The Urgency For Treatment

A few years ago, Sara and I had a scare.

It was a Wednesday evening and my chest had been hurting on and off all day.  What's worse, I was having troubling breathing.  Just to take the stairs left me extremely winded.  Feeling exhausted, I confided in Sara about how I felt.  I was run down, extremely tired, having trouble breathing and my chest was pounding.

She didn't hesitate to make a call.  Even though it was a church night, we were going to the hospital.  RIGHT NOW.  

As I got into the car, it wasn't even a debate.  I wasn't stopping by the office or lining up a lesson for a substitute.  I was going straight to the emergency room.  No passing Go.  No collecting $200. 

When I got to the ER, I was immediately taken back to a room.  No waiting in chairs for an hour trying to get an empty bed.  Within five minutes, I was on a gurney, my shirt was off, and instruments of various types were being hooked up to me.  They measured heart rate, blood pressure, breathing and everything else.  Doctors, nurses and other medical personnel weaved in and out of the room, interpreted readings, asked me questions and scribbled notes.  A rad tech snapped a portal x-ray of my chest.  Nurses drew blood for tests.  Cardiologists dropped by to weigh-in on the situation.

For 90 minutes I sat there, strapped to machines, answering questions and seeking answers.  Finally, a doctor came into the room.  I wasn't having a heart attack.  I hadn't had one in the past.  What I had was a pulled muscle over my diaphragm.  It caused pain in my chest and made it difficult to breathe.  I apparently overdid yard work the day before, causing the discomfort I currently felt.  

I was released within minutes and sent home, encouraged to follow up with my family physician.

What struck me about the situation was at no time was their hesitation.  When it seemed like my life might be in danger from a heart attack, my wife didn't stop to consider the choice.  The emergency room attendants didn't ask me to fill out forms and wait in a chair.  When I got to a room, I didn't sit there waiting on doctors and nurses to arrive.  I was treated upon reaching the bed.  No one hesitated when symptoms of a heart attack were present.

So why do we hesitate when symptoms of sin rear their head?  We can easily recognize when someone doesn't have a relationship with Jesus.  Sometimes they even show us their willingness to listen to the Gospel.  And yet, we pause.  We hesitate.  We fear sharing the Gospel because they may get mad or reject it.  

We rationalize it.  I have time.  I will build a relationship first.  I don't need to do it right now.  

When someone enters a hospital with chest pains, medical personnel have a sense of urgency.  We, as believers, must feel the same way when encountering lost individuals.  We cannot wait.  We must share the truth now.  We don't know how long we have.

In Mark 6, Jesus sends out his disciples, but he limits their resources.  No bags, no extra clothes, no money and no advanced reservations.  They would go with what they have and share the story of Jesus.  They would depend upon God to provide for their needs and opportunities to share the truth.  He wanted them working urgently.

He still calls us to do the same thing.  We are to urgently share the story of Jesus.  We don't have much time.  A heart attack could come at any moment.  Doctors know that.  That's why they're urgent.  Why aren't we?

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