Shot Through

A while back, our Knox pastor Chuck Jacob made a comment to the effect that, if you were hoping to avoid getting your hands dirty in the problems of life, then you probably have the wrong religion. In other words, that's what we do.

This was remarkable to me, because as a physician, sometimes I would be overcome with all the brokenness around me. Broken homes, broken bodies, broken minds, broken relationships. I just wanted to spend some time with someone who was whole. And though there is something to be said for the idea of a retreat, by and large, I wouldn't begrudge anyone the observation that "You're a doctor. What did you expect?"

And then, stunned at my own amazing connection, I realized that Jesus had made it thousands of years ago, and in fact I've heard it innumberable times. "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick." (Matt 9:12)

Shot Through

The world is shot through with holes
Riddled with bullets, haggard and old
It seemed to be fresh, the breezes new
But you put your nose down to the ground and find that it’s not true

I set out to heal what I thought was a leak
Loosened the dirt, my feet in a creek
Downstream a rapid that weathers me down
Shooting me through with current that threatens to drown

And it’s always been this way, whether I would let it be seen

And if you would bring light
You must dive into the darkness
before you find the tinder you can strike to break the night
And if you’d bring a balm
You must dress the wound
and bring your fingers to the skin

where you can pour the ointment on
For it is the sick
It is the broken that need a physician

It’s still hard to believe
That such a change can spread so quickly through the trees
From afar, the leaves are whole and new
But autumn knows that really they have been shot through

Never looking in, and never looking close would cause me to believe
That everything is void of scars, but never looking hard
Would let me think that all is whole
All the while the sun is shining in where all the gaps are

They’re not as they once were, tremble when breezes stir

And if you would bring love,

then come and wrap arms around the terrified
Who’ve caused the crimes you never have dreamed of
For you and I have been loved like this