It is a rare occasion to hear such a comment in my hospital!  I didn’t know how to respond but later chastised myself for being too busy to stop and pray with them.

Another family came in with matching T-shirts—they were headed to a church convention.  Lo and behold their child had a contagious disease, and when asked if she could be in the nursery, I advised against it.  This time I shared a little more, asking where they go to church and telling them where I go.  But again, with more patients waiting and nurses requesting orders, I was too hurried to take the time to pray with them.   And today, in clinic, the opposite happened!  I tried to pick up on the clues I’ve been missing.  Some parents brought in their newborn, and both mom and dad were wearing rosaries.  I asked if they were Catholic, and the mom said, “No.”  I guess it was just a piece of jewelry to them—but it made me laugh that at least I was trying! 

If you haven’t read Dr. David Levy’s book, “Gray Matter”, I strongly recommend it.  He shares how his own faith was tested as he—a renowned neurosurgeon—learned to pray with patients.  Eventually they came to expect it from him, and even nurses and others around him looked forward to his prayers.  There have been times when I’ve felt the urge to pray for patients.  Parents have broken down in tears and started confessing sins to me—not at all what I expected from a simple, “Lord, heal this child” type of prayer.  I have seen prayer make a big difference in patients and their families.

One way we can let our light shine is by addressing our patients’ spiritual needs.  No matter what they believe about salvation or Christianity, illness is a vulnerable time where patients and their families may be more receptive to the hope we have within us.  Whether it is depression or a new diagnosis or end of life care, they’re looking to us as physicians for answers.  While we don’t always have all the medical answers (especially as residents!), you have Christ—a hope within you that is greater than any physical diagnosis or treatment.  Don’t be afraid to let your light shine!

Insufficient Memory

CMDA Devotional August 29, 2012

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Psalm 39:12: “Hear my prayer, O Lord, listen to my cry for help; be not deaf to my weeping.  For I dwell with you as an alien, a stranger, as all my fathers were.”

As a resident, do you ever feel like you don’t know what you’re doing?  For me, it’s a daily occurrence!  I feel inadequate and unprepared, regardless how much I thought I prepared.  Our computer charting system occasionally pops up with an “insufficient memory” window; quite often I wish I could claim that phrase as mine!  As a Christian, there are also times where I feel inadequate.  I’m supposed to have all the hope in the world, but I’m exhausted, stressed out, and haven’t eaten in what seems like days—all for my calling to share Christ’s love with the hurting.  I try to quote verses I memorized growing up, reminding myself, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13), but sometimes fatigue overwhelms me, and I wonder how I can possibly continue.  I daily (often hourly!) have to remind myself who I am serving, and that “The one who called [me] is faithful, and He will do it” (I Thessalonians 5:24).

When I read the Psalm above, it really hit me.  Yes.  This world isn’t my home, this isn’t my final destination.  We live and work in a world surrounded by disease, hurt, disappointment, and pain.  It is our job as residents to discover what is wrong and how to treat it, yet we often come up short.  It is encouraging to me that even David, a man after God’s own heart, the king of Israel, felt like he didn’t fit in at times.  Hebrews 11 talks about Abel, Enoch, Noah, and Abraham (among others) who “admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth.”  Verse 16 says, “Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one.”  It is my desire that on my longest, most difficult days, I would keep in mind a heavenly perspective including why I chose to become a doctor.  Revelation 21:4 reminds us that, for believers in Jesus, “He will wipe every tear from their eyes.  There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”  It is my prayer that—even when I’m exhausted—to live in such a way that I look forward to Heaven rather than being burdened by the stresses of my daily workload, trusting that the Lord will see me through and give me insight to care for my patients while we eagerly await the hope of Eternity.