Author: Billy Holbrook

Confessions to a Crack Addict

Posted on by Billy Holbrook

by Dr. Grant Scarborough

I saw his name on my rounding list. I only work in the hospital four days a month, so I am not there often. Normally I work in my clinic to care for the indigent in town—but not today.

I recognized his name right away. One of my indigent patients was in the hospital again. I read the note in the chart before going to see him. The words: “Crack. Again.” A statement in the records said, “well-known to the hospitalist service,” which meant he was admitted often. His crack had caused his heart to be weak and pump very poorly making him chronically short of breath, his lungs filling with fluids. I was trying to remember my patient as I walked in, but I did not remember him being on crack.

Disheveled, labored breathing, sitting in a chair with oxygen was my patie…. wait, this guy is not my patient—he just has the same name. “Thank goodness.” I let down my guard a little. I had a lot of patients to see and since this was not my private patient, I could hustle through this guy.  

This was basic medicine—continue the diuretic, wean oxygen, may need a thoracentesis for the pleural effusion, and a little more time. The reality though was his heart was really weak, and he would be chronically short of breath. It was obvious—he could not finish a sentence without taking another breath. But it was his own fault: crack cocaine. And you know what? He knew it was all his fault.

So I started to walk out. You can only help people that desire to change.

“Doctor?” I was reaching the door. “That was a nice article about you in the paper,” he said. “Huh?” Actually I had been in the paper recently—but this guy can’t read—like he reads the paper—come on—(I was thinking).  He said, “I told my neighbors, ‘this doctor right here, he is my doctor.’”

My heart sank—I must have been confused. He was my patient. I completely rushed through seeing him. I did nothing but do my duty of caring for physical need. So many questions ran through my mind—Why do I care about people differently? Why do I treat him differently if he did this to himself?

“This doctor right here, he is my doctor.”

I slowly walked back in and knelt down beside his chair. Conversation restarts. “How are you doing in here?” We talked some more and then I said, “You know you are valuable. You are too valuable to waste your life on crack.” “You told me that last time doctor. The last time I was in the office. You know I thought a lot about that and I have not used crack in 6 weeks,” I was overwhelmed. Because of our conversation, and the realization that he is valuable, he stopped a 40-year addiction. As I walked out of the room he said one last thing, “Doctor, thank you for doing what you do. Don’t stop.”

Once out of the room, I broke down. If only he knew I did not remember him. If only he knew I thought less of him because of his addiction. If only he knew of my arrogance. Wow! If only I knew of my imperfections. I went back to dictate, and I could not get him out of my mind. He said some really nice things about me and he had to know. He had to know the real doctor.

I walked in again. “I think you need to know… I am not an angel. Just ask my wife.” I laughed to ease my tension. I went on to confess areas in my life where I struggle and fall short. I confessed my life of different addictions. I confessed that I am not nearly as godly as that article made me sound or as he thinks I am. “Doctor, no one is perfect, but we are both on the road.” “Yes we are.”

My struggle is not crack and my struggles are not his—but we both need Jesus. We are both broken sinners that need a Savior. We are no different. I have hurt myself with sin just as he has hurt his heart. And the reality is that our only hope is Christ. And yes, we are both on the same road.

We left confirming this verse:

That He [Jesus] who began a good work in us, will bring it to completion.

If you confess your sins to one another, you will be saved.

Comfort Zone

Posted on by Billy Holbrook

By Dr. Grant Scarborough

Jesus met Levi, a tax collector of the day. Levi was hated by his own people. He took their money and gave it to the Romans. It’s tax season and I just decided I don’t like Levi either.

Jesus found Levi working at his tax booth. Jesus says, “follow me” and Levi “leaves everything.” Levi throws a great party – a feast and invites all his friends. He invited other tax collectors, acquaintances, and Jesus. Everyone else grumbled. “Why does Jesus eat with those people? They are tax collectors and sinners.” (Luke 5)

I hope you can all see the obvious application and guilt trip that is coming. I read this passage and thought – “Man, when was the last time I threw a party like this!?” “Now you, you sorry little Christian, get out of your comfort zone and throw a party!” Guilt trip successful. Get out of your comfort zone! Throw a big party. Hmm – throw it at least once a year, I guess. That is about right.

But my application is wrong! My guilt trip took a wrong turn. Jesus is not a rich white American that throws an annual party for the less fortunate.

