Dreaded Exams

What doctors and pastors have in common.

My father is a doctor. When I was growing up, he hoped I would follow in his steps, so he often shared stories about the wonders of his profession. Like the day when he cracked a case that had stumped other doctors for weeks. It turned out to be a parasite acquired in the South Pacific during World War II.

"The man had a dormant worm in his gut for over 50 years!" my dad exclaimed with a victorious smile. "Medicine is amazing."

A few nights later, however, he would point his index finger at me and declare in exhaustion, "Never become a doctor. You just stick your finger up peoples' rear ends all day."

Message received. I became a pastor.

When I was 18, my father learned what it was like to be on the receiving end of a latex glove. He was diagnosed with cancer. His type was very survivable if caught early—which could only be known through surgery.

I sat next to him in the waiting room before the operation. It was odd seeing him in a hospital ...

Subscriber access only You have reached the end of this Article Preview

To continue reading, subscribe to Christianity Today magazine. Subscribers have full digital access to CT Pastors articles.

September
Subscribe to CT and get one year free.
Homepage Subscription Panel
Read These Next
close