First, do no harm

[note – the thoughts to follow are ehhh]

The human condition is like a car wreck. It’s horrifying and tragic but at the same time mesmerizing and riveting – there’s something in us that can’t look away. 

 Influencing my thoughts are as follows: The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, and There’s a Certain Slant of Light by Emily Dickinson, and Mark 8.

 One of the characters in The Fault in Our Stars has the (admirable) audacity to make the statement that Shakespeare was wrong about life. Now I’ve listened to my professor talk about Shakespeare enough in class to know that when it comes to the human condition, though he lived hundreds of years ago, Shakespeare pretty much gets what it means to be a human living in this world.

 The title of the book comes from the quote in Julius Caesar, “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in ours stars / But in ourselves.”

 And this is, without a doubt in my mind, true. We, as humans, are sinful.  From the moment that forbidden fruit was picked, the endless cycles of suffering and sadness began.

 Now, take care to know that when I say this in my mind, I say it lightly. It’s simply a statement of fact. But it’s so easy to say, coming from myself.

 But the book made me think of some things. Like when I volunteered for an entire summer on the cancer floor of Cook Children’s Hospital. And then my mind argues with itself. It’s not fair. Yet it is. No one deserves this. Yet, such is life.

 Here’s a quote from the book – “Were she better or you sicker, then the stars would not be so terribly crossed, but it is the natures of the stars to cross, and never was Shakespeare more wrong…there is no shortage of fault to be found amid our stars.”

 Terrible things happen. Earthquakes. Hurricanes. Disease. Cancer. Accidents. Yet amidst these things, our God is a Just God.   

 I wonder what Emily Dickinson meant when she talked about that imperial affliction. I wonder if someone close to her died, or if something was happening to her.

 Every person in this world is bearing this imperial affliction. I guess to summarize it, we can call it pain. And pain is a byproduct of sin. There’s a chilling quote in the book – “The thing about pain is that it demands to be felt.”

 Anyway. To address the title. First, do no harm.

 Looking at it in a non-medical perspective, I have mixed feelings about this statement. Especially after a semi-lengthy discussion about morality with some intellectual people.

 Yes, doing harm sucks. It really does. But is it better to do nothing? To tread lightly on this earth, living in fear of messing something up? To say ‘do no harm’ is no doubt essential, but to say ‘first’ Is a different matter entirely.

 Now to Mark 8.  Above are all the questions. What do we do about this? What do I do about all this? How do we go about living in this world like this? How am I supposed to live my life?

 Because in thinking through these things I become so angry with suffering, and why it happens to people. I become angry when I see a people afflicted.

 And I ask Jesus, and He gives me the answer, and I don’t know if it’s the answer I want, but it’s the answer, that if anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me. And I think about how all I want to do is not tread lightly, and leave my mark on this world, and He tells me whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake and the gospel’s will save it and I think, oh jeez, can I ever say that I would give my life for the sake of the gospel. And I wonder about injustice and how it’s unfair that some people never got to live their life, and He tells me for what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?

 And there we have it.  It’s not about where the fault lies or how to cure this affliction, it’s about the only thing that remains when everything else will be gone.

 But my mind still goes back to those afternoons in Cook Children’s Hospital. One time they asked me to just sit in the room with a patient while his parents had to step out. The patient was an 8-year old kid, and I just sat there in the room for an hour with nothing do, because he was asleep. The nurse told me he spent most of his time sleeping. I wonder what the parents would do when they were sitting with him. Would they pray? Worry? Try to read a book? I wonder if they just looked at their son’s face, waiting for him to wake up so they could hear his voice again.