The Just Judge

The ambulance is becoming my "thought box." Patients, circumstances, and co-workers often cause me to think and reflect and God and what He's give me. As emergency calls were few yesterday, I had a lot of time to spend in thinking in my thought box. And here's one trail of thought that my mind followed:

Being able to be forgiven whenever is a big hang up for many people.

So you say God is just and fair. Good. But tell me this: How is it that this "just God" will give the same "reward" to someone who did every sin in the book, asking for forgiveness only with his last breath, as to someone who strived after goodness and righteousness all his life?

Why is it?

Why, because God is not really concerned with sin at all, rather He's concerned with Jesus, love, and us. It's an entirely different focus. It's no matter how, who, or what sins you do. All that concerns God is that you are reconciled to Him and recognize His Son as Lord and King. Sins and wrongs, my friends, are of little importance to God.

People from my yesterday

"Yo hungrey?" Her brow furrowed as she looked at me, tears building in her eyes. "Oh, yo poor thang! They make yo work thet hard?"
I nodded, "I have to work for my food around here... I haven't done enough yet, tonight, so it will be a bit before I can eat."
"Oh, poor thang! Here, ya take these offa me, I gonna make yo something. Where's my kitchen?"
She was difficult to understand; her tongue had grown thick in her mouth. I leaned in to understand.
She was going to cook me up a grand feast of chicken wings -if I would ever let her go.
I didn't. And before we arrived at the hospital, she had forgotten about her whole scheme to save the poor intern from starvation. Now all she could think of was this dreadful cough that she had just discovered as we rolled through the ER door.

Her eyes were blue, pale, gray blue; one was clouded over, the pupil barely visible. It reminded me of the old scraggly dogs that I checked into the veterinary office, the summer I was a vet's assistant. But she was adorable.
"I didn't like you. But now I do. You all have been so nice. I like you." She looked up, sunshine flowing from her face. I smiled, she smiled, and the sun brightened.
She hadn't been able to catch her breath. It hurt to draw in air. It hurt worse not to. She was in her nineties and scared.
But my super-man like partners easily lifted her from her wheelchair to the cot, and she felt young again. And she liked us. And she could breath again.

His hair whipped around, eyes wide, eyes wild, as he jumped from the sound of my voice. I didn't know I was that electrifying. A blossoming red rose was tattooed on his forehead. Sections of it disappeared, in his concentration on what I was saying to him. His eyebrows were thin, black and hairless, and marked with the same permanency as his black eyeliner.
"Sir, tell me, do you always drive your van on the railroad tracks at night?" His hair whipped back around as those eyes found my partner.
Outside the ambulance, the blinking, screeching lights of the police and ambulance melded with the officers' sweeping flashlights and the occasional green flood light, into one mind-mixing scene.
He was under arrest. Not for driving on the railroad tracks. Not for crashing his car into one the buildings. Not for drinking. Not for drugs.
Long ignored child support had caught him. Caught him, on the side of the tracks, the side that he shouldn't have been on.
His eyes pleaded with me, as he stepped out of the ambulance. He was hungry and thirsty, hurt and confused. And I watched him go.

First things, first: Are YOU offended?

"I must ask you first, are you offended by profanity and cursing? ...it's a common thing around here, but..."

Pause. A bit too long. "Yes?" an eyebrow raise

I knew this is where I'm supposed to say something, but what do you say to that? Do I like it? No. Do I enjoy it? No. Am I going to purse my lips when someone uses it? No... err... maybe... in a bit of a knee-jerk reaction?

But in all reality? The language they choose to use, is theirs, and it's not my place to play regulator to their conversation. I would prefer if they understood that I didn't enjoy, and would volunteer not to use profanity... but that takes a bit and accompanies the respect that comes with knowledge -not with me saying "That offends me, please DO NOT use it."

With that said; if you are at all offended by profanity, please stop reading this post now. I mean it.

No, I really do.


FUCK YOU!

Fuck your fucking head! I need a fucking paramedic! I'm dying... I don't want to die... fuck you! I'm fucking having a heart-attack here! NO, fuck you!

Shit... I'm a fag, man! I'm not going to fucking hurt you, dear! I'm fine! Well, I'm not fine, but you fucking know what I mean! I love all the ladies... I'm a faggot, man! Fuck this.

His eyes were glued to mine, and mine were glued right back.

The soft restraints were cinched on his wrists and ankles. His head was lifted off the gurney, veins jumping from his shoulders, neck and head. Bits of fresh green grass were scattered across his naked chest and abdomen -evidence of a previous argument with the police.

I wished that I could reach out and touch him, and that touch would somehow relay to him Love -the Love of Christ. Why didn't I?

He was loaded into the ambulance. A fireman leaned over my shoulder, "You might want to go un-fuck your head after this one." I turned and smiled; I love these brothers of EMS.

Five hours later: The time is about 0730. The fire chief strides into our office. "Fuck you!" He points. We all laugh.

Welcome, to Medic 1132.

*And now, I'm left here, knowing that I will click "publish post," but wondering if it is the right thing to do. Is my point taken? Is one exception made, only to let loose a flood? Is the love understood?

Girl meets God

I was recently asked to share "my testimony" in a small group of girls that I meet with every Sunday night. My curiosity about testimonies was pricked and for the past couple of weeks, I've been praying and fasting about it. Yeah, okay, so I wasn't fasting, and my prayer didn't involve any sack cloth... it was, however, sincere. I realized that it isn't my testimony at all, but God's (something my mind had been aware for a long time, but my heart had yet to grasp.)
So here it is, in all it's classic form:

Girl meets God. Knows little about God, but falls in love anyways. Makes a commitment. Tells everyone. Lets time go by. Realizes she also let God go by.
Girl wants to be with God.
Girl is angry at herself for ignoring God. Tries to punish herself, by letting more time go by. Is really sad.
God loves girl. Comforts girl. Girl loves God more then before. Tells God. They are happy.
Girl lets time go by. Realizes she also let God go by.
Girl wants to be with God.
Girl is angry at herself for ignoring God. Tries to punish herself, by letting more time go by. Is really sad.
God loves girl. God teaches girl about His love. Girl lets God forgive her. Girl loves God more then before. Tells God. They are happy.
Girl lets time go by...
God loves girl... Girl loves God more then before...
Girl lets time go by....
God loves girl...
repeat