Do Not Grow Weary of Doing Good ~ A Tribute to My Local Hospital

And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. ~ Galatians 6:9

     I recently took part in a meeting with members of the local hospital staff. They represented all aspects of care and management. It has honored me to join them regularly over the past few years as they describe the challenges they face, especially since the onset of COVID-19. To say these dedicated professionals are weary would be an understatement. As always, they hope to heal the sick, restore the broken, and comfort the dying. They must also comfort frightened, grieving, and confused loved ones whose care is often more demanding, yet not technically appointed to them. Moral and spiritual dilemmas routinely afflict compassionate caregivers who often relate to patients and loved ones as if they were family. Sadly, they seldom receive a return of the favor. 
     Medical professionals understand that end-user engagement is the main purpose of the hospital’s existence, but the outcome involves multiple layers of support from many disciplines. Hospitals function like small cities. They require most of the same governance, utilities, and quality of life resources. Persons who rarely experience direct contact with patients fulfil many vital roles. In fact, patient care and the quality of institutional life would crumble without them. Therefore, when anyone in the hospital community suffers, everyone suffers. Everyone is a caregiver. Doctors, nurses, chaplains, physician assistants, nurse practitioners, nursing assistants, food services providers, housekeeping workers, maintenance workers, administration providers, security personnel, and gift shop workers all provide care for patients, loved ones, visitors, community leaders, and each other. 
     So, it’s no wonder that, during a global pandemic, this little community within the community is feeling like the Gulf Coast during hurricane season. The pandemic, like a storm, afflicts indiscriminately. Imagine being both victims and relief workers when you visit the hospital amid the storm and its aftermath. When you feel aggravation about priorities and provisions for the greater good and you want to give someone an earful, remember their weariness; remember their deep empathy and authentic compassion. 
     Consumer-driven societies often define institutional employees by what they deliver to the customer - or, more bluntly stated, they don’t care so much about you as they care about what you do for them. It is hard to find kindness and gratitude in a nation of rugged individualists and social elites. Such people treat others as competition. They resist compromise, grace, and mercy because of what it might cost them. Yet, in the hospital, they look like everyone else when lying in a bed dressed in an immodest gown. 
     Hospital gowns and uniforms help to define roles and responsibilities. The gown reduces patients to our lowest common denominator, naked flesh, tissues and organs that need care and healing. Physicians, nurses, and technicians sometimes act as if that’s all they see, a science project. More often than not, it is a professional detachment that protects them from becoming part of the problem they mean to fix. Healing living creatures is not like repairing machines. Hospitals cannot guarantee customer satisfaction, despite the vast collective knowledge, new treatments, technologies, and drugs. The hospital cannot always give desired outcomes, but they can comfort, encourage, and care. 
     Awe and admiration stirred this departure from my typical blog post. The hospital in my hometown exemplifies the heart of Christianity. Christ gave water to the thirsty, washed dirty feet, treated rich and poor equally, spoke truth in love, was angry with sickness and death. He compassionately healed some and did not save others. He felt pity, grief, and joy with his clients and companions. Jesus encouraged and embraced critical thinking and new ideas. He openly condemned outdated and distorted ideologies. He saw the humanity and sacred soul in everyone he encountered and then gave all he could to save them. 
     This homage to hospital workers is justified not only by the civil services provided by under-recognized neighbors and friends who could earn their living in less demanding ways, but also by the essential Christian nature of their service. They don’t have to proclaim their Christian faith in order to live it. Instead, they identify with Christ on a level that few regular church-attenders experience. Christianity is a lifestyle more than it is a belief system endorsed by its adherents. Hospital workers, first responders, dispatchers, clinics, and a host of other support personnel do not always act like pious churchmen, but they do what Christ does.