(This is me opening my skull to give you access to my brain)
The first is pretty selfish: I love the atmosphere, the drama, the suspense, and the passion that abounds in medicine. The doctors, nurses, support staff, and patients have an irresistible pull on me that I'm not sure I shall ever be able to let go.
The second is a little deeper, morbid, and carries more support: I love death. Note that I do not love when others die, but there is an intense experiential witness that it conveys to me. This witness reminds me day after day, that this world is not all there is. One day you too Jeremy will be lying cold on a stretcher. You might be remembered by a tombstone for a while, but eventually your distant family will forget you ever existed. The accomplishments in life may put your name on some building, instrument, or company. But after a few hundred years few will know or even care about who you were.
My pastor when I was growing up burned in me a desire to carry with me throughout life an "eternal perspective." And so, what did I choose as a profession: one where I can camp out at the finish line and watch those runners as they finish their race. Sure, there are specialties in medicine such as dermatology and cosmetic plastic surgery that don't involve these "weighty matters." Those, my friends, are not for me. The first day I watched someone die was 8 years ago. It was sad, but beautiful. Since then it has been a constant stream of men and women, from 14 months to 98 years, who have passed from this earth in my hands. Every encounter comes as though I had never experienced it before. It's new and different every time and I'm confident that with perspective, that the future shall preserve its uniqueness.
Some say they went into medicine to "help people" to "change the face of healthcare" to "make a lot of money" or "because I love working with people." I submit that one of the reasons I went into medicine was to save my life from one of disillusionment, of false aggrandizement, of self-centered pleasure, and of self-glorification. Yes, I needed to be reminded that a body that can run a marathon, hands that can delicately slide a needle into the vein of a 14 day old, and a mind that can comprehend the afterload of one myosin head will one day, perhaps very soon, arrive at death's door.
The apostle Paul wrote, "but what things were gain to me, these I have counted loss for Christ. But indeed I also count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I suffered the loss of all things, and count them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having my own righteousness, which is from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which is from God by faith; that I might know him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death if, by any means, I might attain to the resurrection from the dead." (Philippians 3:7-11).
This indeed is my prayer, that these verses might be worked out in my life that when I see others die, I am reminded of my own frailty and that I might count my life and the worthless things it produces as rubbish for the sake of knowing and serving Christ, trusting in Him alone for eternal righteousness.
So the next time you want to avoid death or run the opposite direction. Consider your own death and Christ's call to bid us "come and die." So, next time you have a chance to spend a few moments with someone who is about to slip beyond the curtain of this life, take the opportunity. For it's hard to know what you are running towards if you never get a glimpse of the finish line.
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