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It was my unfortunate responsibility to tell Susan (not her real name) that her pregnancy test was positive.  She was a senior at a local high school and the head cheerleader.  She was an honor student headed for college and planning to become a pediatrician.  Now she was weeping silently in my office.  I began to encourage her as best I could as her mother sat stone faced watching the two of us. Knowing that she came from a church going family, I began to encourage her by saying that God would give her grace to be a good mother and to handle the difficulties that she would face.  As I was saying that although this unplanned pregnancy would definitely change the direction of her life it would not ruin her life, her mother suddenly threw up her hand and said to me, “Stop.  She is not going to have this baby.  You are going to refer us to the abortion clinic.”

As you can imagine, I was stunned.  I knew that this mother and her husband were churchgoing people.  I knew that her husband was a deacon and Sunday school teacher.  I quietly began to point out that such an action would be a violation of their Christian convictions, whereupon, Susan’s mother stood up and quickly left the room.  Susan began to sob uncontrollably.  I comforted her as best I could and then said, “You need to go home with your mother, but I think you need to talk to your father about this.”

What just happened in that exam room? What happened was a sacrifice of personal convictions.  This Christian woman allowed difficult circumstances to dictate her theology rather than allowing her theology to dictate her response to difficult circumstances. Her Christian belief became hostage to a difficult life situation.  Her Christian convictions were sacrificed on the altar of personal convenience.  It simply was not convenient for her teenage daughter to be pregnant at that time. We call this situational ethics or moral relativism.  Suddenly, this mom’s sense of moral right and wrong was no longer set in stone (like the ten commandments which say “thou shalt not kill”) but was a relative thing subject to the whim of circumstances. Please, don’t misunderstand me.  I am not minimizing the emotional difficulty of this particular situation.  However, no matter how desperate the circumstances surrounding an unplanned pregnancy, nothing justifies the killing of an innocent, unborn child. We Christians say that our decisions are informed by the scriptures.  If so, then we need to be consistent and not full of double standards.  If we say that the life of the unborn is sacred, created in the image of God, then we should behave that way even in the difficult circumstances.  We should allow our theological convictions to determine our response to difficult social dilemmas even when our teenage daughter or granddaughter is involved with an unplanned pregnancy.

Seventeen years later, Susan came back in to my office with her pretty blue eyes and her blonde hair.  She brought with her a 6-foot 2 inch tall 17-year-old son for a football physical.  He was all knees and elbows with a big lantern jaw and I could already tell he was going to be one of those men who would need to shave twice a day. After I completed his exam, she came back into the room and sat in the exact same chair where her mother has sat 17 years prior.  She looked at me and said, “Dr. Jackson do you remember…”. Our eyes connected and we both remembered the titanic spiritual battle that occurred in that very exam room 17 years before for the life of her unborn son.  Tears formed in our eyes and then we both began to weep for a moment.  I just nodded and said, “Yes ma’am, I remember. I’ll always remember.”

Later, I wondered what that 17-year-old boy thought was going on between his momma and that red neck country doctor!

My sixth child, a boy was born with a cartilage deficiency in his airway called laryngotracheobronchomalacia.(Try saying that three times fast with a wad of bubble gum in your mouth.)  His airway would collapse every time he cried or breathed hard or sucked on a bottle.  He required a tracheotomy, a bi-pap machine, supplemental oxygen, a feeding tube, tracheal suction, and round-the-clock nursing care for the first nine months of his life.  All of this was provided in our living room which looked like a mini – ICU.

One day as I was sitting in the living room/ICU watching over my little lamb, I could hear my wife in the kitchen beseeching the four older daughters to help her clean the kitchen after supper.  The daughters were giving their mother a hard time and talking back, a very serious no-no in our household.  My wife simply raised her voice and called out my name, “Robert.”  All of a sudden, I heard dishes clattering and little feet running to obey.  My wife stepped to the doorway and looked at me in amazement at this quick transformation in their behavior simply by calling out to me to which I responded, “Darling, there’s power in the name!”

