Posts by Al Weir, MD

Death’s Sting

He called me after a conference on the West Coast where I had shared the time I was 33 years old, headed for the mission field, and experienced nights with a cold-sweating-fear-of-death. He asked for advice. He too is a follower of Christ who now fears death.

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Speechless

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness’” (2 Corinthians 12:9a, NIV 1984).

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Missions: Three-Legged Stool

“That evening after sunset, the people brought to Jesus all the sick and demon-possessed. The whole town gathered at the door, and Jesus healed many who had various diseases…” (Mark 1:32-34, NIV 1984).

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Oil Bubbles

Charles called me last night and asked me to stop by his apartment on my way home from the hospital. I had helped him through a difficult health issue, and he is also a friend who has taught me much about Christian prayer and service. More than anyone I have known, he has an ear for God’s whisper coupled with the inclination to follow. He has brought the presence and gospel of Jesus to hundreds of lives through unknown and unremembered acts of kindness and grace.

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The Only Way

We were seated in a closed circle, mostly Albanian students, a few followers of Christ and many who were not. We had been discussing healing and the nature of healing by God. The conversation was sporadic. And then a red headed medical student turned to my daughter, a nurse, and said to her, “You Americans don’t understand. You grew up with Christianity and became Christians because your families were Christian. We in Albania had no religion; it was illegal for over 50 years. Now, everywhere we look, we have someone telling us that theirs is the only way to God. Who are we to believe? I would rather just believe in God and not divide everyone by different labels of religion.”

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Inward Thinking

I may have hurt a man a few months ago. Due to my inadequate supervision of a resident, we delayed following up on a positive CT scan. I saw him this week and told him of the mistake and sent his chart out for peer review. Since I discovered the error, I have been worried, mostly for myself, my reputation, my job, etc. This morning, as I was stretching out my morning stiffness and despairing over the possible harm to my career, I realized my concerns were misplaced. Here was a man whom I might have injured and I am only concerned with the way my mistake affects my own life. I refocused my prayers on my patient, for whom Jesus died.

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Flying Loaves

Dr. Clydette Powell is a wonderful physician in Christ who has been recently overwhelmed with responsibilities, in part due to her loving care of her 90-year-old mother who has been very ill. Clydette sent the following incident out to friends by email and gave me permission to share.

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Good Witness

My wife’s sister had a severe bout of pneumonia recently, and she is living with us for a few weeks while she recuperates. God bless my wife. The two of them are as different as rice and coal. They drive each other crazy, and my wife often is heavily weighed down by her sister’s actions and lack of appreciation. She was crying with me about this one morning recently. I came home that evening and she said she and her sister had talked. “The first thing I said to her was, ‘Do you know that you will have eternal life when you die?’” What seems an abrupt and unnatural question to me, given the circumstances, led to a wonderful time of renewal both of personal faith and of sisterly love.

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Stairway Love

We were in their country, not ours. The hotel was bustling with students, local Christian doctors, American physicians, dentists and nurses—rapid movement in all directions, a controlled chaos shepherding hundreds toward a life with Jesus. Randy, an American dentist, was moving through the crowds when he noticed one of the students seemed distressed. She was one who had been most outspoken against the gospel. Randy spoke to her and discovered her grandfather was very ill. He placed his arm around the girl and asked if he might pray for her. There on the stairs of the busy hotel, Randy sat with his arm around the student and prayed.

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Beggars

It is my determined habit to give to beggars. The first time I walked past the beggar at the entrance to Mother Theresa Hospital, I placed a $5 bill in his hand, though it was not the local currency. When I completed my hospital work and walked back to the hotel, I watched the beggar’s handler as he held the bill up to the light to be certain it was legitimate. The next day I walked the same route and a new beggar was there. I leaned over and placed some money into her hand. Two Albanian women were walking by, headed to visit their family members in the hospital. As I left the beggar with the money, I heard both women exclaim, “Zot e mire.”

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