He came for the sick, not the healthy

I know my profession deals with sick individuals. I know this. I know this. I know this. But, it does not make it any easier when you are face-to-face with them. It doesn't make it easier when you watch them writhe in pain. It doesn't make it easier when you know their knees are the largest part of their thigh (yes, I said thigh). It doesn't make your first neuro assessment exciting when you know the results are pointing towards comatose, while their family member sits quietly in the corner. I know I chose the right profession. But it doesn't make it easier. There is some part of you that must put on your professional face and deal with the situation as "matter of fact" as one can.

...But I hope I never reach the day where I am not affected by what I see. I hope I never stop praying for my patients, crying for my patients and hurting with my patients. Because, I know my sweet God's heart breaks for what breaks mine; he hurts with me, cries with me, and desires good for me because I matter to him.

On this earth, Jesus had a job to do. But can you imagine what kind of savior he would be if he didn't shed a tear when Lazarus died?... or didn't spend time fishing and cooking breakfast for his friends?... or didn't pick a beaten-down adulterer out of the sand?... or chose not to wash the scarred and stained feet of his brothers? He did all those things and more because he NEVER forgot he came to do the work of the ONE who sent him.