The surgeon left. Later, he sat in his office,
recording his notes from the surgery. "...damaged
aorta, damaged pulmonary vein, widespread muscle
degeneration. No hope for transplant, no hope for
cure. Therapy: painkillers and bedrest. Prognosis,
here he paused, "death within one year." He stopped
the recorder, but there was more to be said.
"Why?" he asked aloud."Why did You do this? You've put
him here; You've put Him in this pain; and You've cursed
him to an early death. Why?"
The Lord answered and said, "The boy, My lamb, was not
meant for your flock for long, for he is a part of My
flock, and will forever be. Here, in My flock, he will
feel no pain, and will be comforted as you cannot imagine.
His parents will one day join him here, and they will know
peace, and My flock will continue to grow."
The surgeon's tears were hot, but his anger was hotter.
"You created that boy, and You created that heart. He'll
be dead in months. Why?"
The Lord answered, "The boy, My lamb, shall return to
My flock, for he has done his duty. I did not put My lamb
with your flock to lose him, but to retrieve another lost
lamb." The surgeon wept.
Much later, the surgeon sat beside the boy's bed; the
boy's parents sat across from him.
The boy awoke and whispered, "Did you cut open my heart?"
"Yes," said the surgeon.
"What did you find?" asked the boy.
"I found Jesus there," said the surgeon.
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