Tuesday, November 11, 2014

READY, SET, GO!

The nurse instructed me to stuff my street clothes and shoes into what looked like a white garbage bag provided by the hospital. I wondered, Will I ever wear my clothes again?

“Ready?” she asked cheerfully from outside the curtain.

I took a deep breath, pulled aside the curtain, and emerged from my preparatory cubicle for better or worse. I stood unsteady in my terry cloth slippers with rubber soles. No way am I ready for what is coming!

Likewise, I will stand before God, my Creator and Judge, on that Final Reckoning Day. I blink. What if it is today? For that event I should be ready. My gown on That Day will also be provided. That garment won't have pockets either. I'll leave everything behind. “Just as I am without one plea, but that Thy blood was shed for me. O Lamb of God, I come, I come.”

I'll either be clothed in the righteousness of Jesus, my Redeemer, or I'll be spiritually naked, without covering. That garment can't be earned or deserved, and I can't buy it at the door. It is made of clean, white linen, and I have to reserve it in advance. The garment God gives to those who belong to Him has a “whosoever” designer label, and one size fits all.

I wrote this book from the viewpoint of my Christian faith. I believe my loving Heavenly Father planned my hospital adventure on purpose. It wasn't a random happening. Although it appeared negative and harmful and painful to my mortal body, God intended it for my spiritual growth and for His glory. I certainly didn't ask for it or thought I needed it; apparently the Lord thought I did.

Without personal faith in Jesus Christ I would be afraid to go through any illness or march into any hospital adventure. In fact, to live day by day without being “in Christ” is to take unnecessary eternal risks. A life without faith in God is hazardous to the health of both our soul and body. We don't need to walk through illness or anywhere else alone. God is with us on life's journey and that includes our trip on the gurney as we are wheeled into the O.R.
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An excerpt from HOSPITAL GOWNS DON'T HAVE POCKETS!
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