handlebar_scarsI heard the scream for help and ran outside to see what was going on; I didn’t have to go far before panic gripped me. My four-year-old daughter’s face was covered with blood as she rested limply in the arms of a neighbor girl.

“It was an accident, Jamie fell off the handlebars of my bike and her head hit the sidewalk.”

As neighbors began to arrive on the scene, I barked out orders,

“I need cold compresses, towels and someone to drive me to ER!”

The sight of copious amounts of blood caused my adrenaline to kick into overtime; even more so when it’s your own child. For the first time, I understood the urgency felt by ER physicians and nurses as they are forced to make life-saving decisions. They act with mercy and reserve judgment until all the facts are known.

A blood trail followed me as I rushed into the emergency waiting room; my daughter cradled in my arms. The clerk at the reception desk handed me a clip board with pen and calmly said,

“I need you to complete these forms and provide me with your health insurance card. Bring them back to the desk when you are finished; once I confirm coverage, your paperwork will be sent to the ER staff.”

Was she joking? I have a four-year-old child screaming at the top of her lungs, bleeding from the head and she wants me to fill out paperwork. Obviously, this lady doesn’t have children because moms don’t hand other moms a clipboard when blood is dripping on the reception desk. Thankfully, an ER physician noted the situation. “We can handle the paperwork later,” he told the clerk, and escorted us into a room to assess the wound.

Let’s replay this in a spiritual scenario.

You are riding along on the handle bars of life when you fall off suddenly and hit pavement face first. The head wound is a gusher and as the blood flows it blocks your vision and you panic.

You arrive at the altar of God’s ER reception desk and cry out for mercy. Dr. Jesus, the attending physician, hears your cries and immediately begins to assess the damage.

Diagnosis: Lack of judgment
Cause: Riding on life’s handle bars instead of steering them which hindered their ability to navigate in the right direction.
Treatment Plan: Remove debris; clean and stitch the wound. Instruct patient in the proper way to ride the bicycle of life and that both hands should remain firmly gripped to the handles that steer and guide their path.
Discharge Plan: Forgiveness by grace, with no penalty or charge for service if primary care physician is Jesus. Keep injured area clean so healing can occur; sutures will dissolve over time with minimal scarring.
Fee for Service: Paid in full at the cross

Thankfully, the injury to my daughter’s head only required a few stitches; but, I had no way to know the depth or degree of the injury until the wound was cleaned by the physician.

That’s what Jesus does when we arrive at the ER altar desk. He takes a look at our physical, emotional and spiritual injuries and determines a course of action. He removes our debris, cleans our wounds and sutures our injuries. With follow-up treatment and loving care, Jesus restores the handlebar scars of our life.

One comment

  1. What a beautiful analogy…and one to which we can all relate. You have reminded me today to be grateful for children, for bicycles, for neighbors, ER professionals, grace and Jesus.

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