A Stitch Sublime
On the medical drama Code Black, third-year resident Dr. Angus Leighton is played with a runt-of-the-litter, likable quality that belies the elite nature of the group of emergency physicians in training of which he is a part. Therefore, the character is as surprised as the viewer when a moment of quick thinking and exemplary action positions Dr. Leighton for a surgical opportunity he did not seek.
When he makes an error in the operating room, Leighton reverts to his more familiar form. He backs away from the table so that his attending, Dr. Will Campbell, can take over.
Dr. Campbell, with the cool confidence more typical of surgeons, barks that Leighton should never back away from the table and its opportunities again. On follow-up, the attending hands the chastened resident a pair of blue jeans. Practice your stitching, he says, until you can do it with your eyes closed. Practice your stitching until your fingers bleed.
The next exchange is worth the buildup. Dr. Leighton pleads, how long am I going to be punished? Forever? There is no punishment is the logical reply. It's the job, Dr. Campbell equates without rancor.
I'm fixated on this dialogue in part because verse-by-verse progression to Luke 17:9 the same morning prepared my heart for multimedia reinforcement. Explaining that servants, or employees, or disciples should expect to be second, at best, Jesus says of the master in His parable who has eaten before the servant who waited on him, "“Does he thank that servant because he did the things that were commanded him? I think not."
Watching somebody else serve, or as Jesus did, putting ourselves in the master's or the attending's position, we don't notice anything untoward. Yet, as soon as we are in a situation where obedience to authority or expectation isn't immediately reinforced with gratitude, our flesh begins to chafe – at least in thought. We want thanks, if not acclamation, as a drop or two in our deep well of need for approval.
Like Dr. Leighton, we are all too aware of our own real inadequacy, guilt before God, in fact. This guilt is still in place if we haven't trusted Christ and His righteousness, and its lingering impact remains even if, like Dr. Leighton, we are selected for a new role. The first confirmation that we don't fully fit the new identity sends us spiraling. We back away from its opportunities. Worse, we assume anything unpleasant we experience in a fallen world is punishment for a specific misdeed.
Is the work God assigns for the moment obscure? Is it repetitive? Does it look a lot like the work we did before we were called to a new identity in Him, or maybe even less esteemed? If so, we revert to our old script and assume we are being punished.
The Great Physician, the Great Attending Physician sees and says more clearly. However ordinary today's tasks seem, however like yesterday's, however far from the most glamorous, esteemed self we can imagine in our mind's eye, the tasks of today have ennobling purpose. However easy it is to connect what is less than desirable in our narrative-starved, cause-and-effect conditioned thinking to our latest setback, the truth patterns of God's work will only be visible in retrospect.
For now, we can thank God for each stitch in His work in us, and each stitch we get to sow in the inch by inch furtherance of that work. There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ (Romans 8:1), not in final judgment and not in today's twists and turns. The skills we perfect by doing and redoing are yet more affirmation of His patience and vision for us.
When he makes an error in the operating room, Leighton reverts to his more familiar form. He backs away from the table so that his attending, Dr. Will Campbell, can take over.
Dr. Campbell, with the cool confidence more typical of surgeons, barks that Leighton should never back away from the table and its opportunities again. On follow-up, the attending hands the chastened resident a pair of blue jeans. Practice your stitching, he says, until you can do it with your eyes closed. Practice your stitching until your fingers bleed.
The next exchange is worth the buildup. Dr. Leighton pleads, how long am I going to be punished? Forever? There is no punishment is the logical reply. It's the job, Dr. Campbell equates without rancor.
I'm fixated on this dialogue in part because verse-by-verse progression to Luke 17:9 the same morning prepared my heart for multimedia reinforcement. Explaining that servants, or employees, or disciples should expect to be second, at best, Jesus says of the master in His parable who has eaten before the servant who waited on him, "“Does he thank that servant because he did the things that were commanded him? I think not."
Watching somebody else serve, or as Jesus did, putting ourselves in the master's or the attending's position, we don't notice anything untoward. Yet, as soon as we are in a situation where obedience to authority or expectation isn't immediately reinforced with gratitude, our flesh begins to chafe – at least in thought. We want thanks, if not acclamation, as a drop or two in our deep well of need for approval.
Like Dr. Leighton, we are all too aware of our own real inadequacy, guilt before God, in fact. This guilt is still in place if we haven't trusted Christ and His righteousness, and its lingering impact remains even if, like Dr. Leighton, we are selected for a new role. The first confirmation that we don't fully fit the new identity sends us spiraling. We back away from its opportunities. Worse, we assume anything unpleasant we experience in a fallen world is punishment for a specific misdeed.
Is the work God assigns for the moment obscure? Is it repetitive? Does it look a lot like the work we did before we were called to a new identity in Him, or maybe even less esteemed? If so, we revert to our old script and assume we are being punished.
The Great Physician, the Great Attending Physician sees and says more clearly. However ordinary today's tasks seem, however like yesterday's, however far from the most glamorous, esteemed self we can imagine in our mind's eye, the tasks of today have ennobling purpose. However easy it is to connect what is less than desirable in our narrative-starved, cause-and-effect conditioned thinking to our latest setback, the truth patterns of God's work will only be visible in retrospect.
For now, we can thank God for each stitch in His work in us, and each stitch we get to sow in the inch by inch furtherance of that work. There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ (Romans 8:1), not in final judgment and not in today's twists and turns. The skills we perfect by doing and redoing are yet more affirmation of His patience and vision for us.
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