My Will Be Done

The opening scene of Lethal Weapon 4 includes a man with a flame thrower, AK 47 assault rifle and a suit of bullet proof armor. Detectives Martin Riggs (Mel Gibson) and Roger Murtaugh (Danny Glover) decided to simply run over the assailant who hadn't yet detected their presence.


"What if he turns around" said Murtaugh?
"We're gonna will him not to," replied Riggs.
"We're gonna will him" retored Murtaugh?!
"Yep, we will...don't turn around," said Riggs now talking at the metal covered man.
Clasping hands, they both began chanting "don't turn around, don't turn around."


This scene is a funny mix between action and humor. Too bad their willing didn't work, because he did turn around, and they had to leap from the car into the rain as he fired at them.


While on call this past Saturday, I had a lot on my agenda that I wanted to do: reading, blogging, case study, etc. I came into the office much like Riggs and Murtaugh approaching the armored man, willing the pager not to go off.

"Don't go off pager. Stay quiet just for a while. Don't vibrate attached to my belt which causes my body instant anxiety. Don't go off. I will you not to page me."

BUUZZZZ!

Much like they leaped from the car in Lethal Weapon, I leaped from my seat very soon after arriving at the hospital. Throughout the day the pager thwarted my plans as I had approximately 20 calls (!) to attend to. The break down of those calls looks something like this:

2 deaths
2 Healthcare power of attorney consults
3 stroke assessments
2 emergency heart cathiderizations
3 traumas
2 code blues (patient's vitals crashing)
6 requested pastoral care visits.

I began around 9:00am, had time during the day to grab lunch and later dinner, but I didn't get to bed until 12:30am. A 15 hour work day. Whew.

I'm reminded of that old adage that says, "People make plans, God laughs." So my willing the pager to remain silent didn't work. I had a rough day. None of my own work got done. My will was not done. But I was also able to be a calm, caring, pastoral presence for many people that day who needed calmness in the midst of chaos. My hands were held during fragile intimate prayers, my eyes were looked into by one searching for hope, my advice was asked concerning tough medical decision, and I was hugged tightly by a heart broken new widow.

This list sounds more like what God has in mind for us: serving others, and in my context those who are in crisis. It's funny when I look back at my plan for that day versus what actually happened. My plans weren't satisfied; there were other needs to attend to. And when I think back to those hands holding mine, those eyes gazing at me and the arms embracing me, I'm sure glad I was available, glad I could offer a glimmer of hope, glad it wasn't my will being done.