I saw something in the doctor’s office yesterday that hurt my heart.
It was late in the afternoon, the physician’s schedules had backed up, and the waiting room was full of tired, slightly impatient patients.
I noticed a man enter the door in a motorized wheelchair, somewhat frenzied, as if he might be running late. He hurried up to the front desk, pulled out an assortment of papers, phones, pens, etc., and worked hard to give the receptionist what she had asked for.
In his haste, he dropped something that landed beneath his wheelchair. Though I was seated a distance away, I could see him struggling to reach it. Exerting more effort than would be required of those without a disability, I could sense his fretfulness and exhaustion.
The part of the scene that struck me most than was the apathy of those who observed him. Not one person seated anywhere near him moved to offer help. They simply stayed in their chairs, continued to flip through their magazines, or awkwardly looked away.
I think I found this so unsettling because I am just not used to seeing people respond like those folks in the waiting room. I’m used to you. Busy women, with more than enough on your plates, yet you don’t hesitate to offer meals, hugs, childcare, prayer, phone calls, cards, smiles, and so much more, to anyone God puts in your path.
Knowing and watching you is such a privilege, because you love the way Christ designed His church to love.
As I reached down to hand the man the phone he had dropped, I noticed his face. I wish he hadn’t looked so surprised. I wish the rest of the world understood what you understand...
"The world would be a changed place if every Christian attended to the sorrows
that are plain before him." (Maclaren)
Shepherds, would you share with each other ways you have watched your groups come alongside one another this year?
