Eight days ago I got sick enough that I broke down and actually called for an ambulance to take me to the nearest emergency room. On the one hand, I was certain it was nothing more than a horrible case of gas. But at the same time I felt like I was about to die. So, after several hours of not being able to get comfortable, and no relief, I caved in to both my fear, and my training. From my paramedic training, I knew the signs and symptoms were consistent with gall bladder problems, or potentially a heart attack. But that didn’t change my mind, that it surely was just going to be nothing more than gas. I chose to ignore the facts. The ER doctor examined me, ordered tests that verified his diagnosis, and forced me to accept the truth.
From the emergency room I was admitted to the hospital. I was told that most likely I would have surgery first thing in the morning. Now I was really scared. I hate to admit it, but I was actually frightened. As part of my paramedic training I had spent some time in the operating room. I know the doctors and nurses in there are well trained professionals. But when it comes to trusting someone else with my life, I have a very difficult time with that.
Maybe worse, was not knowing exactly when I was going to have surgery. The surgical resident who examined me Monday morning told me it would probably be later in the afternoon. He lied. Sometime around 10:30 or 11:00, I think, they came to take me down to be prepped for surgery. The only notification I really had time to make before being taken from my room was to go on Facebook with my phone and just post a quick status, “going under the knife, now.” I found out later one of my daughters saw that and may have freaked out just a bit. (Note to self, try harder to avoid freaking the kids out. )
The whole time I kept wondering if I had really done enough. Was I really good enough? What if I did die? What would my kids remember most? Did I really give them a good foundation for faith? To be honest, these questions frequently haunt me. But one overriding thought kept answering those questions. I had accepted Christ as Lord and Savior at boys camp, a long time ago. As I was finally being wheeled to the operating room, I felt like God was asking, “How do you plead?” My sole response, “I plead the blood. I plead the blood, of Jesus.” My final conscious thought, was “no matter what, I plead the blood of Jesus.”
What truly frightens me, is the possibility of arriving to judgement day, and seeing loved ones who never made a commitment to Christ while they had a chance. Ultimately, on judgement day, we only have two options available: to kneel, and be found guilty; or to kneel, and plead the blood of Christ. Today is the day of salvation. Which option do you choose?
But if we are living in the light, as God is in the light, then we have fellowship with each other, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, cleanses us from all sin. If we claim we have no sin, we are only fooling ourselves and not living in the truth. But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness. (1 John 1:7-9, NLTse)