Now, I’m not trying to be disrespectful, but rather to illustrate a point. You dads out there must realize that you possess an innate, God-given authority that your children reverence and respect.  This authority is independent of age, size, and voice pitch.  I have a friend who is a squirrely little dude with an embarrassingly high-pitched voice who rules his household like an Army general.  So bulk and a bass voice are not necessary to manage one’s household well.  What is required is a willingness to take advantage of a God-given position and privilege.  What is required is determination to be actively involved in the life of your children rather than being passive and indifferent.

A lady in my church once told me that my children loved me desperately.  That warmed the cockles of my heart.  Then my wife told me that my daughters were occasionally afraid of me, to which I responded “They better be, that they may live long upon the earth.”  You see, balancing love and discipline is one of the hardest things that we dads do.  If we discipline our children without communicating adequate affection, we appear to be condemning.  If we love our children without disciplining them and speaking truth into their lives, then we are guilty of becoming compromisers overlooking their misdeeds.  It is a delicate balancing act that every dad has to perfect.  Sometimes we do well, sometimes we do poorly.  We have to embrace the opportunity like Michael Jordan wanting the ball with 10 seconds left in a tie game saying to ourselves, “I’m the dad, I’m the man.  This is my house, these are my children.  I relish the responsibility.”

And you know what’s so amazing?  My kids think I’m the greatest dad of all.  No matter how many times I mess up, they still love me and extend grace to me.  Even if I sin blatantly, they forgive me.  Of course, if I confess  my faults honestly, it helps considerably and they respect me more (so does my queen).  No matter how much I may fail in other venues of life, my kids still think I’m cool beans.  And I do not intend to lose the opportunity to be the leader in my home.  I do intend to “raise my children in the way that they ought to go, so that when they are old they will not depart from it.”  With nine little lambs  looking to me for leadership, I don’t plan to drop the ball. ( “Yes, I said nine.  And, no, I didn’t miss that class in medical school.  I do know where children come from.”)

So, all you dads out there, be the king in your castle.  Be the spiritual leader in your home.  Embrace the unique privilege and position that God has given you as Dad, the family shepherd.  Shrug off passivity and actively pursue the delicate balancing of love and discipline in your home.  Take the ball, dribble twice, and take the last shot.  You were made for this moment in time.  And remember, there is power in the name.

Oh yeah, my little ICU baby, is now 17 years old and doing well.  He is handsome, like his daddy, with big lady killing dimples and an awesome smile.  The Lord be praised!

My fellow medical students used to joke around in medical school saying that “pain is not a problem unless it hurts.”  To a lot of my patients, pain is no joking matter.  They live with chronic, unrelenting pain of one sort or another.  (I’m not talking about your spouses.)  In fact, we medical doctors now consider pain the fifth vital sign after weight, temperature, blood pressure, and pulse.  You may notice nurses and physicians asking you if you have pain and can you grade it on a scale of 1 to 10.

Susan (not her real name) is one such patient who has trigeminal neuralgia, a type of nerve pain in the face that can be quite severe.  She cannot stand for anything, even the wind or her hair, to brush against the hypersensitive areas of her face which causes unbearable pain.  Eating or brushing her teeth triggers the pain.  She has been to multiple specialists and tried numerous medications to no avail.  The side effects of the usual treatment and medication were quite alarming, such as sudden syncope (passing out) or excessive sedation.  She even had a surgical release of the nerve in her brain which caused months of increased pain but, unfortunately, no decrease in her baseline pain.  She now barely survives on large doses of narcotic pain reliever which she despises taking, but every time she tries to stop the medication the pain becomes unbearable.

As you can imagine, Susan has become increasingly depressed over time.  She got to the point to where she cried all the time; she didn’t want to leave her home; her husband and children had to do all the household chores and the cooking.  She began to let her personal appearance decline.  She often expressed suicidal thoughts saying she couldn’t imagine living her life in that kind of pain for much longer.  This prompted referrals to a psychologist and a pain medicine specialist.  None of this changed matters much in Susan’s life.  I got to where I dreaded seeing her, partly because I had nothing more to offer her medically, and partly because she was always negotiating for more medication than I was comfortable prescribing as a family physician.

