Learning to Be a Wuss

By Nathan Fischer

July 4th—Independence Day. It’s the day when rockets and missiles aren’t just associated with the military, but instead every American gets to legally set off his own combustible projectiles! The flags are soaring, the boats are roaring, and the fireworks rain down in the most brilliant and vibrant colors imaginable. Independence Day. It’s one of those days of the year that people associate with fun and laughter.

Last summer, my July 4th became marked by something else. Fun and laughter were cast aside as my mom and I drove to the hospital. Pain is not what most people associate with the fun and laughter of the 4th of July, but it sure was what I was feeling.

Upon arriving at the hospital, I was taken to the emergency room, where the doctors checked me over and took x-rays. After they were done, I waited anxiously for the results. It was not what I expected. The doctor walked in and looked at my mom and me very seriously. “I’ll be blunt,” he said.

“You have a collapsed lung, and you can’t leave this hospital. Otherwise, you could die.” Mom started crying, while I tried to act tough and not let my sudden thoughts of doubt and worry show.

Over the next several weeks, as the doctors tried to figure out how my lung had collapsed, they came to realize that I was sick. It is a chronic sickness, which means I’m not going to get better. Some people who have the same sickness die around 30 or 40, while others live to around 50 or 60. Regardless, I, an 18-year-old-boy about to head off to college, was presented with some mind-blowing thoughts. I have a sickness that, one of these days, will probably end my life. I’m already feeling the effects of it in various ways, like my lung collapse.

For anyone, this would probably bring with it thoughts of despair and worries. It did for me; however, over time, it also has made me think about something else. My bodily sickness is a result of something greater—a soul sickness. I’m in a sin-sick body, and while there’s nothing the doctors can do to help me, I know someone who can help: my Father in heaven.

I’ve tried to be strong; I’ve tried to muster up the resolve to carry myself along by myself. I can’t do it. The sickness of body and soul is an overwhelming matter, and it hit me hard. I wasn’t left without hope, though.

One of my best friends wrote to me not long after with some advice: “Be a wuss who can’t stand on his own feet and needs a daddy who will take care of him.” It was then that I finally realized what it means to really, truly be a Christian. Being a Christian means being so sick that we can’t take care of ourselves, but we have someone who will take care of us NO MATTER WHAT. None of us are strong. None of us are good. None of us are healthy.

But Christ, through His crucifixion and resurrection, gives us His strength and righteousness. He gives it to us in His Word, in Holy Baptism, in the Lord’s Supper, and in the form of a pastor who will forgive us no matter what we confess.

We all have a sin-sickness that affects us spiritually and physically. We all will face death and thoughts of death in this lifetime. Some maybe sooner than others, but it’s coming for us all. As Christians, though, we can take comfort in the fact that our sin was taken from us and nailed to a cross, and one day our bodies will be refined and made into perfect bodies, free from all sin and physical illnesses. Christ is our physician, and He never ceases to take care of us. May we always be reminded of it during this Easter season, as we dwell on the new life our Father has given us in Christ.

Nathan Fischer, 19, attends Concordia University Wisconsin, and is pursuing a career in the Pastoral Ministry