I've spent quite a bit of time in hospitals recently, and it's got me thinking. About hospitals. They really are fascinating places. From the outside, they just look like other big buildings - the old ones look like big old schools, and the newer ones look like big new schools, or financial headquarters. When you go past them, you probably don't think too much about them, unless you have a personal connection with someone inside or who has been inside. But think about what's going on in there. People breathing their last. People breathing their first. People crying with sorrow, and others with joy. People fighting for their lives, and others doing their best to save them. Every state of human life can be found in a hospital.
I think that's why the world does its best to shield us from them. Alright, you can watch ER or Holby City or something and see some of the drama that unfolds, but that's with all the detachment, both emotional and psychological, implicit in the medium of television. That's safe. Otherwise, hospitals are big, isolated people-repair factories found quietly sitting more and more on the outskirts of big cities. Most of the time, people don't see them. The rest of the time, they don't want to. They're scary, surreal places, at least for many. And how about you? How do you feel about going to visit someone you know in hospital - a relative, a friend, someone who you've heard mentioned in Church? Does the prospect appeal to you? We'll come back to that in a bit.
Wherever you've been, whatever you've been doing, to step into a hospital (the same applies to care homes you could argue) is to step into another world, except it isn't.
It's the same world, only a part of it that is normally kept hidden from view. If someone collapses on Princes Street, an ambulance will come, paramedics will put a blanket over the person, put them in the back of said van and whisk them off to somewhere where they can hopefully be treated, far from the eyes of the rest of the crowd. At once stunned and solemn, they will soon forget about what they've seen and carry on with their business, as is to be desired and indeed expected. That’s just what we do, and us tough Brits are lauded as particularly adept at it.Hospitals are so impacting I think because they reveal the human condition as it really is - vulnerable, unpredictable, mortal. At the mercy of forces outwith the realms of our control. From the moment you are put in the back of that ambulance, the world no longer seeks to conceal from you your own mortality; rather, you are immediately exposed to your own vulnerability and moreover man's complete inability to sustain itself indefinitely. Health professionals instantaneously take the place of and indeed supersede every other authority figure in one's life, and they funnily enough have no desire to conceal the aforementioned reality from you, only to put you at some sort of ease as you seek to mentally process it. This is the life they know. Almost uniquely in our existence, this applies equally to everyone regardless of race, gender, social status, financial clout or even condition of health. The chances are, all of us will one day end up in a hospital or hospice, unless we die first. Do we think about that? Should we think about that? Does the world want us to think about that? Does the Bible want us to think about that?
At this point, I must defer to the afore-heralded sermon of the Rev, which focused primarily upon Ephesisans 5:15-16:
'See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil'.
The concept of numbering our days, furthermore, can be and was specifically linked back to Psalm 90:12:
'So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom'.
The world may seek to promote the lemming lifestyle of blissful ignorance towards mortality, but that clearly is not the desire of God for us. How often when raising, or seeking to raise a topic of some eternal significance, or any which raises the issue of our impending death, will someone tell you to 'lighten up' or stop being so 'depressing'? They don't want to hear it! And this potentially goes for us as Christians too. I'll come back to it hopefully in a later post, but don't you find that people don't want to think about illness, or death, or even getting old? Isn't that strange, given that death is an inevitability, the one thing we know awaits us in the future? But then the world, even with all the progress, advancement, and enlightenment that has emerged in its history, has no answer for it. How can you know what happens when you die? Amidst the confusion, sadness and sense of loss which so often surrounds it, many reach out to the God they have ignored throughout their lives, realizing at last that He is who they have needed all along. This is a sad fact, but it is a fact nonetheless. And God can, and has used it for His glory.
I asked the question earlier on of how you feel about visiting someone in hospital. It's an overly generalized and simplistic question I know - of course, it depends upon your relationship with the person, what their condition is, the extent to which their presence there is surprising, and probably dozens of other factors. These considerations are probably most important even in the decision of whether to go at all. There may well be a great deal of trepidation on your part, after all, what are you going to find? What will they look like? What are you going to say?
Something that used to trouble me whenever I faced the prospect of visiting an elderly relative (now deceased) who spent several years in a rural hospital, was the gnawing sense of guilt at my lack of real, consistent concern. It was sad to see her lying almost lifeless on a bed all those times, of course, and as you sat you felt rightly compelled to pray earnestly, knowing it to be the only hope for her, and your only available method of assistance. But then I would leave her, get in the car and drive home, and as the miles wore on gradually that sadness and concern would be left behind, at least in part. The prayers, at first so fervent, would over the following days fade into habitual blandness, often only boosted in impetus by our own Sunday morning prayer meeting, which I remain (and please take this not as a cheap plug) both committed to, and, in far greater measure, thankful for.I firmly believe that God would rather we repent than regret in all things, but if there is one thing that I wish I had done differently over the years in which I was able to visit my great aunt Elsie, it would be that I had taken the opportunity to be a great witness for Christ in the hospital, and this I believe should be our primary focus whenever we face the prospect of hospital visitation, or think about hospitals and issues of illness and ill health more generally. Is it often an uneasy, unpleasant proposition? Undoubtedly yes, at least for me, but perhaps with this mindset it can be an exciting one, too. I'm hoping to look at some of the issues surrounding the opportunities available to us as we spend time with older folks in particular in a later post, but suffice to say in a world so often caught up in its own busyness, where as a more facund man than I once observed, we are largely seeking to, and succeeding in, Amusing Oursleves to Death, surely what better place than that so removed from the absurd routines of everyday life, the hospital, and further what better personal circumstance, ill health, to share the love of Christ and the hope that He brings with anyone and everyone?
