Post-Op Ponderings

Dear friends,

 It wasn’t a major surgery, really, but they had to put me under for it. One of my (small) appendages was virtually removed and reattached, and they thought it best I remained unconscious for that experience. I agreed.

 I planned a full week of work. Recovery period? Two weeks by all normal accounts, but for me, one day should do it. Thank God I am not like other men. I can recover from having a body part removed and reattached in ONE DAY!

 The anesthesia itself was enough to keep me F.O.B. for two days, and crawling around like a slightly drunk opossum several more. Of course, they warned me that women who don’t smoke have the greatest likelihood of post-op nausea. Me? I never get nauseous, so nothing to worry about there. Until I was actually post-op. And my ride home had a pickup to do; it was start, stop, start, stop, turn sharp corner, back up, start, stop . . . for an hour. I won’t give details about my body’s response to this.

 Then there was blood, scabs, pain, and just the general trauma of having one’s body cut open and sewn back up. While under, I bit so hard on the mouth tube that my lower lip swelled like a balloon. Then my face decided join the swelling frenzy, and for several days I looked like a squirrel attempting to hide golfball-sized food stashes in my cheeks.

 I don’t like being weak. I like being strong. This basic human “ascendency tendency” is responsible for my consistent failure to accurately calculate my need for rest. Could this be why God commanded that we rest on the seventh day (Exodus 20)? Maybe we’d overestimate our stamina if He left it up to us. Or, for the more retiring ones, sit in front of the T.V. and underestimate our need for spiritual things. In either case, He commanded what He knew wouldn’t naturally occur to us.

 God made the earth in six days, then rested on the seventh. He worked, then rested. But we, speaking of mankind, rested with God immediately upon waking to existence. We rest, then work. Work is a product of our composure in Him. We have no power of our own. It’s all borrowed, derived, consequential. Without Him, we’re dust in the wind. On a pragmatic level, without His ongoing infusion of strength, we’re dead spiritually, like anesthetized zombies, stalking the earth with a vacant stare and a broken gait.

 If I’m going to be weak, I want the weakness of one resting. I invite you to rest with me . . . in Christ, on His Sabbath, unto His glory and for your health and happiness.

*Stock up on Christmas gifts at !

Best to you!


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