Dr. Mike Sims glanced at his watch as he pushed open the heavy glass door and exited the family practice clinic.   Depending on traffic he could be home in less than fifteen minutes.  He walked briskly toward the white Honda Pilot waiting in his reserved space in the parking lot.  A quick press of the button on the key fob unlocked it just a half-second before he pulled open the door and slid into the drivers seat.  The warm Georgia sun had heated the cab nicely– a welcome relief in the midst of the January cold snap.  It was Thursday, and he was normally off on Thursday afternoons.  Dr. Sims’ final patient of the morning had required more time than he had anticipated, causing his delay in leaving the clinic.  Some people simply love to recount details– every detail of every pain that they have experienced over the last 48 hours.  But over thirty=five  years of experience had taught him to listen carefully, because somewhere sandwiched in the midst of insignificant details was the tell-tale key to a diagnosis.  Dr. Sims was a good listener.  A warm, caring demeanor had always been his style, boosting his practice and retaining the respect and loyalty of most of his patients.

Growing up in the small town of Ashland, Alabama, Dr. Sims had long admired the skill and compassion of a family doctor.  In Ashland the local physician was more than a professional.  He was a neighbor and a friend.  Mike’s childhood peers were the local doctor’s kids.  They went to school together, played sports together, and worshipped God together.  Back in the day, house calls were not unusual, and malpractice litigation was almost unheard of.  Local families trusted their doctor because the doctor had earned their trust.  Being a family doctor with a small town flair in Georgia’s second largest city was the only way Mike knew to practice medicine.  It wasn’t a public relations stunt, it was his lifestyle.

Mike Sims has always been a gentle, kind soul.  I should know.  He’s my big brother.  Sure, growing up we fought as brothers sometimes do, but he was always my rock.  Mike could be counted on to do what was right.  Conscientious and thoughtful, Mike was always a guy who made an impact on those around him, and they trusted him.  He was soft spoken, but not shy.  Where I was the loud one who ended up the “preacher” in the family, Mike’s message was not regularly shouted from a pulpit.  Still, he never held back expressing his personal faith in Jesus in public or in private.  Mike felt a calling from the Lord into the medical field in the same way I felt God’s call into the ministry.  Praying with patients and sharing Christ with them is simply him being true to who he is.  Mike is a fine doctor, a great brother, and an extraordinary man.

Mike exited the parking lot, turning right onto Woodruff Road as usual.  Lunchtime traffic in Columbus can sometimes be daunting, but since it was already approaching two o’clock, traffic had settled down nicely.  He didn’t switch on the radio, but allowed his mind to quietly review the several patients he had seen that morning.  Busy days often required Mike some quiet time to reflect, and driving home was a great time for it.

Randomly he thought of an elderly patient he had not heard from in several days– Loraine Morway.  Loraine was under hospice care in her home.  The eighty-eight year old had developed an aortic aneurysm that was inoperable, enlarging daily, and on the verge of rupture.  For Mrs. Morway it was just a matter of time–  perhaps a month, a week, or a day– no one knew for sure.  She was not in pain, but was wholly aware of her circumstances and growing weaker by the day.

Mike had been Loraine’s doctor for well over twenty years.  For a while she had also attended the same church as Mike and Kathy and their family.  They knew her as a vibrant Christian with a deep personal relationship with the Holy Spirit.  Gentle and humble, Loraine always had something good to say about Jesus and of what He was doing in her life.  Mike always looked forward to her visits at the clinic.  She was positive and uplifting, and thoroughly devoted to God’s Word.  A timely quote from the Bible always graced her conversation.  Often, Mike’s prayer for Loraine at the end of an office visit was reciprocated by her praying for him as well.  With Mrs. Morway, the doctor patient relationship was a two-way blessing.

Perhaps a brief visit to check on Loraine might be a good idea, Mike thought as he paused at a traffic light.  She’s day-to-day, and I don’t want to miss an opportunity to see her.  Although her home on Roxbury Drive was in the opposite direction from his house, Mike made the quick decision to make a house call, merging onto the Manchester Expressway as soon as the light changed to green.  A quick call to Loraine’s daughter prepared them to expect his visit.

Loraine’s warm smile greeted him as her daughter ushered Mike into the room.  Her frail frame, barely five feet tall, was situated comfortably in her easy chair while holding her reading glasses in her hand.  He noticed her well-worn Bible sharing a space on the side table with a glass of water.  Her eyes were happy, full of life as usual.  He saw no fear in them at all.

“Well look who’s here.  There’s a doctor in the room!”  she said softly.  “I’m so happy to see you, Dr. Mike.  It’s so sweet of you to come all the way over here to visit me.”

“It’s my pleasure to drop by and check on you, Loraine,” he responded.  “I just wanted to see how you were getting along.”

Mike pulled up a chair and sat right in front of her, almost knee to knee.  She was eighty-eight years old, but didn’t look a day over seventy-eight.  Her silver hair was set perfectly in place as if she was preparing to go somewhere.  Her peach bathrobe and slippers were the only things that even hinted she was sick.  Their conversation about her medical condition was brief, and he was relieved that she was not in any pain at all.  “Before I leave, let me have a word of prayer with you,” he offered.  Loraine’s daughter rose from her seat and moved over to join them.

“Yes, please do,” Loraine said eagerly.  “I always treasure your prayers, Dr. Mike.”  He held her frail hand and prayed a short, meaningful prayer with her asking God to allow her to feel His Presence, and to give her His perfect peace, ending his prayer with his usual, “In the precious name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, Amen.”  Before Mike could raise his head he heard Loraine suddenly declare–

“Oh, He’s here!”   Loraine’s eyes were transfixed on something  just above and behind him.  “He’s come!”  Mike made a quick backward glance, seeing nothing, and then looked  back at Loraine.  She slowly closed her eyes, bowed her head, and began to sink downward.

“Mother?” her daughter cried out.  “Mother!”  They heard Loraine take one quick breath and then relax, exhaling slowly and completely.  Mike felt her wrist for a pulse.

“She’s gone,” he whispered, “she’s gone.”  The powerful, loving presence of the Holy Spirit filled the room as they sat for a moment in silence.

When Mike called me that evening and recounted the entire story, I was deeply moved.  As a doctor for so many years, my brother had been present with many as they passed into eternity, but for Mike this was different.  Being a pastor I have also been with many in their final moment, but rarely experienced something as vivid as his experience that day.  Mike was keenly aware that Loraine’s living room had become Holy Ground.  For that brief moment, the doctor was not the only man in the room.

Discussing his awe-inspiring experience together strengthened our firm belief that God’s Word is real, heaven is real, and that because our trust is in Christ, we too will have no fear in death.  In Christ, the grave has no victory.  Death has truly lost its sting.

Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die.”   John 11:25