Jesus answered them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.” This was not an annual party for Jesus – it was a lifestyle. It was His mission. He did not get out of His comfort zone for them.They were the reason He came. It was right in the middle of his wheel house. It was his zone. He came for the sick and for the sinners. He met with them, went with them, and he sought them out.

Our Christian life and outreach does not need to be summed up as an annual party but a lifestyle of devotion to Jesus. Our comfort zone should be in daily devotion to Christ. For Christians, being out of our comfort zone should be when we take our eyes off of Christ and focus on ourselves. The reality is that most Christians live in the latter. Those 364 days of “normal” living – and the one great party we finally throw is really our comfort zone.

Lord, please help me live in such a way that reaching out to others is my comfort zone. That caring for others, carrying other people’s burdens, serving others, helping the elderly, eating with the homeless is my comfort zone. Show me, Lord, that this is how You have called me to live. And Lord give me one or two days a month to get out of my comfort zone – – and go fishing.

The Parable of the Lost Sock

Posted on by Billy Holbrook

Dr. Grant Scarborough

Once there was a story of a sock that was lost. It made the owner very sad, for it was his favorite of all his socks. He had one of the two socks and refused to throw it away because he thought the other one would show up, even if it has been eight years. The owner loved this sock more than the others—it was an expensive pair that was meant for biking. It also has a pretty cool design. He last wore the pair in Memphis and had moved two times since then and cleaned out his sock drawer numerous times. The owner of the sock would always find the lone sock and be filled with sadness. He never could let himself throw it away.

Let’s just say the owner was me because it was. And this story of heartbreak simply made me mad! I cannot tell you how many times I would find the lone sock and think, “This is it! The lost sock!” I would run to my sock drawer to be disappointed again. 8 years of disappointment and sadness. I know what you are thinking reader—you are thinking, this will have a happy ending. You are thinking my patience and searching paid off. But it never did. Every few months I would stumble across it, my favorite sock. There is just something about your favorite sock.

Then one morning it happened (once again do not get too excited dear reader). I found the sad lonely sock—I have searched for the other so often—and I thought, just maybe I will search again one more time. What would happen if I flipped through the drawer another time after doing it for eight years and it suddenly appeared. Man, what a great sermon illustration. I had to do it. I flipped through my drawer again disappointedly. But I was thinking the entire time about the sermon illustration I would do if it was there. (Not all illustrations are perfect.)

I could not help but think of the story of the widow who had 10 coins and lost one. She searched all day and when she found it, she called her friends in for a huge party, for a lost coin was found. How much more would Jesus do for a lost soul. Or maybe the shepherd who lost one sheep out of 99 that goes looking for the one lost sheep. When he finds it, he rejoices, throws a party. The sheep that was lost has been found, and the sinner that was lost has been called a son. Oh and what would I do if that sock appeared.

Jesus is a better searcher than I, for He searches to rescue the lost, the lonely, the forgotten. Sometimes it is a quick search; sometimes Jesus searches for eight years. But the Great Shepherd never loses His sheep. He finds all that the God of Heaven and Earth gives to Him. He not only finds, but He rejoices over them. God rejoices over His lost sheep—you were once lost. You have since been found and rejoiced over. God has thrown a party for you! He hung the decoration; He mixed the cake in the cake bowl; He called His friends; and He sung the song. Christ rejoiced over you. He sang over you. He celebrated you. This is CRAZY. You, the lost one, should be celebrating Him, the one that sought you out when you did not even know you were lost. Yes, you and I should be throwing the party for the great Rescuer. He did all the work. He traveled, He swept, He searched for eight years to find you, and you did not even know you were lost. And then the greatest part of the story: He celebrated you. He called His friends together and said, “Look! My son, my daughter, is home.” There is no more danger, no more loneliness, no more sadness, simply eternal joy because the searcher has celebrated me.

Man what a great sermon illustration. Amazing. What I would do to celebrate a sock, I thought, as I flipped through one more time. I cannot explain it—as I wrote my sermon in my mind—the sock appeared. I could not believe it—I was holding both socks. After eight years, I had a match. Where had they been? I have no idea. I promise; I am typing this with them on my feet. I have told everyone I have seen about the lost sock that came home. My wife knows, my kids know, my co-workers know. This could be the most exciting day in years.  We even toasted my lost sock that came home at dinner tonight. As I type, I promise you I am not crying, but I am pretty close. I cannot tell you how much I have wanted to find that sock. A sock! Really nice cotton and polyester. Black and white thread. Woven tightly together. Probably made in China. I bet it cost me a good 15 dollars. Socks—I love them. The sole will wear out in a few years. They will then be tied together and thrown in a trash can.

