The weekend before Easter, I experienced a health care situation that, essentially for the first time, put me on the other side of a hospital room door. A couple of days prior, I developed some serious stomach pain that increased for two days. Medicine and rest did nothing to alleviate it. After a sleepless night, I drove myself to the ER with little idea of what was going on. After a scan, the ER doctor came to my room and told me I had acute cholecystitis (an infected and inflamed gallbladder) likely caused by a gallstone blocking a bile duct. This conversation took place early on Friday morning (Good Friday) before Easter Sunday. Now, Easter is the biggest Sunday on the church calendar. It should be. Easter is the day that changed everything. If Jesus was raised from the dead, then he is Lord, and we must follow and obey him. At our church, we go all out for Easter: louder, bigger, more celebration. We also know that people who don’t yet know Jesus will be in attendance. I had been working on my Easter message for weeks. Our church had initially planned an outdoor Easter service, but on Thursday before Sunday we reversed plans due to anticipated rain. We planned to have three Sunday morning services, and I was getting excited about preaching. I had invited people and was hopeful that this Easter was the day they would meet Jesus and become Christ followers. I looked up at the ER doctor and said, “I’m a pastor, and Easter Sunday is a big deal. What would happen if I waited til Monday to have surgery?” Deadpan and honest, the doctor replied, “You would likely go septic and might die.” I knew then that this Easter would be very different than I had anticipated.

Later that morning I was transferred to Atrium Wake Forest in Winston Salem to have emergency surgery to remove my gallbladder. Because it was a weekend and a holiday weekend on top of that, it took longer to have surgery than we anticipated. I finally went down for surgery around 4 am Saturday morning. Due to the shortage of surgeons/doctors and the multiple other cases like mine, we didn’t get to speak to a doctor about the surgery until around 5 pm Saturday evening. Eventually I learned that while the surgery was successful, a stone blocking a bile duct could not be removed. The duct had to be cut and closed off. Typically, gallbladder surgery finishes by the surgeon shooting dye in the ducts to see if there are any other stones blocking any other ducts. Because my duct had to be closed, they couldn’t run that particular test. This meant I had to stay around another day for more tests (an MRI and bloodwork). The MRI happened late Saturday and bloodwork during the night. But again, the holiday weekend meant I would have to wait until late in the afternoon on Sunday to get word from the doctors whether I was staying for another procedure or heading home. As a result, I was going to be in a hospital room on Easter Sunday.

I’ve spent some time thinking, analyzing, and lamenting the way I spent my weekend. While I don’t have all the answers to my questions, I do have some observations from the other side of the hospital room door.

One, the experience from the other side of a hospital room door is different. I’m used to making visits and checking on people. That’s part of my job as a pastor. Over the past few years, I’ve spent time in hospital rooms with my father admitted for procedures or for a cancer diagnosis. Hospitals don’t make me uncomfortable or nervous. However, I would much rather be the one checking on someone than the one under the care of doctors and nurses. After experiencing the necessary indignities of pain, iv’s, vitals being checked at all hours, sutures, not being able to shower, hospital food, fasting, lack of rest, I understand far more clearly the challenges of being a patient in a hospital room. I know God will use this situation in my life to better sympathize with others.

Two, I am thankful for life-saving surgeries, for doctors, but especially for nurses. Infected gallbladder removal is pretty common but very serious if left unattended. I’m glad the medical professionals knew what to do and that I can write today because I’m not dying with an infection. My overall experience at the hospital on a holiday weekend could have been better. There was a lot of hurry up and wait. There were serious communication gaps where my wife and I were left in the dark for too long. It was half a day after surgery before a doctor explained anything to either of us about how the procedure went and what was next. But the nurses and nursing assistants (all of them) were excellent. From Patti to Kim to Cydelle and Curtis to Lucy, the nurses were knowledgeable, patient, attentive, and excellent in their caregiving. I’m glad the doctors/surgeons were there to save my life, but the nurses are the frontlines of hospital care. My nurses not only cared for me but explained so much that was left unanswered by others.

