Something made me know that he could not be well. One of my doctors is pretty old and feeble. But this day was different. He didn’t stand much. He rolled around on his little stool. He didn’t smell right as he got up in my face and examined me. His dress loafers were covered with dust. I knew he had struggled to get dressed and be there to keep his appointments. So I asked someone in the outer office about him. “He has cancer,” she said….”He has no family and his life is very hard.” Then she went on to tell me that the office staff was having a holiday lunch together in the upcoming days and he was excited to go. “We want to cheer him up. We are even going bowling and we hope he can do it with us. We are his only family.”
So when I went back for the follow-up, I baked some bread and took some home-made jam. I put a card in there with pictures of my grandchildren and a note that gave him my personal contact info and asked him to let these children send “happy notes” to his mailbox, just because “I could tell… you were not feeling up to par.”
When I went back, though, his staff told me that he was not there, but they would be sure he got the bag. As I conversed, the staff opened up to me once again and told me that he had called in and said he had fallen and he needed a few days to recover. His appointments would need to be postponed. But the fall turned out to be more serious. Days went by. The staff kept trying to call and check on him, but he rarely picked up. When he did, he said “Just leave me alone. I will be fine.”
At last, the upper level of office management sent the police to his apartment to check on him. Sure enough, the officers and paramedics notified back that he was being transported. “We cannot tell you where he is going, but if you call around the area hospitals, you will find him.”
All of this made me sad beyond words. This man, who has been my doctor for 21 years, was lying somewhere on the floor, for an extended period of time. Suddenly, he is finished. This man, who has always been so kind and genteel, is suddenly finished seeing patients. He is done getting together with his staff. He is somewhere in our city alone in a hospital room during the holidays and his condition is serious.
He will get my bag. 
He will read exactly how to be in touch with me and with our wonderful West Huntsville family. I pray he will be able to … and that he will allow us to be helpful to him, at this point. But I am not proud that I have known him for 21 years and have never known that he was without family. I never knew he had cancer. I never knew he might benefit from some goody bags and encouragement. Most importantly, I never addressed his soul. Granted, he may not have listened. But I could have spoken, even if his heart was not open. At the very least, I could have handed him a card that invited him to study the Bible with me. Did I even do that?
My point is this, and it is directed first to my own self-absorption: There are people all around me who need the gospel. They may not know they need it and they may reject it from the start. But I may be the only conduit for the gospel for some of the people around me who are swiftly traveling to eternity. I want to be more aware of the mammoth responsibility I have to share the treasure. It’s a gospel that is big enough for the inclusion of every wiling soul I know. It is laced with the blood that is pure enough to save the vilest sinner I know. It is available only between the births and deaths of travelers on the earth. It is not up to me, whether or not people accept the biggest gift ever offered them. It’s just my privilege to verbalize to them the urgency of accepting the gift. Such a minute part to play in someone’s salvation. But am I even diligent to play my little part, in view of all He has done for me?
And do I often displace my mental motivation to mention Him in my selfish pursuit of temporal appointments, approval and acquisitions? I need to do better. I pray today that I will!