My brother came down with Hepatitis when we lived in Kenya. He was seriously ill.
As a part of the preventative measures we all had to go to the doctor's office to get a a gamma-globulin shot. If you have ever spent any time around me, you will know that I hate needles just about more than anything else on planet earth. A large part of this disdain stems from my hospitalization in Nairobi Hospital as a child.
My appendix became enflamed and I had to have it removed as a child. Unfortunately, my veins were so small at the time that I couldn't handle the IV. The IV needle popped out so many times a day that I began to fear the nurse and anything associated with the medical field. In later years it became so bad that I would often start to faint just by seeing a needle.
Back to the hepatitis incident. We went to see the physician who had his practice housed in an old colonial style home in the heart of Nairobi. I was mortified about getting a shot. Dad knew my dread from needles so he bravely volunteered to go first assuring me that I had nothing to worry about. I had been panicking the whole way to the doctor's office and dad's offer calmed me down as I watched him boldly enter Dr. Forbes' consultation room. Just before he fully disappeared into the office, he called out at me: "see Stevie nothing to worry about."
There was just one small oversight on his part. He forgot to close the door behind him. It was a ajar some few inches. As my dad started rolling up his sleeve, Dr. Forbes laughed and shook his head. He then said, "Not in the arm, in the rump." My little heart sank. Dad's did too; I just didn't know it until several weeks later.
The next thing I heard was one of the loudest hollers I have ever heard in my entire life. If you have been around my dad you know that he doesn't holler about much in this life. He's usually very reserved and quiet. This was more than enough information for me. I bolted like a a little lightning bolt. Not just out of the waiting room, but out of the old colonial house. And I didn't stop there. I ran right past the guard at the gate. At full speed I sprinted down the driveway towards the main road. Though I had never been in this part of Nairobi before, I didn't care. I had to get away from the doctor and his needle.
My mom called out in alarm. "Stevie!"
Dad emerged from the consultation room. "Where is he?"
Mom pointed.
Dad came out hobbling. He is quite the runner, but with the effects of the heavy gamma-globlin vaccine still in his gluteus maximus the advantage was in my favor. I sprinted. He hollered. "Stevie stop. It didn't hurt that bad I promise." I accelerated.
The Hepatitis never did spread did to anyone else in the family. Dad's leg stopped hurting. And I have been an avid runner ever since.
What's the lesson? Stay away from needles at all possible costs! Just teasing.
How about? Fear is a terrible thing. Yeah, that's more to the point. The psychological dread that I put myself through was horrendous. When dad finally caught me, he patiently calmed me down. He kept asking me to trust him. It was tough, especially after what I had just witnessed. Within an hour or so, though, I was able to say yes and get my shot. It wasn't nearly as bad as I had convinced myself it would be. And it did keep me from getting sick.
While the parallel isn't exact, I see how many people live in fear of saying yes to God. They somehow mistrust Him. His nature. His character. And His heart. They are sure He's going to make their lives miserable. That people are going to make fun of them. That they won't measure up. That He will leave them along the way.
I haven't found this to be the case. I won't lie and say that since I said yes to Him that somehow living for God has always been easy, but it has always been worth it. I have never walked alone. And I have learned that His will for my life is good. It is pleasing. And it is perfect. See Romans 12:2. Be careful when fear says to run away from saying yes to God.
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