By: Dr. Grant Scarborough

Occasionally I get inspired to write, and this happens to be one of those days. I woke up early to vote for our next president. This is important. Four years of leadership that has the capability of changing our cities, neighborhoods, and even our very lives. Today was the day I made a difference. Standing in line with my diet coke can and granola bar in hand, I waited. One hour I waited. Then my time came, I thought. But they could not find my name. They found my wife’s name. I informed them that I lived with my wife. I even told them she was pregnant, I thought that gave me credibility. Still, no name. They called downtown, and I was not listed there either. I walked away dejected. I couldn’t even get an “I voted” sticker. I asked for the sticker and the sweet lady said, “Did you vote?” Well – you know – I just kept walking.  What a wasted hour, well, not completely wasted. For over an hour I talked with a lady who was trying to start an inner city medical clinic in a nearby community. Her eyes lit up as we talked, “I’ve heard about you,” she said. We exchanged phone numbers all the while talking with the next guy about his desire to start a once monthly dinner for the homeless. Then my two new Methodist friends used my wife’s favorite word, “providential.”  They smiled as they used this word while I stared in disbelief – or maybe old fashion confusion. Yes, by the time I reached the clinic I was a providentially dejected voter without even a sticker or an opportunity to change the world. I would even say that this is the curse of my mother, but she might read this one day.

All I can do now is pout and see patients. I am good at one of those and not so good at the other, and I will let you decide. My first patient was a middle aged man from rural South Carolina. He showed up with his CAT scan report in his hand. I read the results before I even saw him – a destructive invasive neoplastic lesion – obvious cancer that even a good “pouter” can interpret. The CAT scan was performed over a month ago (the words destructive and invasive came back to mind). Where have you been? Seemed like an obvious question. In unbelief I heard a story of rejection. He has been to four different hospitals that refused to help because he had no medical insurance, and of those four, two were even state hospitals. No one was willing to give him chemotherapy, radiation, or surgery. I yelled quietly, “What in the heck is wrong with this place?” This guy created in God’s image can die and no one cared. Breathe, exhale and keep going.

Patient number two: a kind inner city man with just your basic medical problems of high blood pressure, diabetes, and high cholesterol. He says everything is fine except…then he points to his head. “I don’t trust nobody doctor.” He tells a tale of sitting in his chair all night long and looking out his blinds every time he hears a noise.  He stands alone at the bus stop. He walks alone and turns around if anyone is behind him to make sure he is not being followed. He is big and intimidating but has become imprisoned mentally. His wife passed away over 20 years ago, and his son is in Iraq. “I don’t trust nobody doctor,” he repeats again and again. We prayed for his tormented paranoid mind that has imprisoned him. After prayer, the man gets ready to leave and then nervously speaks “Doctor…. one more thing…” – I don’t have time for ‘one more things’ – “There was an old lady out front who couldn’t pay her co-pay. What’s going to happen to her?”   I inform him that people have to pay a little bit to be seen. It teaches them responsibility or something. “Well she said she could pay in a couple of weeks, but I don’t know how she will be able to. Do you mind….. I mean …..Can I pay her co-pay?” I have never seen a borderline paranoid schizophrenic reach out and care for a stranger like this man. I walked back in a closed exam room and wept.

Is a president really going to change the world or will it be you and me and my paranoid friend? Has Christ not called us to this time and place to build His Kingdom and love His people?  Are we going to change the world in the ballot box and then go home and wait for it to happen?  We are his ambassadors, to build his kingdom, love a neighbor, serve the poor, and die to self.  That sounds great, but now what?

My nurse is having a yard sale, why don’t you come? In fact, she’s gathered a couple of friends to help, because economics tells you the more stuff at a yard sale the more you make.  And she wants to make lots of money. The yard sale is for Calvin – a quadriplegic, that comes to our clinic. He was recently hospitalized because Medicaid does not give him enough gauzes and supplies for all his wounds and his bed is not ideal for his thin quadriplegic body.  My nurse was thinking about writing Calvin’s name in for the presidential election, because if he became president he would have better supplies. Instead, she decided to raise the money through a yard sale. She is “wasting” one entire day so a new friend can have gauzes, wraps, and lotion to stay a few more days out of the hospital. Talk about changing the world! She has started with loving her new friend through a yard sale, more than I have done in a long time.

