What’s in a name? My husband may refer to me with pet names
of endearment, but I might be offended or at least think it strange if others
used these to refer to me. Our church family calls our undershepherd “Pastor,”
but it would be odd if his wife called him that in the privacy of their home.
When I was practicing neurology, my patients called me “Dr. Barclay,” but I
would worry if my son referred to me in that manner!
For about a quarter of a century, I was a practicing
physician, and for the past 19 years, I have been a Christian and child of God
by calling on the Name of Jesus Christ (Acts
2:21; Romans 10:13), Who died on the cross to pay for my sins,
was buried, and rose again the third day (1
Corinthians 15:1-4), so that all who trust Him would have eternal life
(John 3:16).
Although I still write regularly for medical websites, I
have retired from active practice as a physician. Yet I can never relinquish my
status as a born-again Christian (John
3:3-8), for once you are truly saved, you are always saved (John 10:27-29; Romans 8:35-39),
and you can’t walk away from the faith. (Not that I would want to, for my
desire is to walk closer with Christ each day [Colossians 2:6]).
Yet beginning about 2 months ago, I have felt some of my
former role as a physician resurfacing, which sometimes seems to be in conflict
with my identity as a Christian. The reason underlying the tension emerging
between these roles is that my husband Richard was diagnosed with locally
aggressive prostate cancer.
This trial began totally unexpectedly, as my husband is
physically very active and apparently in excellent overall health, despite a
well-controlled heart valve problem. We were in our family room one morning,
enjoying our daily devotions over a cup of coffee. As Richard answered his cell
phone, he was shocked to hear his cardiologist’s voice. The doctor explained
that he had done some routine blood work at Richard's last visit, and that his
screening test for prostate cancer had come back markedly elevated.
“But I have no symptoms,” Richard told the urologist he saw
a few days later. Yet the urologist found a mass, and an MRI scan showed a
large tumor extending beyond the prostate. Soon we found ourselves at a nearby
center of cancer excellence, one at which I had done neurology consults years
ago. How different things felt as a wife rather than as a doctor in a position
of authority and expertise!
I am thankful that God is using my background as a
physician to help expedite Richard’s diagnosis and treatment; to help him
understand and navigate the complex options available; and to adhere to
recommendations for diet, exercise, treatment, and other interventions intended
to improve the overall outcome.
We are particularly grateful for concerned friends
connected to the cancer center who have also been invaluable in this regard,
and we both firmly believe that God is working all things together for our good
and His glory (Romans 8:28).
There are countless other blessings already received and
lessons already learned. We praise God for preparing us for this trial by
guiding us through earlier trials; for surrounding us with a loving church family (Galatians 6:2) and
prayer warriors (James 5:16);
and by teaching us to lean on Him, to cherish every moment we have together (James 4:14), and to be good stewards of the time and opportunities He so graciously affords us (Luke 12:42; 1 Corinthians 4:2).
So why the conflict? As a physician, I had to take charge,
make the best possible decisions based on the available evidence, and remain
compassionate while distancing myself from emotional involvement that might
cloud my judgment. As a wife who dearly loves her husband and can’t imagine
being apart from him for even a day, I tremble at the thought of illness
compromising that closeness.
But as a Christian, my role is not to ask why this happened
or how I can fix it, but to trust in God alone (Isaiah 50:10), and to obey Him (Job 1:21; 2:9-10). Like any other burden in life, I
can try to carry it in my own flesh, which is doomed to failure, or I can leave
it at the foot of Christ’s cross and resist the temptation to pick it up again
(1 Peter 5:7). I need to lean
not on my own understanding, but to trust in the Lord with all my heart and
acknowledge Him in everything, so that He will direct our path (Proverbs 3:5-6)
I remember so many instances in our own lives, in the lives
of our brothers and sisters in Christ, and in Scripture, which prove that God
is faithful (Deuteronomy 7:9; Psalm
89:8; 1 Corinthians 1:9; 10:13), that His strength is
made perfect in our weakness, and that His grace is sufficient (2 Corinthians 12:9).
As a physician, I had to trust the evidence and proceed
rationally based on the probability of various outcomes, weighing whether a
particular treatment would be effective, ineffective, or even harmful. As a
Christian, I must trust God and proceed in blind faith (2 Corinthians 5:7) that His ways and thoughts are higher
than mine (Isaiah 55:9); that
He loves us infinitely (1 John 4:8;
Zephaniah 3:17); and that nothing is impossible with Him (Matthew 19:26).
As a wife, I am motivated by love to do whatever I can to
help Richard, yet I am hindered by fear that my efforts will be inadequate. And
indeed they are, for God’s perfect will shall be done (Luke 22:42), not by enabling our plans, but by empowering us
to be vessels through which His Spirit can work with the wisdom, love and power
that spring only from Him (2 Timothy 2:20).
Only His perfect love can cast out my fear for my husband’s
health, and my (realistic) doubts that in my own strength I can contribute
anything positive to the outcome (1
John 4:18). Surely I can do nothing on my own, but if I abide in Him,
and He in me, He will allow me to bear much fruit (John 15:5).
One of my many prayers in this trial is that God would use me as an instrument of His love, wisdom and comfort (2 Corinthians 1:4) to help Richard receive miraculous healing that comes only from the Great Physician (Mark 2:17), that we would give Him all the praise (Isaiah 25:1) and all the glory!
© 2019 Laurie Collett
