No Shortcuts…

I have made visits to our local hospital for over twenty-eight years.  In that time, I have learned the shortcuts to get to every part of the facility.  Not to brag, but I know which doors are always locked, which are guarded, which you can exit from, but can’t enter, and which parking spot is closest to which door.  In the years I have made pastoral visits, I think I have prayed in every room in the hospital.

It is dangerous to think you know everything.  Recently, my doctor instructed me to take a sample to the Lab at the hospital.  Drawing on my experience, I knew the closest entrance to the Lab was on the backside of the building.  I also knew I would have to convince the security guard to open a locked door for me, but I thought I could persuade him.

I found a parking spot near the closest door, went in, successfully talked the security guard into letting me through the locked door, walked down the hall to the Lab, and opened the door.  No one was there to take my sample.  I thought this was odd. 

I have learned if you make enough noise in the hospital, someone will come and investigate.  I started rapping on the window, and a kind gentleman came around the corner.  He asked how he could help, and I told him I was there to drop off the sample requested by my doctor.  This was when things began to go wrong.

He politely informed me he could not take the sample; instead, I would need to go to Registration.  I tried to explain the doctor’s order was right there in the bag.  He nodded kindly and told me it was hospital policy and it had to be done this way.  He offered to walk me to Registration, but I told him I knew the way.  He did take my sample and dropped it off at the proper office, telling me to bring my paperwork back to the Outpatient Lab once it was completed.  My vision of a quick in-and-out drop-off began to fade.

Registration is located about as far from the Lab as possible.  After walking down a long corridor, I arrived at Registration.  I handed over my paperwork, was given a number, and was shown a seat.  I had planned on this taking about fifteen minutes.  I should have remembered nothing in the hospital goes fast.

I then realized I had left my phone in my truck.  Ordinarily, this would not be a great cause for alarm; I can survive for a few moments without being connected to the outside world.  But on this particular day, I wanted to keep my phone close in case a family member called.  I went to the desk to explain I had to go get my phone.

I went back down the long corridor, past the Lab, out the “closest door,” onto my choice parking spot, which was now a great distance from where I needed to be.  I thought, “As long as I’m here, I might as well move my truck to a better spot.”

I’m not proud of this, but I first checked out the clergy parking spaces.  This was a bit unethical since I was not on a pastoral visit.  All the clergy spaces were filled, so I headed to the Parking Garage.  There are certain spaces in that garage that will not hold a full-sized pickup truck, and I knew to avoid those.  Others were too far from the elevators.  I wound up on the top floor of the garage, farther from Registration than I was before.

After another long walk, I connected with a helpful Registration clerk, who took my information as quickly as possible and then walked my paperwork over to the right place.  What I thought would take fifteen minutes had taken a full hour.  My efforts to find a shortcut cost about thirty minutes more than if I had simply followed my original instructions.

We search for shortcuts in life.  Trusting our cleverness, we think the rules are for other people, not us.  We assume we are the exceptions.  How often do our shortcuts cost us more time and more money?

People think they can find shortcuts with God.  When you think about it, this might be the most arrogant attitude of all.  We assume we know ways to God better than he does.  In my own journey, I have learned there are no shortcuts to walking with God.  You follow his lead, you listen to his instructions, and you respect his boundaries.  Every shortcut you try to take takes you farther away from him.

No wonder Jesus said the way to live is narrow.  I think he was telling us, “No shortcuts.”