"I'm just not sure," confided the surgeon, "that an operation would help. It's your call." My wife had already spent a week in the hospital, and surgery to repair her crushed ankle would double that time, a repulsive thought if surgery really proved unnecessary. I promised a speedy decision–absent helpful medical advice.
My assignment boiled down to the obvious: verbalize THE answer… the answer the doctor did not have.
Though intensity and fervency usually fall short of the mark, prayer in perplexing situations comes as no dark stranger. But the requisite yes or no spun the situation dizzily. And no matter the choice, inevitably questions of its rightness would nibble at my confidence.
With no margin for error, I resolved to read my Bible until an answer declared itself. MacArthur Park provided peaceful solitude until the text unmistakably shouted: proceed with surgery. Not satisfied, and actually desiring the other answer, I sought (and received) a second opinion, a strong echo of the first.
The central issue then resolved, one chore remained: drive a stake through the heart of future doubt. Thus beside each verse that had led me down that path, I scribbled a brief notation: "4/16/86. Go ahead with Mary's ankle surgery."
Like stakes in the ground, these terse reminders provided proof positive I had traveled that route on a date certain–and derived a doubt-free conclusion.
After the surgery, the doctor'sfindings surprised us. "The problem was much worse than I thought. The surgery should help a lot."
From time to time during the intervening 16 years, especially now that the pin in the ankle may require surgical removal, this stake has rebuild confidence in the original choice.
In browsing my Bible today, old stakes, all hammered down in times of restless quandary, remind me of past choices with continuing consequences. But each one nailed doubt to ground that day, preventing him from kicking up the dust of worry that another choice would have been better.
Perhaps some of the situations look like yours.
7/19/81 — "Go to school part-time, and don't quit work." Retrospect makes me grateful to have stayed on the job.
7/10/1983 — "Pursue writing a book about Jenny." I never followed through on this–but may yet be able to.
1/25/84 — "Don't worry about testimony before the Public Service Commission. The right answers will come." Being on the witness stand always struck me with jitters.
12/12/85 — "Don't worry about potential financial loss on the purchase."
10/7/95 — "Jenny's life was a great benefit to us." Written five days after Jenny's death, the immeasurable benefit of this profoundly retarded daughter was "nailed down" one more time.
And as I continue to question the value of my writing–and even abandon it in my mind almost every single day–another significant stake encourages me to "hang in there."
12/23/94 — "Don't give up hope."
The roaring giant of doubt is felled by the smallest certainty, a stake through the heart that keeps him down.
Copyright 2003 James McAlister
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