It is Election Day, and I did not vote; but if I could, I would vote for you, the reader. We need you to walk outside and love those around you for the sake of Christ. Go, serve, build, and die unto the glory of Christ. Have a yard sale, pay for someone who cannot afford his bill, care for someone dying of cancer.  Can you see the world beginning to change?

By: Dr. Grant Scarborough

“He showed me kindness. He taught me to be generous. I knew if I ever needed anything, he would be there for me.” What a great legacy. I hope people will say that about me one day. But his legacy did not start off that good. In fact, most people will remember the other legacy.

His diabetes was difficult to control. He was on insulin and poor so he could not always afford his insulin. He was also homeless, which made it difficult to keep insulin cool in the Georgia heat. He was not sure what to do, so he asked what seemed reasonable, “I live in a tent next to the river. Do you think I can keep it cool by keeping it in the river?” In all my training I never read a research study about the best way to keep insulin cool while living in a tent.

We came up with a better plan. Since his tent was nearby, he would come in weekly and we would keep his insulin cool for him. And that is exactly what he did. Over many short encounters, I learned about my friend.

He had been to prison. One note in his chart reported he was clean for 49 days. He was going to treatment five days a week. He lived in the tent city at the end of Second Avenue. “Oh, that tent city,” a light went off.

The homeless are outcasts. They, for whatever reason, mental illness, drugs, or poor decisions, are found fending for themselves. They have nowhere to return and no one to receive them.  But, even the homeless desire some sense of community. They have a sense of order and you are allowed to be a part of the community of outcasts. Everyone is welcome. Well, not everyone. One group is not welcome. They are thrown out of the homeless community and forced to live together in a smaller tent city. The one that caused a light to go off in my head when he mentioned it. The sex offenders. The homeless sex offenders are the outcasts of the outcasts. They are rejected by the homeless themselves.

To be honest, sex offender’s crimes are all different and they are all wrong. They deserve punishment for their crime, there are no excuses. Maybe they should never be let out of prison and maybe they should be further outcast. This story is so hard to write because the crime is so bad. Yet, I began to like my friend.

He was so polite – always saying thank you. He was very grateful for whatever help we offered. He was not rude. He was patient when it was busy. I would almost forget from which tent city he had come from as we talked in the exam room behind closed doors. We all experienced him at different times and ways, but we all liked him.

Then late one night, a text went out to many of the staff. It was a link to an article. The title was simple, “homeless man found dead in tent.” It was our friend. The reject of rejects had died alone in his tent.

After the article, there was a comment section. People were already commenting – some nice and some not so nice. And then someone posted his mugshot in the comment section which stated “sex offender,” the comments then became even more negative. If his legacy was not bad enough in his life, it became worse in his death – smeared in paper and ink.

We were all sad. We called the sheriff department to report the next of kin, but the phone number we had did not work. We discovered he would be cremated and buried in a pauper’s grave. Our staff wanted some closure. It happens often when one of our patients die that some might go to the funeral. But there was no funeral planned for him. I called my friend who works at a mission. He told me that they have funerals for the homeless from time to time. He encouraged us to have a service so our staff could have closure and he would put the word on the street so any homeless could come that wanted to have closure as well.

“But Grant, you will have to do the eulogy.”

“What’s a euology? Why me? I have never done that before.”

“You will be fine.”

So, I prepared for my Wednesday 1:00 service – even more than my presentation about MercyMed to a church that night. I was so nervous. I knew about him, but I did not know where he was spiritually.

How do I prepare for a service? What do I say? I polled some of the staff and they said similar words – kindness and grateful.

