My cold turned into an ear infection and pink eye this morning, all combined with laryngitis. All day yesterday, I asked the Lord to please heal me so I wouldn’t have to go to the doctor. If I had to go to the doctor, could God at least help me secure an appointment today? Well, God not only didn’t heal my pink eye, but He also didn’t provide a doctor’s appointment where I wanted to be seen. When I called the doctor, the intake person said to go to an urgent care clinic since absolutely no appointments were left for the day. Urgent care would mean a long wait—I just knew it. Ugh!
I felt so discouraged until I remembered my “sent” identity. Was God possibly arranging something and using my pink eye and clogged ear to connect me with someone who needed Jesus? The thought kept running through my mind that the real story is never the presenting problem. The real story is always that God is sending me. I’m where I am because someone there might not know Jesus.
Strangely, a doctor could see me right away at the clinic. When I asked him if I could teach at Penn State tomorrow, he told me I could after taking my drops and antibiotic today. This led to him asking me what I taught, why I liked it, and my history of earning a PhD in romantic poetry, the exact same major he had in college before becoming a doctor. Then I asked him, “Are you a church goer? I find that people who love 19th century poetry seem more open to spiritual things and God.” It turns out, he was going to church and so hungry to learn as much as he could about God. He asked me so many questions. Eventually, I found out about his wife and daughter. By the time I had filled my prescriptions, I had signed two books (one for his wife and one for the little girl who would loved This Seat’s Saved). The whole time, the doctor said, “This appointment was more for me than for you, obviously.”
Obviously.
The pink eye and sore ear no longer mattered. They became a source of delight that I’m now connected to a moment that touched eternity.
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