Taken Care Of

"You've got a real thick book there," the doctor said as he asked me to stretch out my arm to measure my blood pressure.  On my lap lay The Unsearchable Riches of Christ, by Martyn Lloyd-Jones, my dad's favorite writer.  I had taken it with me to read while sitting in the clinic's waiting room.

"Oh; it's my Dad's; I'm just borrowing it from him."

I don't really own thick hardcover books.  Lloyd-Jones...the author was British; maybe my dad, being Canadian, found it easier to follow his line of thinking...which was very organized, very exact, very clear.  After all, before he entered the ministry, he was

"a medical doctor," I found myself thinking out loud.  "The person who wrote this book was a physician."

To my surprise, the doctor sitting in front of me reached over and started looking into the book.  It was full of my Dad's scribbling, and on the front cover, in all caps, he had attached a note: "SEND JUNE".

"See?  It's not really mine,"

"Well, you must take good care of it," he said, handing it back to me.

I had taken it to do some reading while waiting to see the doctor; I had not planned on opening it right there in his office.

After the doctor's visit, I went to the pharmacist across the street to have my prescription filled, and several minutes after that, I walked to the rotary on the other side of the pharmacy to catch the community bus home.  Noney had checked into it for me.  The stop I get off at?  The Honmaru pool ("God Never Misses", Dec. 14, 2012 post), 2, 3 minutes from home!


It seems God is taking good care of me, but not because He is borrowing me temporarily.  He has bought me; I am His.  Permanently.