So, what should I have done? I should have spoken more with the staff, thanked them for their efforts, and encouraged them in their profoundly difficult work situation. I should have told them that as I was praying for Elsie, I was also praying for them too, and that moreover the God with whom I have a personal relationship with, through His Son Jesus Christ, (as potentially can they), will I know hear and answer those prayers. And I should have been able to say that in all honesty – an unfulfilled promise of prayer is an awful sin and one which I know myself to have committed before. I should have shown love and concern for all the patients in the ward, and their visitors - not being insensitive or intrusive, but at the same time not walking by on the other side of the road as it were either. A difficult balancing act? Yes - some people may desire nothing more than a chat, a promise of prayer, even just an ear, some may be desperate to know how they can find peace, and know God, while others may just want to be left alone (I speak from recent experience – never bother an old lady eating yoghurt) - so I should have been praying for wisdom in pursuing it.
There is considerable Biblical basis for this argument, I believe. The initial point of this post which I at least attempted to make was that on entering a hospital, a person in essence 'checks out' of the everyday world. Now, it is true that with medical advancement - in this part of the world at least - has to a large extent come an end to the total ostracisation of the sick as was so prevalent in the days of Christ - the leper is no longer cast out of the town, at least not in the same way (interestingly, the Encyclopedia Britannica attributes as the catalyst for this shift in approach the conversion of Constantine to Christianity in AD 331 – I’m sure Cameron Rose could explain that further). But as Christ spent so much time in His day amongst the sick, should not we today? And why was that so anyway, you may wonder (I have), especially given the eternal perspective which obviously Christ possessed in the greatest abundance? I believe the reason was that just said - as people are stripped of their health, and the complacency seemingly intrinsic, so the worldly bubble of assumption and lifestyle in which to some extent they, and we, exist is at once burst. In desperation, they of old turned to Christ and those who bore testimony of Him - the leper, the blind, the cripple, and the relatives thereof. The world no longer had the answers to their questions, could no longer meet their most pressing needs. The world, to put it bluntly, didn’t want to know. Of course, we know that in reality the world hasn't the answer for any of the questions, but it can take extremity of circumstance, in this case with regard health, although many others too (fiscal being another prime example) for that awareness to manifest, and often did, even in the days of Christ. Say it that this no longer be the case?
It can be, and is I am sure, a wonderful thing that our hospitals have Christians within them, be it in the role of patients, visitors, or staff, as long as when there we allow God to work out His purposes through us, and are obedient to His call. There are a whole load of medical practitioners, both in practice and in the process of training for (I guess they aren't practitioners then), lurking about around Index, as you probably know.
They look pretty much like everyone else so they can be a little hard to spot - it would obviously help if they always wore white, light cotton coats or at least stethoscopes around their necks, but most of the time they don't. And they would I'm certain be able to elucidate upon the sociological and psychological, to say nothing of the spiritual, impact of hospitals and those within them far more learnedly than I. At the same time, by turns, they also perhaps of all of us are exposed most directly to the challenges and opportunities presented by, and implicit within, their workplaces.In today’s western, pronouncedly secular society, it is simply not possible for Christian doctors, nurses et al, however zealous, to move from patient to patient, visitor to visitor sharing the Gospel and offering the hope and forgiveness, and the peace that passes understanding, which they know God offers to them. Nonetheless, anyone who has spent any time in a hospital knows just what impact someone can have, either positive or negative, depending on how they go about their work - a smile, a cheerful disposition, taking time to address the concerns of those in and around the bed, and simply asking how one is doing can mean so much to patient and visitor alike. And of course to those of us with other careers and lifestyles, going about our daily business, the reality is the same as is the challenge. It is surely of the utmost importance that the conduct of Christians working in healthcare, as everywhere, is marked by compassion, care, thoughtfulness and love - spiritual gifts evident even to those who cannot identify them as such. Over the times recently where I have been a visitor in hospital, I have been greatly blessed by the ministry, for that it surely is, of many Christians who are evidently treating their patients as potential brothers and sisters, people made in God's own image, and not just as clients as the relatively recent 'healthcare as business' model could and perhaps does encourage. Although I must plead ignorance with regard to all the pressures and demands of the modern healthcare working environment, I recognize that it may not always be easy, or even considered good practice, to work in this manner. But in diligence, and working as unto the Lord, I am sure that all would and will be blessed in it.
These are, for better or worse, simply some of my own thoughts, and as such are entirely contestable. Feel more than free to post any comments, or speak with me further about anything you've read. I am sure many folks around Index will have far greater insight into these issues than I. As I stated earlier, my intention is to post a second part of this in a short time, focusing more on the identity issues surrounding age, and in particular the elderly, and what I perceive to be an unhealthy not to say unbiblical idolization of youth. I hope the juxtaposition of these pieces with my more silly posts is not overly off-putting, but rather is of even a little benefit to the blog - again, you are welcome to comment. go to main page
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