A few weeks ago I had the privilege of accompanying a friend to the Mayo Clinic.  When I first got there I was amazed and appalled.  When we pulled up to one of the hospitals in the sprawling complex, there were 60-75 people in wheelchairs waiting for transport.  Everywhere we went there were sick people — people shuffling in despair, crying in agony, or waiting in line with anticipation.  They even give waiting patients pagers and some departments flash the patient’s name on a marquis when it’s their turn for services.  After the initial amazement, I thought, “Get me out of here!  I just want to go where there are ‘normal’ people — people who don’t look sick.”

I could not help but think of the many times in my life when I have been struggling with addiction, depression, or broken relationships, and I have had similar thoughts, “Get me out of here!  I just want to go where I look ‘normal’ — where I don’t look sick.”

After spending a few days among the sick and their caregivers, I lay in bed feeling the pain of living in a world where our bodies get broken, our relationships are broken, and our hearts break into a million little pieces.  And then God’s Spirit broke through — and I remembered the Gospel.

Addicted, sick, depressed, alone — it doesn’t matter.  God’s mercies know no end.  He lives amongst the sick, the needy, the crippled.  He must — because He lives in me.  My wheelchair looks different, but I am still waiting for a miracle.  A different kind of healing.

“It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.  I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”  Mark 2:17

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