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Bubba, not what you would classify as “the sharpest knife in the drawer” type of person, walked into the doctor’s office and the receptionist asked him what he had. “Shingles,” said Bubba. She wrote down his name, address, got his medical insurance information, and told him to have a seat. Fifteen minutes later a nurse’s aide came into the waiting room and called Bubba to another room. She asked Bubba what he had. “Shingles,” Bubba replied. She interviewed him, writing down his height, weight, a complete medical history, then told Bubba to wait in the examining room. A half an hour later a nurse came in and asked Bubba what he had. With a great big sigh Bubba replied, “Shingles!” The nurse told him she was there to help and gave Bubba a blood pressure test, an electrocardiogram, and drew some blood for testing. Then she told him to take off all his clothes, gave him a backward shirt to put on, and to take a seat and wait for the doctor. About an hour later the doctor came in and asked Bubba what he had. Disgusted and tired Bubba calmly said, “Shingles.” The doctor asked, “Where?” Bubba said, “Outside in the truck. Where do you want ’em unloaded?”
I guess you can tell I’ve been dealing with doctors again. My wife was admitted to the hospital for a couple of days last week, through the emergency room. Even though her doctor had called ahead to the ER with information concerning her case we felt more like aliens from another world when we arrived. Every person along the line wanted to know, “Why are you here?” The problem here is I don’t talk doctor, a totally foreign language to me, hence the reason for the phone call from the doctor to begin with. No one seems to have the information. Only the phantom ghost doctor of the hospital knows what’s going on. We all did our best to get treatment started for my wife and eventually the doctor with the information showed up and everybody got on the same page of why we were there and what had to be done. All in a day of life.
[Matthew 20:29-34; Mark 10:46-52; Luke 18:35-43] As Jesus and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, a blind man named Bartimaeus, sitting by the roadside begging, asked what was going on. He was informed Jesus of Nazareth was passing by. Bartimaeus was a pretty sharp fellow and knew of Jesus’ healing powers so cried out to him, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Of course the parade leaders, most likely prominent local townsfolk, told Bartimaeus to shut his trap, but Bart shouted all the more for Jesus’ help. Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.” Someone went to get Bartimaeus, ‘“Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.” Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus. “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked him. The blind man said, “Rabbi, I want to see.” “Go,” said Jesus, “your faith has healed you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus, praising God. When all the people saw it, they also praised God.’” I suppose if I hung around doctors long enough I would begin to understand their language, but I know when I need a doctor I have to drop everything and go, just as Bartimaeus did. The language of religion is difficult and can be understood when studied. There comes a time in every life when begging and excuses get old and crying out for help seems right. By faith we seek God’s favors and drop everything to pray. “... let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles ...”(Hebrews 12:1-13). God heals the faithful.
Thomas W. Bonham is an associate minister with the Floresville Church of Christ. Email him at email@example.com. Find his column on his blog at http://wilsoncountynews.com.