The boy is a bit young to comprehend the accomplishments of a renowned surgeon. But he's not too young to stumble down the stairs and twist an ankle. He rolls and writhes on the floor and screams for help. He is weeks away from his first school dance. There is no time for crutches. No time for limping. He needs a healthy ankle! And his is anything but.
Into the room walks his dad, still wearing his surgical scrubs. He removes the boy's shoe, peels back his sock, and examines the injury. The boy groans at the sight of the tennis ball-sized bump. Young adolescent anxiety kicks in.
"Dad, I'll never walk again!"
"Yes you will."
"No one can help me!"
"No one knows what to do!"
"No, you don't!"
His dad lifts his head and asks his son a question. "Do you know what I do for a living?"
The boy realizes that actually he doesn't know. He knows his dad goes to the hospital every day and that people call him "doctor." He knows that his mom thinks his dad is smart. But he doesn't really know what his father does.
"So," his dad says as he paces a bag of ice on the ankle, "it's time for you to learn." The next day the father is waiting for his son in the parking lot after school. "Hop in. I want you to see what I do," he says. He drives to the hospital and shows his son the constellation of diplomas on his wall. Adjacent to them is a collection of awards that include words like distinguished and honorable. He hands his son the manual of orthopedic surgery that bears his name.
"You wrote this?"
His cell phone rings. After the call he announces, "We're off to surgery."
The boy scrubs up and, on his crutches, follows his dad into the operating room. During the next few minutes he has a ringside seat for a procedure in which his dad reconstructs an ankle. He watches his father take command of the operating room. He sees that his dad never hesitates or seeks advice; but just does it.
One of the nurses whispers, "Your dad is the best."
As the two of them ride home that evening, the boy looks at his dad in a different light. If his dad can conduct orthopedic surgery, he can likely treat a swollen ankle. So he asks, " You think I'll be ok for the dance?"
"Yes you'll be fine."
This time the boy believes him. His anxiety decreases as his understanding of his father increases.
Our biggest fears are like sprained ankles to God. The more insight we gain into the power and love of our Father, the smaller the fears will feel.
Learning to Trust in Him Together...