I'm Dr. Rock and Roll: The Rock

Things are about to get spiritual up in here. If that’s something you’d prefer not to put into your mind, then you have my permission to ignore it or move on. I’m not here to preach or convert anyone, just trying to gather my thoughts on the holiest day on the calendar in my spiritual journey. Whether you agree with me or not is irrelevant; I’m just here to “journal out loud” as to how I’m feeling. Do with it as you will.

Happy Easter, or to the non-Christian folk in the world, happy Sunday.

I’ve never been one to wear my spirituality on my sleeve. Throughout my life, I’ve been witness to grand displays of faith and worship, from Seder suppers at Passover to the Easter Vigil in the Catholic Church. The symbolism of the rites of various religions is not lost on me, but I’ve always preferred to experience God in the small, quiet places – a private walk with my Creator, so that I may lay my heart out in the open. My faith is not a clanging cymbal or a loud proclamation, but rather a soft voice and, if necessary, a big stick. I don’t tell anyone that I’m a Christian; it should be obvious, if I’m doing it right.

With all that’s been going on in my life recently, I decided that I needed to attend church this Easter Sunday. Plus, I was invited, and one should never decline such an invitation. I pulled my suit out of the closet and prepared myself as I’ve done many times before. On the drive there, I complained to my wife, “I really need to lose weight. This suit is uncomfortable.” You know, dwelling on unimportant things when I should be preparing to hear His word. I adjusted my attitude (and my tie) in the nick of time, and I took my seat. Preparing for the usual stories of resurrection and promises fulfilled, I was surprised that the message I received would be from an angle I had never considered.

The world tries to mystify us, the pastor said in his sermon, with promises of secular truths that are meant to justify our existence. The key, he opined, was in the simplicity of faith. After all, he reasoned, he’s just a man, but a man that understood the glory of God. Knowing that through Him, all things are possible. And that’s when he referenced to the book of Matthew, and the women that had come to Jesus’ tomb with perfumes to place around the rock in front. After all, there weren’t morticians in ancient Israel, and a corpse as badly mutilated as Jesus’ would start to attract an odor after three days. An angel from God was sitting at the entrance to the tomb, the stone rolled back. A stone, hewn from a larger rock, which had been sealed. He has risen, the angel told them, then commanded them to go tell Jesus’ disciples. The women departed with a combination of fear and joy, which is an interesting combination, if you ask me.

I’ve read that story hundreds of times in my life, and I’ve heard it told even more often than that. And yet, a single aspect of the story had eluded me until today. The rock.

What’s so important about the rock, you ask? I mean, after all, it’s just a rock, a minor player in a bigger story. But is it, really? The rock symbolizes separation, in this case, a literal separation from one who was God to millions of people worldwide. The rock wasn’t just part of the landscape; it had been hewn by men specifically for the purpose of covering the opening to this tomb. It was part of the natural world that was modified for its purpose. To further enhance the separation, the stone had been sealed to the opening, and there was a penalty to anyone who tried to tamper with the seal. Yet, this massive stone had not only had its seal broken, but it had also been rolled aside to reveal the inside.

I know, I usually speak about a much different kind of rock in this blog, but this one may mean more than all the other stuff. The rock represents the multitude of things that prevent us from seeing God and serving Him every day. The excuses we make to not give our lives to Him. The rock is the worries we have about our finances, our loved ones, our health. The rock is our lack of belief that our spouse will ever change, or the futility of shedding the addictions that hold us down. The rock can be something as simple as drinking too much caffeine and not quitting because of withdrawal headaches. The rock is what keeps us in a job that doesn’t fulfill us or the relationship that we know is toxic, but we subconsciously feel it is all we deserve. The rock is all the irrefutable evidence that God doesn’t exist, and we’re delusional if we believe. The rock is the feeling that you’re no use to anyone because your health has turned you into a weakened version of yourself. The rock is only a piece of the scenery, but it’s the very thing that became the focal point today, and it hit me like a ton of lead bricks.

And with all the talk about the rock, I began to think about my suit again. I realized that my suit is a metaphor for my faith. In a world that’s full of suffering and chaos, my faith feels uncomfortable. How can you believe in God, some have posed to me, if He allows suffering to the degree that exists in the world? Have you ever seen old movies where a guy in a suit gets asked an uncomfortable question, and he puts his fingers inside his collar so he can move his neck around? It’s become something that feels more like a straitjacket than your Sunday best. How can you worship a Being who appears to be absent in the world of today? It’s not “cool” to be spiritual. And in a world of business casual, a suit tends to stand out. We all would be more comfortable in a T-shirt and shorts, but maybe that’s the point. Jesus always claimed that His yoke was light, and His burden was easy, but lately that seems to be more of a challenge than ever. Our world is filled with people claiming “righteous anger,” and if the object of their hate is despicable, it’s somehow okay. And let me just say that this isn’t a political statement: EVERYONE is guilty of this particular sin, including me. Choosing the path of forgiveness is uncomfortable, as is choosing to love those who seem unlovable. Choosing joy over sadness when bad things happen to you chafes at your soul. Choosing love over hate is an immense burden. These are all uncomfortable suits we wear, and some of them are downright wool sweaters in August.

When the world has gotten big for me in the past, I’ve chosen to shrink my focus. How can I be a better husband, a better father, a better friend, or a better doctor? I cannot make the world love one another, but I can take up the mantle and choose it for myself. And maybe, just maybe, there will be others that make that choice because I was brave enough to make my own. We don’t change the world by telling people what to do, even though some religions claim this and disguise it under the euphemism of “bearing witness.” No, we shouldn’t tell anyone to read the book, we should read it ourselves and be something that people want to follow. No matter how bad the pigeons in the park want the pieces of bread I’ve brought, they won’t take a single piece if I run at them like a lunatic, screaming at the top of my voice.

I’ve even tried to apply this to my career. In the medical field, we are full of big egos, and I’m not immune to this at times. But I’ve always had a keen understanding that my abilities are borrowed and given to me by my Creator, One who saw me as a good steward for these abilities, that I may serve others. My practice of medicine gives Him glory, and any time I’ve been tempted to brag of my own exploits, I’ve been humbled quickly. My humility has given me clarity, and I can’t count the number of times He’s bailed me out, whispering to me in my own voice the solution to medical issues that had previously baffled me. My only regret is that I am, as the pastor said today, just a simple man with a finite ability to make an impact. I could do so much more, if not for the own rock that keeps me from being a true and faithful servant.

Today, I pray for an angel to break the seal and roll my rock back, and I pray the same for you. May blessings be upon you today, however you choose to walk the path of this mortal life.