Then, suddenly, everything changed in Susan’s life.  She came to see me for a regularly scheduled visit.  She was attractively dressed.  She was smiling, and she was upbeat in her mood.  I immediately inquired into the source of this dramatic change in her demeanor.  Susan replied that in the midst of her despair she had stayed up all night recently reading her Bible and praying, crying out to God for some kind of relief.  She said that sometime in the wee hours of the morning she realized God had done something to transform her outlook.  She finally went to sleep for an hour or two.  When she awoke, the transformation was still there.  She called her parents in excitement to tell them that God had delivered her from her depression, something antidepressant medication had not done thus far.  All of her extended family and friends immediately began to notice a huge difference in her attitude and her appearance.

Interestingly,  Susan and I had held hands and prayed together over her situation many times over many years as she had dealt with the chronic pain of trigeminal neuralgia.  Nevertheless, the depression and hopelessness overwhelmed her.  She had been incapacitated by a combination of pain and depression and been spiritually cast down.  Suddenly, something had happened in her spiritual composition that affected her emotional status.  Take note, however, that the physical pain was unchanged.  This was a remarkable transformation to behold.  She was quick to give God the credit for this amazing change in her outlook.  I have to admit that God had done for her what doctors, medications, and she herself could not do.  I also have to admit that her situation was so difficult that I really had nothing to offer her except a listening ear, a compassionate heart, and a desperate prayer on her behalf every time she came to see me.

When I last saw her, she was smiling, pleasant, and a delight to be around.  Her physical pain was still an issue but her entire countenance had changed because her heart had been changed.  I’m so glad there is a God in heaven who can do things for my patients that physicians and medication can not do.  Do you need a touch from the Great Physician?  Does He need to apply the  healing Balm of Gilead to a hurt in your heart that nobody else has been able to heal.  Maybe you need to have a “come to Jesus”  all night prayer meeting with an open Bible like Susan did.  Trust me, there is a God in heaven, and He still does for us what none but God can do.

Beula Mae and Bruno came into my office one fine summer afternoon. She was dressed up all prim and proper and sat in a chair by the door. He was still dressed in his work clothes with the greasy mechanic stain evident on his fingers as they were held rigidly across his chest as he leaned against the exam table. They both glared at each other as smoke came out of her ears and his lower lip pooched out like a mule eating briers. I knew this would be an interesting conversation “So, what can I do for you two today?” The answer fairly shot out of her mouth. “He won’t help me around the house. He won’t help in the kitchen. He won’t help with the children. He won’t even pick up his own mess.” Bruno glared at her for several seconds before he replied, “I don’t do squaw work.” I said, “Excuse me?” He stared at me for a moment and then replied, “My daddy taught me to cut grass, work the garden, and fix things. I don’t wear no apron.” To which I replied, “So you only do brave Indian warrior work, right?” Bruno stared at me for a moment before the light came on. He then looked at Beula Mae while pointing at me and said,” Yeah, just what I’ve been trying to say!” I added quickly that most husbands felt the same way as a look of triumph came over Bruno’s face. Beula Mae deflated before my very eyes convinced that I was agreeing with her husband. Then, as I clapped Bruno on the back, I said, “I hate to rain on your parade, but there is a problem with that line of thinking.” With a look of suspicion, he said, “yeah, what’s that?” Leaning back on my stool and clasping my knee, I said, “ I know that both of you are churchgoing folks, right?” Both of them nodded slowly. “I know that you are serious about walking in the light.” Both of them nodded once again. “The problem with that line of reasoning is that it is entirely unbiblical. Jesus said that he came not to be served, but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many. He is the example that we all desire to follow. He is the King of all the nations, and yet He made himself of no reputation and ultimately died as our sacrificial lamb. If He would do that, why can’t you and I wash a few dishes and pick up a few dirty clothes. Bruno, you are the spiritual leader in your home. You should set the example of servant leadership and sacrificial love. Do not allow your wife to out serve you. Besides that, I have learned over the years that the more I wear an apron, the more loving I receive from the Queen of my house!” Bruno looked at me with pleading eyes.” Doc, you don’t know what you’re asking.” I replied, “Not me, Jesus.” I continued, “More than that, if you don’t shape up and learn to be a servant in your home, you’re going to be doing the brave Indian warrior work and the squaw work all by your self because Beula Mae, here, is gonna walk out on your selfish Indian warrior behind. Then you can cut grass and wash the dishes all by yourself. And I’m warning you, when that happens, even the sheriff can’t make her stay!” Beula Mae smiled and nodded emphatically. Bruno swallowed hard and said,” I see.” Beula Mae with a twinkle said, “I think he would look sexy in an apron.” Bruno turned red as a vine ripe tomato and said, “Baby, how many times have I told you not to talk like that?”

