The Surgeon Who Refused the Simple Prescription

Dr. Elena Vargas had spent twenty-three years as one of Houston's most respected cardiac surgeons. When persistent chest tightness sent her to a colleague's office at Methodist Hospital, she expected the full workup — stress echocardiogram, cardiac catheterization, maybe even a referral to the Cleveland Clinic. Instead, her colleague listened carefully, reviewed her labs, and handed her a prescription for a generic acid reflux medication. Nine dollars at Walgreens.

Elena was insulted. She had scrubbed into thousands of surgeries. She had lectured at Johns Hopkins. And this man wanted her to fix the problem with something her grandmother could have suggested? She left the prescription on the counter and booked her own appointments — an MRI in the Medical Center, a second opinion from a specialist in Dallas. Weeks passed. The tightness remained.

Finally, her teenage daughter picked up the crumpled prescription from the kitchen counter and said, "Mom, just try it." Three days on the medication, the tightness vanished completely.

Naaman stood at the banks of the Jordan with the same wounded pride. He was a decorated general. He expected fire from heaven, a dramatic ceremony, at least a personal audience with the prophet. Instead, Elisha sent a messenger: go wash in that muddy river. Seven times. It was beneath him — until he discovered that God's healing has never required our approval of His methods. It only requires our willingness to step into the water.