I settled on Psalm 23, I thought it might be a familiar passage and because of the line “He leads me beside still waters” It brought back to mind him putting insulin in the Chattahoochee River. “The Lord is My Shepherd, I lack nothing.” It starts with a Shepherd. I spoke of this Great Shepherd. How the shepherd went out after His sheep.

All throughout scripture Jesus goes after the lost sheep. It is the sick that need healing, not the healthy, the good book says. Jesus hung out with the sinners, tax collectors, prostitutes, and lepers so much he got a reputation. A bad reputation. He was talked about by the church leaders. The people with leprosy were themselves cast out. They were not allowed to be a part of the synagogue or even live in the city. They had to carry a bell around with them and whenever someone came near they had to ring their bell and yell “unclean!” They, too, were outcasts of outcasts because of a disease they had. This is much different from my friend who was an outcast of outcasts because of what he had done, but they, too, were unclean to the city.

The Great Shepherd makes unclean things clean. He, the clean holy one, reaches out and touches the unclean. As He touched the unclean, his holiness and perfection is not tainted. No, the unclean man is made new. The old has passed and the new has come. So, I preached that message. I told my new friends, the outcasts of outcasts, there is a great God that can make them a new creation. He makes unclean things clean. He can give them a new heart. And then we sang Amazing Grace, because we need amazing grace to clean this deep.

After singing, there was a time of sharing.

My nurse read, because she was afraid she would get too emotional. They had sat down when he picked up insulin recently. They sat and talked. He said, “everyday, I regret what I have done. It has ruined my life. There is never a day that goes by that I think about how I have ruined other people’s life and mine.”

“Do you know Jesus can forgive you?” my nurse asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you know that Jesus loves you?”

“Yes.”

Then my nurse closed her talk with simply saying, “I will miss him.”

Two other spoke – both from the tent city – both cried. Then, one said those words, those words of legacy from the tent city. The world knows the legacy of sexual offense, but among his people, they say, “he showed me kindness. He taught me to be generous. I knew if I ever needed anything, he would be there for me.”

The outcast of the outcasts ministering to one another. The gospel among the poorest of the poor. My friend knew Jesus, he knew he was forgiven and now he was ministering to others.

I like stories of redemption, I just do not like this one. Of all my stories I have written, this has been the most difficult to write. I have found I am uncomfortable with the depth of grace and the debts of man’s sin. Jesus’ grace extends to the worst – Jesus’ grace extends to the ugliest sin I can imagine. Sex offenders receiving grace? I am uncomfortable. I have four daughters. I have a shotgun.

MercyMed is not a homeless medical clinic. Most of our patients are the working poor. Even though our clinic is right next to the tent cities, the homeless rarely show up. They have huge trust issues. Because of their lack of trust, they hardly ever enter the clinic. I give this disclaimer, because today, a week after the funeral, late in the afternoon, a middle aged black man walked into the waiting room. We were finishing up our staff meeting. Someone was quick to say, “we are closed.” He swiftly said the name “Billy.”

He already knew Billy and saw him at the funeral. Billy walked over there first and then called me. It was a quick and brief conversation, but from the heart. “Thank you for doing that funeral for my friend. It meant a lot to me.” Then he quietly slipped out. I do not know if I will ever see him again, but I was overwhelmed by his kindness. He was so moved that he left his “comfortable” area of being an outcast to walk into the “unfamiliar” world we call normal to say thanks. I wonder if that was from the influence of my friend who passed away. I wonder if that was from the God who showed the utmost kindness. God’s kindness leads us to repentance.

A Christmas story from Dr. Scarborough.

Christmas reminds me that this tangible world is about more than the tangible. It reminds me there is more than just a physical body. It reminds me that the God of heaven and earth – that is not tangible – put on a shell of a physical body to rescue me and you and remind us the greatest thing on earth is not physical, but spiritual. This is humbling as a doctor. I treat the physical body pretty well with medicines, but how do I handle an eternal soul? Recently I saw MercyMed and Highland Community Church come together and handle a soul well. I pray for many more stories like these. Christmas reminds me that this tangible world is about more than the tangible. It reminds me there is more than just a physical body. It reminds me that the God of heaven and earth – that is not tangible – put on a shell of a physical body to rescue me and you and remind us the greatest thing on earth is not physical, but spiritual. This is humbling as a doctor. I treat the physical body pretty well with medicines, but how do I handle an eternal soul? Recently I saw MercyMed and Highland Community Church come together and handle a soul well. I pray for many more stories like these.

