Last week I spent nine hours at Mayo Clinic. As a patient. Two weeks prior, I’d already received one devastating diagnosis. I wasn’t ready for another.
In the eleventh hour, multiple barriers threatened my Mayo appointments. I had sixty pages of documents to print out before my visit—when my printer stopped spooling. I’d just wrapped an afternoon with my IT guru when I got a text saying my ride to the clinic was in the hospital and possibly facing emergency surgery.
Thankfully, God provided another ride.
My marathon day of appointments started with a reception desk guy saying my insurance wasn’t in the system and I’d have to self-pay—even though a week prior, the system said it recognized my insurance. I handed the insolent young man printouts of both my insurance cards. He said he wasn’t authorized to enter that into the system and tossed my papers in a trash can.
That’s an egregious HIPAA privacy violation.
I wish I could say I contained myself.
I asked him a pointed question that should have snapped his brain to attention so he’d realize his folly. When that didn’t work, I informed him I most certainly would not self-pay. And I demanded—several decibels louder than necessary—that he fish my private insurance information out of his trash can.
IMO, he should have been pushing a broom. Not patient paperwork.
Right then, a billboard flashed in my brain: “Don’t offend God.”
I was the one being offended. I was within my rights to hold that guy accountable for his unbelievable lapse of judgment and lack of customer service.
I’ve worked in health care since I was eighteen. I KNOW how stupid his behavior was.
But I’ve been a Christian since I was sixteen.
Christians aren’t supposed to roll over at every wrong. Some battles need to be fought. But being a Christian means more than picking the right battles. It means responding to every circumstance in a way that pleases Jesus.
I missed an opportunity for that guy to see something different in me compared to the next ten John and Jane Does he checked in.
Instead, I was just another person in a sea of at least thirty people in a massive waiting room.
If I’d responded differently, he might have seen Jesus in me. Maybe not.
The point is Jesus saw how I responded, and it wasn’t God-honoring speech.
Maybe you’re thinking, “Lana, you’re too hard on yourself.” Humanistically, you’d be right. I fought a huge amount of angst and discomfort that day. I endured more than two dozen scans of my eyes and batteries of other scary tests. When I finally saw the subspecialist, he called in a colleague to do more tests. Then came blood work. I’m still waiting on results and next steps.
But God allowed this, so He has plans for it.
Honestly, I thrash against that truth. I wish He’d give me a break. Late-stage Lyme disease has created cascades of difficult-to-treat or incurable problems. It limits where I can work and what kind of work I can do.
The rest of my nine-hour day was a mixed bag of meeting incredibly kind staff and enduring indifferent healthcare workers.
Through it all, “Don’t offend God” stuck with me.
It took me a while to unlock what that means.
Jesus offended the religious leaders of His day because He called out their abuses of what God intended for them to be.
Yet He said nothing to those who abused Him during His SIX trials before He was crucified. Three before religious authorities: Annas, Caiaphas, the Sanhedrin. Three before Roman civil authorities: Herod Antipas (son of Herod the Great) and Pontius Pilate (twice).
The Bible says, “Don’t grieve the Holy Spirit” (Ephesians 4:30). We usually think of that in terms of dishonest, immoral, or unforgiving behavior. But destructive thoughts and speech have the same effect. They damage our fellowship with the Triune God. If we let that continue, it can “quench” (literally, “extinguish”) the Holy Spirit’s fire and leading in our life (1 Thessalonians 5:19).
An eye exam doesn’t create vision problems—it reveals them. In a similar way, offending God isn’t always obvious—until He reveals it with a billboard-sized message.
I thank God for everyone who prayed for me last week. Generic prayers. Specific prayers. Claims of Isaiah 26:3 over me. Prayers I wasn’t aware of. They sustained me through a very difficult day—and gave me the discernment to heed the Holy Spirit’s nudge when I needed it.
(How about you? Has that happened to you? If so, share it in the comments!)
Had enormous problems with my cataract surgeries this year, and the four subsequent attempts at eyeglasses (fifth time was finally successful). I wanted to throw a chair through their windows, but God kept telling me that patience obtains all things and that kept me sane (though I shed many tears at home). That was four months of not being able to write. Praising Him that I can get back to it now!
Praying for your vision journey!
Thank you, Laurie! Praise God you can get back to writing!! The way this all started for me was with 3 botched attempts to make a new Rx for eyeglasses. Three doctors later, it led to this. I know I’m where I need to be with this subspecialist. We know what’s going on, but still not why. Knowing your “enemy” is half the battle, right? Many blessings to you!
Such a powerful post, Lana! Thank you for your honesty.
Sometimes it seems we need to find those five pebbles and pick up the sling but still have a smile on our face.