The Drama-Driven Life

A Deep, Dark Hole

I became as empty and as useless as the four bare walls of my hospital room.
On Sunday, March 1, 2015, at 4:45 in the afternoon, I clutched the book I had just checked out of my local public library in Ohio – typical me, as if I were holding a treasure. I looked up, saw big flakes of snow falling, and stepped onto the parking lot, left foot first. My body turned 45 degrees, but my left foot never got the message. I was 67, the controller of a mid-size private company, and, unbeknownst to me, I had just broken my ankle. A slender woman with what looked like a four-year old daughter saw me sprawled on the pavement. “Can I help? I feel as though I must do something.” “No, thanks. I can get up by myself.” She cringed, but I made it to my feet.
Tuesday afternoon, two days later, I had surgery on my left ankle and was not allowed to put any weight on my left leg for eight weeks. On Wednesday, in my single-bed room, I enjoyed the comfort of the nerve block still in my system and the delight of eating again, despite the food being bland. On Thursday I continued to lay alone in the hospital room with four bare walls, and no telephone, no television, no reading materials, and no electronic devices of any kind – just my memories.
Then it was as if three strangers entered the room. I felt the urge to use the bathroom and carefully put my feet on the floor, thinking, “I can hop.” From the doorway the nurse saw me, gasped, and said, “Mr. Lund, get back in that bed. I’ll get a bed pan.” She cleaned me up like I had cleaned my two kids when they were infants and had soiled their pants. I muttered, “I’m as useless as a baby.” Stranger #1. Anxiety over the present.
I stiffened my muscles and thought about my life. “Right after high school you had two years of liberal arts and seven and a half years of Bible, theology, and biblical and cognate languages. Yet you never became a pastor and preached the gospel. Such a waste of education.” Stranger #2. Regret of the past.
My thoughts kept going. “Now you can’t put any weight on your left leg for eight weeks. You’re the only person in the company who closes the books. You’ve become undependable. By rights they should hire a replacement and put you put out to pasture.” Stranger #3. Fear of the future.
In my personal hours, I had been studying second and third century Christianity, a time when simple creeds developed. I shook my head and breathed a number of deep sighs. Around noon I got tired of looking straight ahead and turned my head to the left. Through the small, distant window in the room, sunlight poured in above the curtains, and these words bubbled up: “I believe in God the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord . . . and in the Holy Spirit. . . .” I was not attending a liturgical church, but the words of the Apostles Creed had surfaced from somewhere in my memories. Now it was like I had a fourth guest in the room: hope. A hope rooted in history and reality.
I let my mind rest. Later thoughts started flowing again. “This room may look like four bare walls with only a hospital bed, a tiny table, and a white board. But God is here, I have his love and presence, and I can go on.” Two hours later another thought came. “You know what? With all that education you were meant to live the Apostles Creed and, at the end of your life, have the mission to write about the Apostles Creed as a key to living as a Christian, even when the world seems like four bare walls.” This simple creed is the story of God based on Scripture, which the New Testament calls the gospel. The Son of God, through whom the world was created, became human, incarnated God’s presence, gave himself up as a sacrifice to God, loved us, and wanted nothing in return except that we would follow him, and believe and live the gospel in communion with God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – and in a baptized community of brothers and sisters. Living the gospel could be called – I concluded several weeks later – living the Drama driven life.