How much more valuable are you than a sock? Christ searches you out. Your soul will never wear out. Your heart was woven together by Him in your mother’s womb. You are now a son, a daughter of God. And you are eternally loved. God has sought you, God has died for you, and God has rejoiced over you. The great lover of our souls says you are mine and I am yours.

Be loved by Christ,

Sock finder!

From Kosovo to Columbus

Posted on by Billy Holbrook

by Jeff Barkhouse, FNP

Serving in a ministry context in a predominately Muslim culture is not the logical preparation path for doing health care at MercyMed, but that is exactly the career trajectory that God had in store for me and my family as we transitioned back to the United States after living and working with Albanians in the Balkans for the last twenty years. I haven’t met many Albanian speakers here in Columbus, but I have met a number of people with whom I can share the hope I have in Christ. It turns out that there are hurting people everywhere, even back where you came from.

I worked as a Registered Nurse and Family Nurse Practitioner for 10 years in the U.S.A. before moving overseas to join a team of people seeking to plant a church among Albanian Muslims. While I thought I would be doing health care overseas, I found that what was needed was the more traditional ministry tasks of teaching, discipleship, and preaching.  In a society and culture with vastly more health clinics and pharmacies than churches the traditional ministry roles were a much more vital commodity than my health care background. So for twenty years I taught English, taught the Bible, preached, discipled, encouraged the fledgling church where we served, and, eventually was ordained for that work through the PCA.

As our ministry and family matured we felt the Lord’s leading to return to the States for the next phase in our lives. I was open to serving in a traditional ministry capacity, but those opportunities did not open up in Columbus where we wanted to settle, so I happily began looking at opportunities to work again as a nurse practitioner. After having served as a volunteer nurse at MercyMed when we were home on furlough in 2012, I naturally wondered whether there might be an opening for a rather out of practice nurse practitioner with lots of ministry experience. Dr. Scarborough was very gracious and generous to say he would help me in any way to get re-established as a nurse practitioner regardless of where I might end up working in the long run. That was all the indication I needed to know that MercyMed was, in fact, where I wanted to land.

So having been here now for the last two months I am excited about being re-trained as a nurse practitioner in a context where my ministry experience is not simply a historical career oddity but a valued asset in the patient care setting.  It turns out the team culture of ministry is consistent across geographical and cultural borders. So being a missionary in Kosovo is not too different than being a nurse practitioner in Columbus if you have the opportunity and freedom to do it in the name of Christ. I’m privileged to do so here at MercyMed.

Behold What Manner

Posted on by Billy Holbrook
by Dr. Grant Scarborough

He was an old white man living in a racially divided city, the city where Martin Luther King was shot and killed. Racial relationships were strained at best and the only thing people could agree on in the entire city was Elvis and BBQ. But I had lived there for a few years and had begun to understand the unspoken rules.

So when I saw the older man in the hospital, I was a little confused. After I met him, I turned around and saw a younger black woman in there as well. “Hmmm—who is she?” I thought. She was very attentive. She asked a few questions. “Maid? Caregiver?” She really did not act like either one.

Everyday I came to check on my new friend. Everyday she was there. He slowly improved. She took notes. She would talk to the patient about details. I examined him every day. He was slowly improving, but I was so curious.

I could not take it anymore—I turned to the old white man in the bed, “Sir, who is this young black lady in the room everyday.” He looked at the girl with a twinkle in his eye, smiled and then said, “Doctor, I have two daughters, one of them is adopted and I know not which one she is.”

What great love!

If you are a Christian—a believer in Christ—can you see and smell the gospel in this story? Do you realize what Christ has done for you? Because of his great love for you, because of his rescue of mankind by dying on the cross; because of his blood spilled and covering your skin, you too can hear the same words.

You will stand, one day, in front of the God of heaven and earth and beside you will be your elder brother, Jesus. And God Himself will look down and say, “I see two children before me, one of them is adopted and I know not which one it is.”

When you are loved by God, you are loved completely. You are His Child. He loves you. He is proud of you. He turns His face to you in love, and with a twinkle in his eye, smiles and says, “Child, you are mine!”

Behold what manner of love the Father has for us, that we should be called sons and daughters of God, and that is what you are! AMEN.