The Surgeon Who Could Not Stop Trembling

Dr. Elena Vasquez had performed over three thousand surgeries at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York. Her hands were legendary — steady as marble, precise as a watchmaker's. But in October 2019, she was diagnosed with early-stage Parkinson's. The first tremor appeared during a routine appendectomy. She set down her scalpel, stepped back from the table, and whispered to her resident, "I can't. Not like this."

For six months, she refused to enter an operating room. She knew too much about what perfection required. Her own hands had become the enemy.

Then a new treatment stabilized her condition. Her neurologist cleared her. But Elena still couldn't walk through those double doors. It wasn't the tremor anymore — it was the memory of her inadequacy, the knowledge that she had stood in the presence of what the work demanded and found herself wanting.

Her mentor, Dr. James Okafor, met her in the hospital corridor one Tuesday morning. He didn't offer a pep talk. He simply said, "Elena, the hands don't have to be perfect. They just have to be willing."

She operated that afternoon.

Isaiah understood this. When he stood before the throne of the Almighty, smoke filling the temple, seraphim shaking the doorposts with their cries of "Holy, holy, holy," he crumbled. "Woe is me! I am undone." He saw perfection and knew he was not it. But God did not ask for perfection. He touched Isaiah's lips with fire, burned the unworthiness clean away, and then asked the simplest question in all of Scripture: "Whom shall I send?" And Isaiah, still trembling, still awed, answered with hands that were not perfect but finally willing: "Here am I. Send me."