In the Dressing Change Room

Some patients enter the dressing change room hobbling with crutches, others have to be pushed in a wheel chair, but some can walk for themselves. There are so many wounds. Infection eating away the flesh. Burns covering the skin. Broken bones, skin grafts, amputations, head trauma, surgeries, snake bites.

As we unwrap the dressing, the sight is startling, but the smell is worse. The combination makes me nauseous. I have to step back—and look away. This is awful and these wounds are gruesome. “I should let someone else do this. “ “I can’t handle it. I feel sick.” “Someone else can take care of these patients,” I think. I am repulsed.

But then I look at the patient’s face. I can’t help but look into their eyes. The Holy Spirit reminds me, “In the image of God He created him” (Gen 1:27).

The image of God.

That changes everything. All too often I forget who I am caring for. I have seen some very ugly cases and gone through intense situations with many patients. I forget that these people are human beings created in the image of God. There are so many sick and dying. Many of these cases are preventable or at least would never reach this degree of severity if the patient was living in a more developed country. I get overwhelmed by the masses of patients. The future for them seems so bleak to me.

But Jesus had a different perspective: “When He saw the crowds (sick and diseased) He had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (Matt 9:36). Jesus has compassion on the crowds. He heals their sickness. He gives them hope for the future. He is the shepherd for the sheep.

In the dressing change room, I was reminded of my own repulsive wounds. Sometimes they are buried deep under my skin, other times they are covered by my clothes, other times they are out in the open for everyone to see. My sin in eating away at me.

 We are all suffering under the weight of our sin, the evil committed towards us, and because we live in a broken world.

In the dressing change room, I was convicted by the perspective that Jesus has. He does not behave as a typical human—turning away from the hurting. Jesus spent His days with the patients “in the dressing change room.” He came to make them well.

In the dressing change room, I had to confess, Jesus, uncover my wounds—especially the ones I hide so well. Wash away the dirt and debris, cut out the infection, just like we did in the dressing change room. Make me clean Jesus. Heal me. I am sick. Sin is rotting in my heart. Give me Your perspective Jesus, I need You. I can’t do this job. You have to do it through me.

Suffering is so common. Death is frequent. But Jesus is the Good Shepherd, and He is working here. He is working in me.