For the love of Christ compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died.—2 Corinthians 5:14
IN THE WEE hours of the morning, as soon as I wake up, I launch into a philosophical exploration of sorts. Why do I do what I do? Am I where I should be? Is it the Lord’s will for me to be a doctor? It’s amusing: I’ve had my PRC license for a year and half now, but I still wonder if I should be a physician at all. Do you find yourself asking these questions, too?1
But I am where I am and where I should be. And I trust in the comfort of God’s promises that all things work out for my good and His glory (Romans 8:28). I am thankful for the calling—this vocation of saving lives—that He has led me to.
Christ’s love compels me to be gracious to patients, and to ask for forgiveness if I act otherwise. I fail—sometimes miserably—at times. Perhaps stress gets the better of me, or perhaps something does lurk in my heart—some indwelling sin, likely pride—that manifests itself when I lose my guard. But Jesus has died for my sins and saved me from them. He has given me a new life and with it, a new heart. And all the good I do I am able to do because of this changed life He has given me.
To be dead to sin is to be alive to God. It amuses and amazes me, in equal measure, to hear “death” and “life” in one statement—two words that I grapple, struggle, and deal with every day.
- Surely there are many alternative answers.
I could have been an English major. Had I pursued that path, I would have obtained my PhD already. I’d probably be affiliated with the academe, writing my treatise on grammar, asking my students to submit their paper on James Joyce’s Ulysses on time.
I could have been a lawyer. My brother agrees with me: I should have made a better lawyer and he a better doctor. I’d be writing my pleadings for court, or reading the new jurisprudence on, say, extra-judicial killings, and saying “Objection, Your Honor!” all the time. ↩