Park Cities Presbyterian Church (PCA)

Kathleen's story

By Jaceson Jennings

Published November 1, 2009 in Witness

My son, be attentive to my words; incline your ear to my sayings. Let them not escape from your sight; keep them within your heart. For they are life to those who find them, and healing to all their flesh.
—Proverbs 4:20-22

The door squeaked a little as it opened. I heard my voice crack as I announced my presence: “Clergy.” A quiet, yet generous reply came from somewhere in the room. “Please, come in.” I entered to a whiteboard on the wall tracking blood cell counts. There was an old burgundy Bible on the table which bore the marks of frequent use. A metal tree of liquid-filled bags and hoses stood off in the corner. Another machine stood by beeping intermittently. The smell of stale hospital food lingered in the air.

Only moments before, a nurse had suddenly grabbed my arm. In a hushed voice, almost whispering, she said, “The lady in room 302 has really been looking forward to a visit with you.” She mistakenly thought I was the hospital chaplain. The puzzled look on my face made for an uncomfortable situation. She followed with a series of awkward apologies; but I assured her that ministers visit even those they don’t know, even nonmembers of their church.

As we walked toward room 302, my heart beat a little faster and my hands got slightly clammy. This had never happened before. I was about to walk into the room of a woman who was not expecting me, who had not requested me. Uncertainty washed over me like a cold bath.

Her name was Kathleen, a middle-aged Baptist woman from Longview, Texas. She told me that Longview was a long way from Baylor Medical Center. Hence, it had been weeks since she had heard a sermon. Her church was between pastors so it had been even longer since a minister had prayed with her. Providence had led me to a woman fighting for her life and, in many respects, she and her family were fighting alone.

That day, I became Kathleen’s surrogate minister and PCPC her surrogate church. She was placed on our hospital visitation list and ministers visited and prayed for her daily. My visits with her were especially poignant and meaningful for both of us. I must have seen her at least a dozen times. I watched as the chemo took its toll. I was there when she couldn’t eat, when she couldn’t sleep, and the day after she lost all of her hair. I came on good days and bad. I experienced her metamorphosis firsthand. She taught me what it means for a minister to suffer along with his people.

But this was not all I learned from Kathleen. During the course of our visits, she taught me much about suffering and human spirituality. I learned that a minister of the gospel is also a doctor of the soul. Just as medical doctors diagnose the physical condition of patients and prescribe an individually tailored treatment, so also the gospel minister is to carefully probe the soul, diagnose its aliments, and appropriately apply the biblical medicine.

There were days when Kathleen was so spiritually emaciated she could hardly talk as she struggled with doubt, spiritual depression, or fear. At times like these, Psalm 121, Psalm 103, and Matthew 6 are a soul physician’s best friends. She taught me to sit quietly, to have few answers, and let the biblical medicine do its work.

At other times, the Heidelberg Catechism proved effective at fighting off spiritual sickness. Still other times, it seemed that spiritual starvation was the culprit. Thanks to our fine CD ministry, we were able to provide her with a series of sermons during times she felt so poorly that all she could do was listen. On better days, she was able to read printed articles and PCPC devotionals. On good days, we sang hymns and read poems. I belly-laughed at my own jokes and prayed loud prayers of great joy. In short, I learned to practice medicine on her—spiritual medicine.

I went to visit Kathleen for the last time several weeks ago. Providentially, I walked into her room 30 minutes before they released her. There was a crowd of people there that day all huddled in that small hospital room. Friends from Longview had come to celebrate her successful treatment. As I worked my way through the barrage of shoulders and elbows, I finally laid eyes on Kathleen. It was the first time I had seen her dressed in her own clothes.

Upon noticing me, she hushed the crowd of people and explained to them who I was. Then, she turned to me with tears in her eyes and said, “I don’t think I would have made it through this without the ministry of your church.”

I simply responded, “That’s what we do.”

My visit was short that day, as it should’ve been. We gathered in a big circle and joined hands, tears flowing, heads bowed. Unable to resist, we prayed a loud prayer of great joy. As I was exiting the room, one couple stopped me. They said, “We have heard a lot of good things about your church. Next time we’re in town, I think we know where we will attend.”

Experiences like this remind us that our God still works providentially in the lives of His people. We should be humbled to know that He is still pleased to use PCPC’s hospital ministry the way He does, humbled to realize that He has chosen us as instruments in the extension of His Kingdom.

Editor's note: Kathleen later wrote a letter to Jaceson Jennings describing what his ministry meant to her. You can read it here.