Miss11 was studying Antarctica with her class a few weeks back. And something I learned during the inevitable “Can you help me with my assignment please, Mum?” was that back in 1961, 27 year old Russian doctor, Leonid Rogozov, gave himself an appendectomy. He was the only doctor, and he needed one – otherwise he’d die.
And now, every doctor who plans on wintering on an Australian Antarctic station must have their appendix removed prior to their departure. An interesting fact, but one which’ll always remain a piece of trivia for me because a) I’m not a doctor and have no intention of ever being one, and b) I dislike the cold. So there’s ZERO chance of ever voluntarily going to Antarctica, even if I *were* a doctor.
I quite like the idea though, of doing something once, early, and then forgetting about it because it’s over and done with – for good.
Back when I was a teenager, I used to hate that I *had* to eat. It irked me that there were things in life over which I had no control: breathing, eating, and sleeping, for example. If I could, I would have happily forgone them, if it were possible to do so and go on living. Weird, I know – but that’s how I felt. If I could have eaten one HUGE meal, and never ever had to eat again, I would have. And that’s where God comes in.
Because He said I could.
The book of John, chapter 6 verses 47 to 51 say: “I tell you the truth, anyone who believes has eternal life. Yes, I am the bread of life! Your ancestors ate manna in the wilderness, but they all died. Anyone who eats the bread from heaven, however, will never die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Anyone who eats this bread will live forever, and this bread which I offer so the world may live, is my flesh.”
Now Jesus, who was speaking here, was NOT talking about cannibalism – although His disciples questioned him very closely about this immediately afterward! Rather, he was saying that if we believe in Him [Jesus], then we don’t have to keep on following the old way of doing things. We don’t have to follow all the rules and regulations for sacrifices and feast days etc. which the Jews had needed up until that point. Because instead of eating bread on a daily basis – instead of following the pattern of regular sacrifices – we now only need one. Belief.
Sounds simple, yeh? That’s because it is. Just believe.
But its needs to be the kind of belief that made Dr Rogozov give himself an appendectomy. He knew that if he kept his appendix, he’d die. He chose to give himself surgery so that he might live. I’m choosing to believe in Jesus so that I might, too.
And that’s my takeaway lesson for Day 2 of this A to Z blogging challenge. Jesus, God’s son, is the Bread of Life. So I’m going to believe in Him.
Have a great day, dear reader!
3 replies on “26 lessons from God’s metaphors: #2”
That’s a fascinating fact about the forced appendectomies. Mmm… I’ll have to store that away. There’s a story in there somewhere. 🙂 I know what you mean about food. I’ve always been terrible about savoring food. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy food. But I eat too quickly, and I think it stems from always feeling like there’s something more important I should be doing. There’s nothing more important than savoring the Bread of Life, however. Good post, and great reminder, Kai! 🙂
Thanks, Colin! And yes, I found the forced appendectomies rather interesting! If you *do* use it in a story, I’d LOVE to read it! 🙂
Interesting story about the appendix; I can’t help but think about its evolution since it’s now an organ that doctors believe has no utilitarian function.
Bread, of course, is a literary allusion. In “The Pardoner’s Tale” (Chaucer), it’s the delivery system for poison. In “Absalom, Absalom! (my favorite Faulkner) novel, bread symbolizes peace. Bread is a symbol of kindness in “The Grapes of Wrath.”
Of course there are more! But I can’t remember them right now. Glenda from
Evolving English Teacher