Being in the hospital is the pits. My past two or three experiences have confirmed that. They nearly gave me insulin once even though I am not diabetic. If I had not spoken up and questioned the nurse, no telling what might have happened. As she discovered, that shot was meant for my roommate.
And speaking of roommates, you never know how that will turn out. The last one I had was decidedly unfriendly. After the nurses deposited me on the bed from the ER gurney, I reached across to pull back the curtain and introduce myself.
“Don’t you dare open that curtain! I want it shut!” screamed my companion of the next two days. She then talked on her cell phone half the night and rang the call button every fifteen minutes. I never did get a wink of sleep.
Then there was the unexpected bath I received when the nurse, instead of pushing the meal tray out of the way, tried to reach across it to scan my bracelet. She managed to upend the pitcher of ice water all over me and my umpteen stitches.
And finally, the food, especially after surgery—broth, coffee, juice, and jello. Yum, yum. Barely 18 hours after being sliced from hither to yon, my breakfast was brought in, but I was alone and could not sit myself up. The tray was barely at eye level. I could only see things that stood up above its lip. I saw a dark brown mug and a white one. I tasted each and could not tell the difference, but it only made sense that the coffee would be in the dark brown one, so I drank a little of that. One of my grandfathers used to say about weak coffee, “You could see a minnow a mile deep in it.” That pretty well describes how that cupful tasted.
Keith came in mid-morning and was there to help when the lunch tray arrived, identical to the breakfast tray except for an added glass of tea. He reached down and picked up a packet, tore it open and sprinkled it in yet another dark brown mug. “Here’s your broth,” he said as he handed it down to my level.
Suddenly a bell rang in the back of my mind. “When you came in did you see one of those packets on the breakfast tray?” Yes, it turns out he had. What I had been drinking was the hot water meant for that packet of instant bouillon, which I had been too low to see. No wonder the “coffee” tasted so weak.
Sometimes we settle for hospital broth for our souls. Modern philosophies, sectarian –isms, and various “spiritual” folderols fill our hearts and our minds with about as much nourishment as a mug of hot water. Yet our spirits obviously hunger for that type of guidance, or why would those things appeal to so many?
The Word of God is there for us, meat for our souls, and sustenance for our lives. Is it too strong to suit us? Does it burn a little going down? That’s what happens when you get real food instead of pap. Sometimes you have to work a little harder at chewing, and a lot harder at digesting, but the nourishment is far greater than anything man has to offer.
We have ample evidence that God’s word is real, that it was written not by fallible men but by writers inspired by the Holy Spirit to write the words of God. No other book has ever passed such difficult tests of authenticity as it has. If you want to study those things, I can give you the names of books and authors that will satisfy you in that regard--if you have not already decided not to be satisfied. For many the Bible is too ordinary, too sensible, not fanciful enough to satisfy their vision of spiritual fulfillment.
Another reason people want to dismiss the Bible is that it calls them to accountability. If this is the Truth, I must answer to a Creator for how I have conducted my life. So many want a belief system that lets them be God by allowing them to decide how they should live, but even they, if they are honest with themselves, eventually see the fallacy in that. We cannot see above the lip of the hospital tray. We need someone whose perspective is farther reaching to tell us which road to take, someone who can see the bouillon packet and tell us about it, someone like a God who loves us and only wants what is best for us.
Take a good long drink from the Word of God today, and really start to live.
Ho, every one that thirsts, come to the waters, and he that has no money; come buy, and eat; yes, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Why do you spend money for that which is not bread and your labor for that which satisfies not? Listen diligently unto me, and eat that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness. Incline your ear, and come unto me; hear, and your soul shall live: and I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of David, Isa 55:1-3.
Dene Ward
And speaking of roommates, you never know how that will turn out. The last one I had was decidedly unfriendly. After the nurses deposited me on the bed from the ER gurney, I reached across to pull back the curtain and introduce myself.
“Don’t you dare open that curtain! I want it shut!” screamed my companion of the next two days. She then talked on her cell phone half the night and rang the call button every fifteen minutes. I never did get a wink of sleep.
Then there was the unexpected bath I received when the nurse, instead of pushing the meal tray out of the way, tried to reach across it to scan my bracelet. She managed to upend the pitcher of ice water all over me and my umpteen stitches.
And finally, the food, especially after surgery—broth, coffee, juice, and jello. Yum, yum. Barely 18 hours after being sliced from hither to yon, my breakfast was brought in, but I was alone and could not sit myself up. The tray was barely at eye level. I could only see things that stood up above its lip. I saw a dark brown mug and a white one. I tasted each and could not tell the difference, but it only made sense that the coffee would be in the dark brown one, so I drank a little of that. One of my grandfathers used to say about weak coffee, “You could see a minnow a mile deep in it.” That pretty well describes how that cupful tasted.
Keith came in mid-morning and was there to help when the lunch tray arrived, identical to the breakfast tray except for an added glass of tea. He reached down and picked up a packet, tore it open and sprinkled it in yet another dark brown mug. “Here’s your broth,” he said as he handed it down to my level.
Suddenly a bell rang in the back of my mind. “When you came in did you see one of those packets on the breakfast tray?” Yes, it turns out he had. What I had been drinking was the hot water meant for that packet of instant bouillon, which I had been too low to see. No wonder the “coffee” tasted so weak.
Sometimes we settle for hospital broth for our souls. Modern philosophies, sectarian –isms, and various “spiritual” folderols fill our hearts and our minds with about as much nourishment as a mug of hot water. Yet our spirits obviously hunger for that type of guidance, or why would those things appeal to so many?
The Word of God is there for us, meat for our souls, and sustenance for our lives. Is it too strong to suit us? Does it burn a little going down? That’s what happens when you get real food instead of pap. Sometimes you have to work a little harder at chewing, and a lot harder at digesting, but the nourishment is far greater than anything man has to offer.
We have ample evidence that God’s word is real, that it was written not by fallible men but by writers inspired by the Holy Spirit to write the words of God. No other book has ever passed such difficult tests of authenticity as it has. If you want to study those things, I can give you the names of books and authors that will satisfy you in that regard--if you have not already decided not to be satisfied. For many the Bible is too ordinary, too sensible, not fanciful enough to satisfy their vision of spiritual fulfillment.
Another reason people want to dismiss the Bible is that it calls them to accountability. If this is the Truth, I must answer to a Creator for how I have conducted my life. So many want a belief system that lets them be God by allowing them to decide how they should live, but even they, if they are honest with themselves, eventually see the fallacy in that. We cannot see above the lip of the hospital tray. We need someone whose perspective is farther reaching to tell us which road to take, someone who can see the bouillon packet and tell us about it, someone like a God who loves us and only wants what is best for us.
Take a good long drink from the Word of God today, and really start to live.
Ho, every one that thirsts, come to the waters, and he that has no money; come buy, and eat; yes, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Why do you spend money for that which is not bread and your labor for that which satisfies not? Listen diligently unto me, and eat that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness. Incline your ear, and come unto me; hear, and your soul shall live: and I will make an everlasting covenant with you, even the sure mercies of David, Isa 55:1-3.
Dene Ward
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