Thoughts about Church: Medical Technicians or Post-Op Nurses?

The male medical tehnician took my arm in his hands and began unwinding the elastic bandage that held the splint tight to my wrist protecting the surgery site. His manner was rather abrupt and matter of fact as if he didn't realize that this area might be tender and sore, needing to be handled gingerly. He was very skilled at what he did, but there was an absence of consideration as to my comfort level. He had a job to do and he was getting it done. After doing the task, he abruptly left the room and said someone would be in to see me shortly.

Gazing at my exposed, stitched, bruised and swollen hand I had such a sense of being so alone and wounded. (There weren't even magazines in the room to distract myself.) Everything was all very clinical; the job was getting done, yet I felt so vulnerable. I even told myself, 'Cheryl, this is silly, you should be just fine...nothing big happening here...just surgery...they're used to it...just get over it.'

Several minutes later, another technician came in announcing she would be removing sutures. She said very little, and began her work. Being dutiful, she went about cleaning the newly exposed wound with gauze dipped in peroxide. She was good at what she did--dried blood and topical surgical ointments were cleaned away--but little consideration was given to me, the patient, whose hand she held in hers. I was entrusting myself to her. Again, I told myself, "Don't be a baby, Cheryl, just grit your teeth and get through this...this must be okay...they've done this so many times before. They're the professionals, you're just a patient..what do you know?" After removing the total of 12 stitches, she abruptly left saying she'd see what else needed to be done. "Just wait here."

Again--alone and isolated--wounds exposed, hurting, waiting.

Several more minutes passed when suddenly Audrey, my doctor's nurse, popped her head in and asked me how I was doing. She wasn't asking if I needed a Band Aide, or more gauze, but she was asking how I was faring in light of having surgery and how the mending process was going. She spent time talking to me about recovery, explaining the process and helping me better understand what to expect. She looked at my wrist and hand and exclaimed, "Oh, it looks so good, it sure is healing nicely."

"Is she looking at the same thing I am?" But inside, I felt a glimmer of hope, an assurance that I was on track. Here was someone talking to me, addressing my concerns, my feelings of vulnerability and pain. She heard me, validated me and affirmed that this is all part of the process. My course of healing might be similar to others, but it may take a little longer, or a little shorter and require more or less physical therapy. She took time to treat me like I mattered. That is what I was needing at this point in my recovery period.

I was struck by this experience and how it ties into thoughts I've had about "church" recently--not necessarily my local church--but "church" in general. In recent months I have become burdened with a heaviness--a concern-- for our church. During worship at church this past Saturday night I cried tears for God's church, my church, that I love and want to desperately fight for--fight for following God's heart and what he calls his church to--what He calls His leaders to. I'm still working at puting into words everything on my heart--but I do know as I seek the Lord in these things, the Holy Spirit is clarifying things for me.

You may have heard the sentiment that church should be more like a hospital--it is for the sick and wounded. I agree with this. We are all sinners, unhealthy, wounded, cancer-filled. Only Christ offers real healing and wholeness. He's the master surgeon in that regard.

But really, shouldn't the church strive also to be the recovery room and "post op" filled with gifted assistants to do follow up and post-op care? I think the example of this is set by its leadership. Through the years, whatever church I've been in, from observation and experience, it seems that "church" leadership is more heavily weighted toward the medical assistant-types I encountered-- capable, proficient, intelligent technicians who get the job done--but may not be strong in the relational areas. So, I guess I'm wondering, why aren't there more Audrey types in church leadership? (Obviously I'm not talking gender here--but personality and relational type. Just because someone is either a woman or a man does not mean they are or aren't relational.) I can appreciate that a balance must be the goal, but aren't people and relationships--loving one another and connecting--what Christ has called us to. So wouldn't it make sense to add in more Audrey types to balance things? People need to know they matter. If we really are 'the family of God', and the goal of the church is to be a family, shouldn't we treat one another and speak to one another relationally like family rather than like an organization?

Audrey was being Christ to me yesterday. Sure the techies got the job done and my wound will heal, but what helped me the most yesterday was someone letting me know I mattered taking time to talk to me in my process. (She even checked back in with me as I waited to go see the physical therapist 45 minutes later--And this is no small office...they see literally hundreds of patients each day.)

My prayer is that God's church will find that balance of the medical technicians who get the job done, and more Audrey's who do follow-up care.
**NOTE: Comment added later by author. Please be sure to read the follow-up blog "Reflections on Posting" and subsequent discussion.