The Prideful Plumber

I stood staring glumly at the leaking bathroom faucet.  I doubted seriously that I had the plumbing wherewithal with which to fix it.  My wife then goaded me by saying “Brian would fix that.” Brian was my engineer handyman friend who could fix just about anything.  Well, I puffed out my chest, stuck out my chin, and pride entered in.  Two trips to Lowe’s and six hours later the slow leak had turned into a gusher.  I stood staring at the catastrophe with my eyes glazed over when my wife walked up behind me and said, with her hands on her hips, “I don’t know what ever in the world possessed you to think that you could repair that.  Besides, if you make us late for the reception I will be very angry.” I suddenly had a vision of me trying to explain to the police detective how my wife could possibly have drowned in 6 inches of water while fully clothed in that  aforementioned bathtub.

You might assume that a significant measure of pride and such plumbing ineptitude could not exist in the normal human being.  Some one as unskilled at plumbing would be naturally humble, right?  Wrong.  I assure you that incompetence and pride can coexist and ignore all logic.

Winston Churchill once chided one of his political opponents by saying, “He’s a modest little man with a lot to be modest about.”  He then continued by saying “I’m a proud little man with a lot to be modest about.  And I continually provide my family and friends with fresh discoveries of my inadequacies and examples of my arrogance.” Oh, stick a spiritual dagger in my heart.  I need to copy that and stick it on my bathroom mirror so I have to look at it every day.  Now, don’t you go looking at me so smug, because I know that every one of you have had similar episodes of fix- it incompetence around your own homes.  And, just like me, you provide your family and friends with fresh discoveries of your inadequacies and examples of your arrogance every day.  It would not hurt your humility quotient one bit to put Churchill’s quote on your bathroom mirror, either.

The famous theologian, John Stott, once said “At every stage of our Christian development and in every sphere of our Christian discipleship, pride is the greatest enemy and humility our greatest friend.” None of us are immune to the blinding, logic defying effects of pride.  The real issue is not, if pride exists in our hearts, it is where pride exists and how it is being experienced.

Interestingly, the Bible states that Moses was the most humble man that ever lived.  Now, how do you reckon that a young man raised in the pomp and privilege of pharaoh’s palace became the most humble man that ever lived? You might think he became that way by spending 40 years in the back desert of Midian squeezing sand between his toes and listening to sheep bleat as a shepherd.  However, the truth of the matter is that Moses’ humility came after he met God face to face on the mountain after receiving the 10 Commandments.  When he saw the holy God in all His glory and recognized his own sinfulness and wretchedness by comparison, Moses was never the same again.  His countenance was changed, his heart was changed, his entire life was transformed.  He became the most humble man who ever lived.  Such was the impact upon his life of seeing God face to face.

How can we rid ourselves of the great enemy called pride and gain some of the humility that Moses demonstrated?  Well, we cannot go up on the mountain to see God’s face the way that Moses did.  But we can look into the mirror of God’s Holy Word to catch a glimpse of His glory and to understand more clearly who we are by comparison.  Don’t be so prideful or fearful or lazy that you don’t spend some time every day looking into the mirror of God’s Word.  Remember, “God resists the proud, but he gives grace to the humble.”

After all the humility that I gained from this plumbing experience, I decided to write a book about humility.  It is entitled, “The Ten Most Humble Men in the World and How I Met the Other Nine.” Just kidding, just kidding!