My time in a Dublin Hospital
Hi Friends,
I had the incredible privilege to travel with South Bend City Church to Ireland for a spiritual pilgrimage led by Telos. We visited beautiful places that brought renewal to our souls and learned about the peace-making journey of Northern Ireland.
The evening before taking the red eye flight to Dublin, my outside cat bit me as I was petting him. It was a play-bite but I ended up with three significant punctures in my left hand.
The flight over was not comfortable. My hand was hot, swollen and throbbing with pain. We landed and arrived at the hotel the morning and I went straight to our room to change my shirt. I quickly noticed three red streaks running up my arm and my lymph nodes were sore and swollen.
I walked to the nearest medical clinic, “Welcome to Dublin,” I thought. The doctor sent me directly to the emergency room. When I arrived at the Benedictine medical center, there were about 25 people waiting and yet, they called me back within a couple of minutes and had an IV in my arm within five minutes. That’s when I became a wee bit nervous.
The doctor had concern about a bacterial infection spreading throughout my body and he indicated it would take some time for the antibiotics to work. “Be patient,” he said. I was very thankful for his care and attentiveness.
The antibiotics needed time to level out my system and I ended up staying in the hospital for two days. This was not the kind of silence and solitude I was planning to have nor the pilgrimage I thought my soul needed.
And yet, even with disappointment by my side, God met me there.
A verse from Luke 1 kept quietly coming to mind, one arm in a sling raised to reduce swelling and the second arm stretched out to better receive the IV drip.
“By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us.” Luke 1:78 NRSV
It was a vulnerable time, a bit scary and sometimes sad. But I sensed an opening up to God. My inability to generate peace and vulnerability opened me up for the tender mercies of God to break upon my soul.
A baby born from on high is vulnerable, tender, and merciful. This story of Jesus was predicted in the last chapter of the Old Testament:
“But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its rays. And you will frolic like well-fed calves,” Malachi 4:2.
I was lucky to have a window in my corner of the four person room because I’ve heard it said that people with windows in their hospital rooms heal quicker.
The first night was the longest but then I saw a bright sunrise reflect off the back of the hospital building. Pipes, A/C units and smoky vents never looked more beautiful.
I’ve taken a closer look at Luke 1:78 and a few observations of the original language struck me:
“Tender mercies of God” or compassion (splanchna) literally means bowels or deep entrails. The compassion of God is deep and meets perfectly with deep things of human souls. My disappointment in being hospitalized during a trip of a lifetime opened me up to greater laments I’ve had the past year and a half. God’s compassion was enough. He is a trip of a lifetime.
“Dawn” has the idea of springing upward. The image here is a sun rising but the word is also used for a branch or shoot springing upward. The dawn of the morning isn’t about me. It rises on people, communities, and neighbors. I love verse 79 that indicates that the light will reveal a way of peace unto others. The sun rises upon the Dublin hospital, Belfast streets, Derry memorials, and the Rostrevor monastery.
“Break upon us” implies a visit where one is looked upon in a caring and healing way. Dark nights make attending and compassion more difficult. Visiting with the deep seated emotions of God captures the idea of welcome, hospitality, and closeness. The imperfect tense of this verb communicates the action will be repeated… over and over and over. The story and presence of Christ will rise among us once again.
The window in my room actually became a kind of mirror at night. The reflection reminded me that it is okay to process, name sadness, and be where I was. But the mirror in the morning would turn back to a window and I will see a grand hope and new mercy that Christ brings.
The sun rose on Dublin fields, castles, and parks. It also rose upon the back of that city hospital.
The main doctor had to visit me before I could get discharged. Because this was a teaching hospital, he had a nickname: the Professor. A team of young doctors followed him around. He visited me and was hesitant to hang around and answer my questions. I asked anyway. I could tell he wanted to move on to the next patient. He wasn’t like the Person who had also visited me.
Regardless, he allowed me to be discharged at 6 am the next morning and I was grateful to make the bus to our next leg of the trip to London-Derry.
That December 3rd morning I left the Dublin hospital as the sun was rising. I walked back to the hotel and frolicked liked a well-fed calf. My group welcomed me back with open arms and a Guinness t-shirt.
This experience really loosened up my soul and helped me be okay in the midst of darkness or disappointment. I was vulnerable, incapable of healing myself and with arms stretch out could only receive the tender mercies of God. God’s compassion is enough to meet disappointment.
Wendell Berry wrote that the “night got darker and darker then Jesus was born.”
This is Advent.
The rest of the trip we learned how to be peacemakers, reconcilers to God and others. Derry and Belfast have a painful history that is still catching the sun-rays of God’s healing. I have a lot more to process and unpack.
For now, I am considering a few questions this Christmas that I offer you.
What is keeping me from vulnerability and openness to God?
How might I see the compassion of Christ for what it really is?
Upon what would I like to see the mercy of God dawn?
Who in my sphere of life is experiencing a dark night of the soul?
Where is peace needed this Christmas?
This wasn’t the spiritual pilgrimage that I was expecting but it changed me. The morning I was discharged, before leaving the floor of my room, I turned to look back and noticed above the door of my room was a cross, illuminated by a single light. Thank you Jesus.
May the tender mercy of our God dawn on you from on high and may the sun break upon you as well.
Merry Christmas, friends.
John
P.S. I’m grateful at your many end of year gifts.
If you would like to give you can at:
www.gracegreensboro.org/donate
Grace Discipleship, P.O. Box 4501 Greensboro, NC 27404
