Post-modern

TOUR guides always refer to Christianity as if it were something distant: something that needs mentioning, but not too much. Talk about anything else—the food, the culture, the lifestyle, but not about politics and religion—or so the modern thinking goes, because you'll make enemies if you do. But Christianity has formed much of Europe; as Christianity flourished, so did the rest of the world. Tour guides have a job to do, nevertheless: not to evangelize, but to show us around, so we forgive them.

And while Europe is pretty much a post-modern, post-Christian world, it's been interesting for me to see a few of its remnants in modern culture. Like the musical Jésus, de Nazareth à Jerusalem in Paris.



And a page from the leaflet of my OBB train from Stuttgart to Munich: a celebration of the Reformation. Martin Luther is my hero.

First snow

Nothing arouses playfulness like the first experience of snow.

From Gare Paris Est, I took an 11-hour train journey to Vienna, crossing Germany (Strasbourg, Stuttgart, then Munich), then Austria (Salzburg, Linz, and Wien Mielding). Taking this ride, with the greenery and quaint German houses and snow-capped Alps in my view, has been one of the best decisions I’ve made for this tour thus far—never mind the hipster-looking Frenchman behind the information counter at Charles de Gaulle who, when he asked me how long I was staying, to which I answered, “Just for a few days, then I’m taking the train to Vienna,” couldn’t stop himself from saying F***!
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Waiting for my train

IN A few hours I'm hopping on a train that will take me to Munich, Germany; then to Vienna, Austria, where I'll be staying for a few days. God has graciously provided for everything I need and has kept me safe. I thoroughly enjoyed my two full days in Paris, where I've spent the day walking then having desserts in the bistros, occasionally whiling away time and praying along the Seine. It's been a good chance to brush up on my basic French again, a skill that was challenged when, hungry, I barged into a Subway store right across the Gare du Nord station, and the man behind the counter, who spoke very little English, got confused with my orders.

Forsaken

“My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”—Psalm 22:1

Were here behold the Savior in the depth of his sorrows. No other place so well shows the griefs of Christ as calvary, and no other moment at Calvary is so full of agony as that in which his cry rends the air—“My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” At this moment physical weakness was united with acute mental torture from the shame and ignominy through which he had to pass; and to make his grief culminate with emphasis, he suffered spiritual agony surpassing all expression, resulting from the departure of his Father’s presence. This was the black midnight of his horror; then it was that he descended into the abyss of suffering. No man can enter into the full meaning of these words. Some of us think at times that we could cry, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” There are reasons when the brightness of our Father’s smile is eclipsed by the clouds and darkness; but let us remember that God never really does forsake us. It is only a seeming forsaking with us, but in Christ’s case it was a real forsaking. We grieve at a little withdrawal of our Father’s love; but the real turning away of God’s face from his Son, who shall calculate how deep the agony which it caused him?

— CH Spurgeon, Morning and Evening

Get a copy of "From the Eyes of a Healer: An Anthology of Medical Anecdotes" where my story appears

"From the Eyes of a Healer: An Anthology of Medical Anecdotes" will be released on the third week of April. I had the privilege of contributing to this collection, and this will be my first book publication to date. Many thanks to Dr. Joey A. Tabulá—poet, internist, and now book editor—who has realized that medicine and medical training are minefields of stories about the human condition. I'm excited to read the rest of the stories myself; I know and have worked with many of the authors, too.

Each book sells for Php 249 and is released by Alubat Publishing. You may reserve your copy through this link.

Thankfulness

I give thanks, O Lord, with my whole heart;
before the gods I sing your praise;
I bow down toward your holy temple
and give thanks to your name for your steadfast love and faithfulness,
for you have exalted above all things
your name and your word.
On the day that I called, you answered me;
my strength of soul you increased.—Psalm 138:1–3 (ESV)

Bad News and Good News

I TREATED myself to a novel yesterday—Edward St. Aubyn’s “Bad News,” the second of his Patrick Melrose novels, where the twenty-something Patrick, after learning about the death of his father whom he had despised, flies to New York City to claim the remains. In what reads like a blow-by-blow documentation of his descent into drug addiction, St. Aubyn paints the portrait of a rich man who has everything the world desires—money, sex, influence, women—but who remains empty despite these earthly possessions. We read of Patrick showing up to dinners high with concoctions of heroin, Quaalude, cocaine, and alcohol, which he took shots of inside washrooms, hotel rooms, and dark alleys. His hatred of his father burns him inside out.

Today's Sunday sermon couldn’t have been more timely. Pastor Bob spoke on John 5:1–16, “The Healing at the Pool on the Sabbath.” In this gospel account, the apostle John takes us to a place in Bethesda where a healing pool was. It was widely believed that when the angels would stir the water, the healing would take place. In the area were five roofed colonnades, shielding the blind, lame, and paralyzed from the sun and rain. I imagine this place to be a lot like the hospital where I train, where there is no shortage of illnesses, loneliness, and desperation.
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