Category: Blog

Little Moses

Posted on by Billy Holbrook

** Warning**

Please read FIRST: I do not condone the injuring of animals, nor do I intend to imply that people are like cats. This is an analogy. It is an imperfect picture of the point I am trying to convey.

Please read SECOND: I do not condone the injuring of animals, nor do I intend to imply that people are like cats. This is an analogy. It is an imperfect picture of the point I am trying to convey.

 

Whew—I had to get that out of the way. I did not want someone calling to send me to sensitivity school. I never liked school very much.

We lost our cat: “Little Moses.” “Little Moses” was our amazing cat. He did not part the red sea, but he did have babies. Actually, he had 2 litters. We either need to improve our homeschooling in the area of anatomy or call Ripley’s Believe it or Not. But we loved “Little Moses.”

Anyway, this is Little Moses’ story: a year ago we found an entire litter of kittens right outside our office in Augusta, Georgia. Actually, that is not accurate. I did not find anything at all. The whole thing was a scam. Everyone knew it except me. The staff found the kittens and knew I would never take them, so they called my wife, Anne. They told Anne there were just two or three, but when she arrived, they must have multiplied because she found six, all way too young to be left alone—so young, none of their eyes were even open yet. They had ticks, fleas, and ants all over them. They were the saddest bunch of kittens you had ever seen. When I got home, I found my wife and children with small bottles of milk, hand feeding six kittens. Every three hours, the feeding repeated again and again and again.

“Little Moses” was the smallest of the bunch. We did not think he would make it. His little paws looked as if they had been burned. We fed him, washed him, and held him. When it was time to give them away, we couldn’t part with “Little Moses,” so we kept him. And then he became fat, or maybe pregnant. Then he became “Little Miss Moses.” The first litter was delivered in a bad storm that left an oak tree in our house. The second litter was born 2 days before moving to Columbus.

She was happy in Columbus, except for the owls and hawks, and she was doing really well until she went missing. She was gone one day, and then two, and three—signs went up—four, five… “Curse you owls!” No word, no phone call. We were very sad. “Little Moses” has been a survivor from day one. Finally, her nine lives had run out. We figured it must have been an owl, a dog, another cat or something. Around day 6 or 7, Anne went to the outside garage and heard a soft meow. Could “Moses” have been in the garage all along? As the door went up, she staggered out. A little weak, but a survivor still. We immediately fed and watered her.  But she was different—a little more grown up maybe? …maybe gone from survivor to warrior or hunter. That afternoon, for the first time ever, she caught her prey—not one, but three chipmunks.

It was as if her time in solitary confinement had changed her. She had gone from a well-fed, soft, pampered kitten to the chipmunk killer. She was doing her best to survive. You can’t really blame her. It really was the environment she was left in. It was a hard environment with limited resources. We were glad she survived.

Now read the warning again.

Many of the people I care for come from tough environments, with very little resources. Many people do the best they can with the little they have. The entire system is just messed up. But everyone living there knows the rules. They know how to play the system. They are all survivors. They rely on government, cunning, skill and more to survive. No one gets married because they get less money from the government. The more kids you have, the more money you get. If you start working, you lose disability. There is no motivation to push forward. There is no motivation to get out. If you start taking steps forward, they lose some of the little resources they have. Do they take this change or do what their neighbors have done for generations? Why not drink another Schlitz Malt Liquor, have sex again, and wait for the time to pass—it is all vanity. If 7 days changed Little Moses, how much would a lifetime change you? Chipmunks everywhere.

From the outside, it looks ridiculous. How can you let the environment affect you so much?  It is easy to condone this behavior, especially from the outside. I was thinking what I might look like if I was locked in the neighborhood for a week. Then the entire situation flipped on me. How ridiculous does my system look like from the outside?  What would happen if you locked them in my neighborhood? Would making one of my patients a middle class citizen solve their problems or cause new ones?

We look like we have it all figured out—all of life in a neat little package. We are busy and driven. We live life full of passion. We want to change the world and leave our mark. Those things are not bad except when the motivation that drives them are not pure. We are not busy to build the kingdom of God. We are not passionate about Jesus. We are not leaving a mark for Christ. No, we are busy to make a name for ourselves—to build our own kingdom—to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and then show the world what we are made of. We are winners, leaders, first. Once again, all of this sounds great until we read the Bible. “The first will be last”—“Jesus did not come to be served but to serve”—Jesus did not even come to do His own will, but His Father’s in heaven. This business and success and drivenness is just another form of Schlitz Malt Liquor and sex—waiting for time to pass—it is all vanity and chipmunks are still falling.

The poor and rich alike need to be placed in a new neighborhood – The neighborhood of Christ. Gandhi once said, “I like your Jesus, but I do not like your Christians. They are so unlike your Christ.” We need to follow in the footsteps of Christ. One of my patients in Augusta was a black man who really felt like he was a woman. He dressed up as a lady and sometimes went down to 9th street to get picked up by men. We had wonderful talks about Jesus. Finally, I told him that I did not want him to be like me—a white middle class Christian. He agreed. And then I told him that I did not want him to be like him. He looked puzzled. “I want you to be like Jesus,” I said. This is the only answer that does not lead to vanity.

There is no difference between Schlitz and sex and self-reliance and self-promotion. And until our neighborhoods follow in the footsteps of Jesus, we will be battling the lower, middle, and upper classes thinking one is greater or worse than the other, not realizing they will all lead us to the road of destruction because they are all centered on man. We need the kingdom of God.  We need a miracle greater than parting the sea and “Little Moses” having babies. We need the miracle of changed hearts and neighborhoods. Imagine if we dropped my  friend into a neighborhood where people considered others more important than themselves – where people were battling to be the biggest servant, where people gave away their coats and walked an extra mile with someone in need, where humility reigned. I think my friend would come out a different person in less than seven days.

O Lord may your kingdom come quickly.

Come, Lord Jesus, come!

 

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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.