Like many, such encounters are neither planned nor predictable, but rather come as a surprise and provide fodder for reflection and intrinsic rewards for a long time. I met Lewis one cold, wintery Saturday morning when the nurse informed me that she had a man who had been given a poor diagnosis of cancer, and he was not dealing with it very well. She wanted to know, since I was there visiting another patient, if I could stop in and visit him. I agreed, and because of the nature of the timing and the quick visit (as you will see), I knew no more about the background of the patient as person and patient than what I have articulated here.
The following is the scenario as I experienced it: When I arrive at the client’s room, Lewis is sitting up with his legs crossed on a flat hospital bed, and the hospital table is across the bed in front of him. On the table are an open briefcase, a cell phone, and miscellaneous papers. Beside Lewis on the bed are several, obviously already read, local and national newspapers, including the Wall Street Journal. Lewis looks young for 52 and relatively healthy and alert. On the end of his nose is perched a pair of reading glasses. He is wearing designer-type sweats that look out of place in the ICU, his hair is well-groomed, he is clean-shaven, and looks like he is waiting to play the part of a businessman in a movie. As a matter of fact, Lewis, in general, looks out of place in the ICU and makes me wonder what he is doing there. Lewis looks like he should be at the gym instead of the ICU.
Lewis looks up as I enter, “Hello, Lewis, my name is Joey, and I am the chaplain this weekend here at…”
“[Profanity], Get the h… out of here!” much to my surprise he again said loudly, “GET OUT!”
This is not what I expected, and the nurse must have had her wires crossed. As I began backing out, “I’m sorry! The nurse thought you might like a visit!”
“JUST GET OUT!” he repeats now, hollering and including a few non-repeatable adjectives.
“Goodbye, and have a nice day!” I walk out the door as I refuse to indulge his narcissistic need to rile me.
When I am about 10 feet from the door and moving fast, another holler is heard from the room, “CHAPLAIN, GET BACK IN HERE!”
As my brain and feet have a tug-of-war about what we are going to do, I turn around and return to the door and just stick my head in. There is no sense in going in too far just to get thrown out again, “Yes!” I replied rather timidly.
Not as loudly, “Get back in here!”
My timidity is showing when I take one step inside the door, “You told me to get out!”
Now talking in an almost normal voice, but as one who is used to giving orders, “I know, but I want to ask you a question!”
As I walk over to the bed, I am thinking fast and trying to get back in control of the situation, “May I take a seat?”
Lewis seems surprised by my remaining ability to ask if I can be seated, but points to the chair by the bed and says, “Help yourself.”
Sitting down slowly and crossing my legs and leaning back in what I call my counselor position, calmly asking, “So what would you like to ask me?”
With an exasperated expression, like one would sometimes address a foolish child, Lewis asks, “Just what did you think you were going to do when you came in here? Just march in here, mumble some holy prayer, and everything would change for the better?”
With a chuckle, “Maybe! Certainly wouldn’t hurt to try prayer, but probably not what I would have done first.” I will choose my battle, and this is not the one I want to fight, especially since I am convinced that this is not the basis of his anger; besides, there is some truth and humor in his question/postulation.
He fails to see the humor, “It’s a good thing you chaplains are not paid! It would be a waste of money!
“I’m sure some would agree with you!” Again, to fight this battle here would not solve anything or benefit Lewis at all, and I am sure it would be a lost cause. It would not help my cause here to let him know that I am paid, and paid rather well, considering.
Continuing his questioning above, “Seriously, what would you have liked to accomplish here when you were going to visit me?” Aha, now we are getting to the question behind the question. His professional curiosity will kill the proverbial cat.
With a little smile on my face, “Oh, I already accomplished what I set out to do!” I say this before I really have time to think about what I am saying. I sense a power greater than myself; God’s Holy Spirit is present and filling my mouth in my hour of need.
Surprise is obvious on his face, “Oh, and what is that?” I too am trying to mask the surprise on my face and figure out what to say next.
“Are you sure you want me to explain this to you? It might be better if we just let it work on you slowly!” God’s Spirit has not left me, and by now I think I know where He is leading this conversation. While this is apropos to what I had been studying, this is the first time it has been quickened to my mind while speaking to a patient.
The proverbial hook is set in Lewis’ psyche, and he is not about to let me go, “No, I want to know what you think you accomplished in those few seconds!”
“Ok, we will start with the most obvious. First, you are no longer sitting here alone fretting over your diagnosis. You have me (foolish, time and money-wasting as I am) to think about and talk to.” I say this light- heartedly with a chuckle (♫ A spoon full of sugar... ♪).
He too chuckles, “I guess you got me there! You might be good for something! What else do you think you accomplished?”
Taking my time, I postulate a second reason, knowing that I am hitting closer to home with each reason, “Another obvious thing is that I am indirectly relieving some of your stress by giving you a place to vent some of your frustration!”
To my surprise, Lewis quickly agrees. This time he is more serious, “Yeah, you’re right again! I felt like my head was going to explode when you came in, and now I am feeling that less. What else?” While before his bitterness and anger made him blind to help, when offered, he now seems almost eager to know what I am going to say next.
“Well, the other is not as easy to see, but I will try to explain. First, your records say that you are Christian. Is that correct?” It is now time to use what I have learned during my recent studies and hope that I am on target.
He nods, “Yes, I have been a member of [some name like Crestfield Community Church] all my life. I usually go every week.”
Here goes my best, “You see, Lewis, there is a thing we chaplains call ‘presence’. As ministers of Christ, we don’t represent the hospital or ourselves, even though what we do reflects on both. No, we represent Christ! Even though you did not want me to visit earlier, just the fact that you realized I was a chaplain triggered memories in your mind. The fact that you go to church weekly tells me there has been lots of meaning attached to church and the things of God throughout your life. I don’t know what those things are exactly, but let me speculate for a moment. For some, the chaplain’s presence might trigger the memory of a godly mother who bandaged their skinned knees and said prayers, that reminds you today that God is here, and He does care about your diagnosis. For others, they memorized the 23rd Psalm, and the chaplain’s presence reminds them that God is their Shepherd and that even though you now walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you don’t have to fear such evil for God is with you…”
By this time a tear rolls down his cheek as Lewis interrupts, “Stop! Stop! You win! I can’t take any more. Please go now! You’re right. Forgive me for earlier. Just go!” He wipes his tear away with a tissue.
With a little smile, “Ok, I will go. I just wanted to answer your question. Don’t worry about earlier. Considering what you’re going through, it’s understandable. Would you like me to say one of those holy prayers before I leave?”
Much subdued, “Yeah, like you said, it couldn’t hurt!”
“Dear Lord, you see the fear and the pain…” I begin a short prayer and then quietly leave the room. My work is done, but the Master’s has only just begun.
A huge blow hit Lewis, when the doctors told him that he had cancer and was facing the possibility of an early death, which left his faith reeling. His misguided anger at me as the chaplain actually gave God the loophole through which to minister and provide salve for his fear and pain. It is always amazing to see God’s Spirit at work in people’s lives and how He uses me to be an instrument of His Spirit, even though I often have no forewarning of the situation.
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