My two sons (part 1)

Last Wednesday, as my nine-year old son lay on a hospital bed about to go into surgery to remove his appendix, our church’s children’s minister stood at his bedside. She was chatting with him and comforting him in the moments before he would be carted off to that mysterious and unknown place known as the O.R. Before she left, she asked if there was anything she could do for him. Pausing for only a second, Matthew said, “Can you pray for me?”

Having an appendectomy is an unpleasant and scary thing for a young child. First there is the physical pain in the lower right area of the stomach. Then there are the tests in the hospital, including the dreaded contrast dye that must be drunk prior to a CAT scan—not exactly a chocolate milkshake. The child must also endure various shots with needles—again, not a favorite activity. But on top of all this is the fear of having surgery. It became apparent to Matthew early on that he was going to require an operation, and he could not help but overhear some of the conversations between the doctors and his parents regarding incisions, the process of removing the appendix, being put to sleep during the procedure, etc. He was scared.

Throughout our long evening and even longer day at the hospital (two hospitals, as a matter of fact—he had to be transferred to the local children’s hospital for the surgery), one thing that I noticed is that prayer was at the forefront of Matthew’s thoughts. Before asking the children’s minister to pray for him, he had asked his mother and me the same thing throughout our time at the hospitals. To me, Matthew’s initiative in taking his fears to the Lord in prayer indicates a spiritual awareness and sincerity beyond that of a typical nine-year old.

Let me put it this way. We all face crises in life. It’s sort of where “the rubber meets the road,” in our Christian walk, so to speak. It is during these times when, if you are a Christian, you must ask yourself, “Is all this stuff I believe about God really true? Or do I simply pay lip service to it?” You see, it’s possible—and sometimes even easy—to go to church every week, study the Bible, memorize Scripture, give to the poor, sing in the choir, and do a hundred other “Christian” things, but not really believe in Him at the very core of your soul. Is there really a God who made this whole universe? Was there really a man named Jesus who lived, and died, and rose from the dead about two thousand years ago? Is there really such a thing as a “Holy Spirit” who lives inside of me? When things are going well, it is easy to answer “Yes, of course.” But when crises arise, we are given the opportunity to put into practice our stated beliefs. It’s like the difference between, on the one hand, understanding how a parachute works, and, on the other hand, jumping out of a plane with one strapped to your back. Jumping out of the plane shows that you really believe it.

Matthew made it through this routine surgery fine, and bounced back rather quickly, as most children do. And as I have reflected on this episode over the past few days, I have felt excitement, encouragement, and exhilaration over what I witnessed in my young son. Matthew is a Christian, and does a whole bunch of appropriate “Christian stuff”: Sunday School, Bible Drill, prayer before meals and bedtime, etc. But, in the face of fear, he realized that all this “stuff” points to what is really true. It’s not just a bunch of good works that he is obligated to do.

In addition, I wholeheartedly believe that God is “up to something” very significant in this young boy’s life. Since his birth (details in “My Story” portion of this blog), I have seen God’s hand on him at many times and in many ways. Seeing his childlike faith-in-action during his appendectomy is just one more incident where I see a very special, God-honoring life taking shape. It will be one of the immense joys of my life to see what is in store.