I was asked a couple of times by staff to do a house visit on a patient that lives in our neighborhood. I knew the patient already – I had walked through the house before, but it was not to see him. I knew also he lived less than a three minute walk from the clinic, but he could never make the appointments because he could not walk three minutes – or three yards without getting short of breath. So after many requests for a house visit, Anita, my 12 year old, myself and a few staff went down to check on him.

We met the family on the porch and talked for a few minutes. Really, I did not want to walk inside. I knew a little what I was walking into and I was not sure if bringing Anita was the best idea. Finally we stepped on the plywood floor in a dimly lit room. It took my eyes a second to adjust to realize he was naked on the bed, with sheets barely covering the important parts. I tried to shield Anita as I walked in, greeted him, and pulled the sheet up a little more all at the same time. As I was doing this, I noticed an oxygen tank, cigarettes, a lighter, and 3-4 live roaches on the bedside table. To be honest that sounded like a bad combination for the roaches.

He was a shell of a man. Bones pushed through his skin. He had no fat. He had used all his energy just to breath and he now had no reserve left. He had oxygen in his nose and after every 3-4 sentences he was so short of breath, he turned on a nebulizing machine – which delivered medicine to help him breathe easier so he can say a few more words. He never left his bed. If he tried, I think he would have died. It took all he had to breathe just lying there.

Finally I walked out. As the doctor, I had to make sure the family knew he would not be here long. It was met with mixed response and then Anita and I went to get ice cream. Job done.

Well, not really. The next week I heard some of the staff went down to his house with guitar in hand and sang hymns and a few Elvis songs. While I was watching his breathing, I really did not hear what he was saying. They reminded me – he loved music. His son, he told us, could sing just like Elvis. And they decided music would be good medicine for the soul. As music filled the air, I do believe the aroma of Christ filled the air as well. I am grateful for staff that listens to the soul while I am listening through a stethoscope.

A few days later, his shortness of breath was more than he could handle so the ambulance was called again and he was brought to the hospital. I was actually working that night in the hospital so I knew when he came into the ER. Shortly after his arrival, I saw Rob, pastor of Highland Community Church, walk into his room. Highland is a church behind our clinic that lives out the gospel in this poor neighborhood. MercyMed is so grateful to have them ministering right behind us.

I was not sure what they talked about, but Rob texted me afterwards and wanted to know if I needed a cup of coffee. I sure like that guy.

I finally went in to admit my friend for shortness of breath. I again saw some real physical problems, he needed immediate medicines. I almost had to admit him to the ICU, but after a few more treatments, I thought he was a little better. I again reminded the family that he would not be here long. And then he was transferred to his room. Later I heard what happened. The patient’s wife called the guitar playing Elvis impersonator to see if he knew someone the patient could talk to about spiritual things. Rob showed up. They talked about Jesus, the best medicine ever. While lying in the ER bed, waiting for medicine, trying to catch one breath after another, he accepted Jesus as His Savior. His life expectancy on earth is very short, but with Christ as his Lord, he will now live forever. He has been snatched from the hands of hell and now bound for heaven where he will be able to walk more than a few steps – he will be able to run with ease.

What is the meaning of Christmas? It is the fact that Jesus came into this world to rescue people – sinners. And then He tells guitar playing Elvis impersonating sinners to go out and rescue others. The best medicine this Christmas is not a pill, it is the sweet presence of Christ bringing you from life to death. The greatest miracle is making dead things come to life and this is what the Great Physician specializes in. Do you know him? The intangible became tangible – He was born as a baby. His name was Jesus. He makes dead things come to life.