In 1996, when I matriculated at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, I really thought I was forever done with my experiences in volunteer emergency services.  Our apartment on campus was less than a block from one of Austin Fire Department’s stations and AFD used the same tones as we had used on the last department I served in east Texas.  I remember dimly hearing those tones late at night and jumping out of bed just like I had always done, raising all kinds of less than friendly comments from my young bride.  Like Pavlov’s dogs, my body was trained to get an immediate adrenaline rush at that particular noise.  I loved it and I missed it.  I grieved the loss of that portion of my calling for several years.  Even more than the fire service, I really missed my work with EMS, which I had just begun.  I really thought I was finished with that work.

That is, I thought I was finished until God saw fit to call me to Fort Davis;  back home to these mountains my family has called home since 1886.  It all started pretty innocently, actually.  Within 48 hours of my being in town, I was asked to serve on the board of directors of the local Chamber of Commerce.  I had done that before in a former community and thought, “why not?”  It would be a good way to learn what’s going on around here.  Chamber work is the kind of thing that is expected of a minister.  About a month later, the Chamber was to hold a firefighter’s appreciation meal and it all went downhill from there!  Standing in the fire station while we were setting up for the meal, the fire chief approached me, told me he knew I was a firefighter and almost insisted that join back up and become their chaplain.  Within a month I was connected with the EMS service and back on track in that field as well.

So, here’s the problem:  These are time consuming activities.  When fire tones go off, one could be gone for thirty minutes or four days.  You just never know.  When EMS tones ring, you never know what you are going to find on the other end of the call.  A transport to the hospital with no complications is a three hour commitment in this isolated part of the world.  Training hours are another issue altogether.  Then there is paperwork, equipment maintenance, continuing education, and whatever else one is asked to do around the station.  The constant struggle is in how much time to spend with these things.  Is this ministry?  What am I missing out on in the church if I am always goofing off in the back of an ambulance?  Where is the balance to which Christ would have me to pay attention here?  When does community service break across a barrier and actually begin to conflict with the practice of ministry?    What about my family, my kids?  Or... am I doing the right thing by dedicating as much time as possible there?  After all, it is important work we do.  In a community this size, we have to volunteer if these important services are to continue.

And then there are the reassuring calls.  One of the teenagers from our church and two of his friends were involved in a rollover accident.  Thank God none of them were injured.  The parents were there and they were happy to see me doing the work of medical ministry as well as representing the church in that place.  On occasion, I am involved in transporting a Presbyterian (from our local church or somewhere else around the country) and they always seem appreciative of my being present and doing what I am doing.  Still, there are sermons to be written, visits to be made, meetings to plan, Sunday School lessons to prepare... there is REAL ministry to be done.  And sometimes... just occasionally, there are glimpses of God’s calling that bring all of this into perfect clarity.

It’s not odd for us to be called to the local Dr.’s office.  He is the medical director for our EMS service and we operate under his medical license.  So if he is at the hospital delivering a baby or making rounds and a medical emergency comes in the door of his office, the staff calls 911.  <Enter EMS, stage right!>  It happened again, recently.

A fellow who is new to our community walked in and collapsed in a chair, saying he had chest pain.  They put him on oxygen and called us.  Mike, the paramedic, was about 15 minutes away so I took the ambulance and went on over.  The moment I saw him, there was no question that this man was not having a heart attack.  He was sitting in a chair talking.... and talking... and talking!  He was not diaphoretic,  his blood pressure was a little high but not frighteningly so.  I treated him with nitroglycerine for that problem and the chest pain, neither of which subsided with that handy little drug.  This man was angry... with the whole world.  He was also manic which meant he was willing to share his anger with anyone willing to listen.  Still waiting for Mike to get on down the hill, I sat and listened to the rantings of a very angry man, monitoring his vital signs all the while.

He was in the middle of a divorce and he was mad at his wife.  He was renting a home from  his brother at whom he was mad.  He had another brother with whom he was mad.  His church had made him mad.  His boss had made him mad.  He was mad at the government.  Did I mention, he was mad?  When Mike arrived, we put our patient in the ambulance and ran an EKG on him.  His heart was showing signs of stress (no big surprise there) but he, as I had previously suspected, was not in immediate danger of having a heart attack.  He was just MAD.  He had a real desire to go to the hospital, though... so we took him.  Like all good paramedics, ours decided to drive since advanced life support was not needed.  Besides that, he was not in the mood to deal with a mad manic.

So I did what we do.  I kept track of this man’s vital signs and listened as he ranted on about all the ways the world had mistreated him.  I tried to get a medical history but couldn’t.  He was too stressed to talk about his body.  He wanted to talk about why he was MAD.  About five minutes into the trip, he mentioned that he was worried about saying too much for “a town this size”  (even though he had already said it all). I assured him of two things.  First, I was a medic in an ambulance and anything he told me was legally confidential.  Secondly, I was a minister and well practiced in the art of keeping my mouth shut about personal matters that had nothing to do with me (one of the very few things about which I can actually keep my mouth shut... just ask my wife!).

The moment he heard the word “minister” the stress came off.  He began to calm down.  His skin began to turn from red to pink.  His blood pressure moved closer to normal.  His breathing slowed down, and the ranting began to subside.  Now we were talking.  He was opening up about the mistakes he had made.  He was still mad about the mistakes others had made but he was willing to see his part in those things.  He was still angry with his church but missed his involvement with the music ministry.  He asked me to pray for him and I have since that time.  The main problem we had was that the trip was not long enough.  If we could have just driven around a little longer, maybe we could have done more good.  But alas, it’s hard to convince the medical community that driving around is a good use of an ambulance.

About two weeks later, we were called to the same Dr.’s office, for a man of the same age having chest pain.  This time, I happened to be in the station talking to the same paramedic and said to him, “this sure sounds like the same guy we ran on last time we were over there.”  When I walked in the room and he recognized my face, his stress level came down again and he called me by name.  I joked with him that I actually keep office hours and that there was no need to get all these other people involved (I warned you I have a  hard time keeping my mouth shut)!  Luckily, he laughed.  We transported him that day too but I knew what I was doing in a different way this time.  I was not a medic in an ambulance.  I was a minister, representing the church for a unique child of God.  Conventional, traditional ministry?  Probably not... but ministry nevertheless.  Sola gloria dei!