Three, “for better or worse, in sickness and in health” is a real promise. My wife is absolutely the best. Health care today necessitate self advocacy or someone with you who can advocate for your care. My wife did that and more. She’s sweet as she can be, loving, attentive, and helpful, but she is fiery and diligent as an advocate. I was in too much pain and out of it to be a good advocate for myself. She advocated for me lovingly but firmly. She owned her vows this week in ways I couldn’t have anticipated when we were married nearly 23 years ago. When you’re young and in love, you don’t often think about the days of challenge ahead. Dates and movies, kisses and cuddles shape the relationship of young couples. When children arrive, attention turns to them. Now, as we move into middle age, we have to pay more attention to our heath than ever before. Love for us this weekend and through this week was not a date or chocolates or even kisses and hugs, but a night on an uncomfortable chair, questions for doctors and nurses, caretaking of our boys, and warming my shivering body with her hairdryer after a shower at home. Marriage to Jean has been so much more and so much better than I ever imagined. Thank you sweetheart for loving me by helping me get better.

Four, I am thankful for our church staff and leaders at WBC during this very different Easter weekend. Easter Sunday at WBC broke records for attendance. We had to set out chairs in the sanctuary for the 9:30 service. The music was spectacular and our Associate Pastor Tad Craig preached his first Easter Sunday message on 48 hours notice. My wife and youngest son came to the hospital room and watched the livestream with me on Easter Sunday. My oldest sang in the choir at church on Sunday. And I got to watch on a computer from my hospital room. It was weird and different. I didn’t know how I would really feel about it all. If I could have picked any other day, week, or Sunday to miss for life-saving surgery, I would have. Even now, I still don’t know exactly what God’s plan or purpose was in all of it. But here are some things I do know. As I watched our live-streamed service, I was not mad or angry or depressed or jealous. I was thankful and proud (in a good way I think) of Wilkesboro Baptist Church. Our move several years ago to a plurality of elders has paid dividends over and over again. Shared leadership with brothers who love and oversee the church together has been a great blessing to me and our congregation. Tad preached an encouraging, direct message on Easter. Brian and our music team sang out big and bold three times on Sunday. Ushers directed and helped seat nearly 800 attenders. Elders led and deacons served and church members worshiped and everything went super smooth even after a Thursday pivot from an outdoor service to three Sunday morning services. And I wasn’t there for any of it. Credit goes to our staff, elders, deacons, and servants. Most importantly credit goes to God whose worth and glory are the reasons for our Easter celebration. God is doing some things at our church. If you’re a part of WBC, let’s be thankful and join him in what he’s doing. If you’re reading this and not a part of a local church, find one where God is working. If you’re looking for a place in the Wilkesboro area, give Wilkesboro Baptist a visit. God is doing some exciting things at our church.

Five, being a pastor of a church means that I also need the care of my church community. Here’s a little more about my church. We care for people well. From meals, visits, cards, and prayers, our church loves those who are hurting and in the hospital. I’ve experienced that this week with texts, prayers, phone calls, cards, meals, and love. Pastors may oversee the church, but before they are the church’s overseers, they are still church members who need the care of the church. We’ve needed our church family this week, and they came through. Thank you WBC for the way you’ve prayed for me and cared for my family this week.

Six, God’s presence is real and personal. Thinking clearly and resting are not easy to do after surgery in a hospital. But I did have a lot of time to think, contemplate, and pray. Especially during my MRI where I had to lie flat on my back without moving with a device sitting on my surgery scarred chest, I was not comfortable or at ease. But I was profoundly aware of God’s presence. During those moments, I prayed through the model prayer of Matthew 6:9-13 and Psalm 23. I repeated and prayed the phrase, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me, your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” As I prayed and meditated, God gave me a sense of his presence and peace. David’s imagery harkens to a deep cut in a low valley where the sheep would have to follow the shepherd single file. Death’s shadow are the tentacles of sickness, suffering, war, or injury that serve as death’s emissaries to the living. Death’s shadow does not always result in death, but it does connect the living to the dying for it is often those things that bring death. As I preached through Psalm 23 several years ago, one question struck me about this verse. Where was the Shepherd in the valley? Answer: he was still leading. Our Shepherd leads us to green pastures and still waters just as he sometimes leads us through the shadow’s of death’s valley. Because I know he is leading, I can follow the good Shepherd wherever he takes me. God’s love was just as real for me in that MRI chamber and hospital room on Easter Sunday as it would have been if I was preaching at WBC. If nothing else comes from Easter 2026 for me, I’m more assured than ever of God’s presence and leadership in my life.

Seven, laughing hurts. Post-surgery pain is nothing like the discomfort prior to surgery. But the largest incision through my abdominal muscle hurts badly when it contracts. The shivering after my shower was excruciating. As I heal, the muscle pain has gotten better even when contracting. Even so, when my youngest son has started laughing, it has caused me to laugh and experience terrible pain. Even so, laughter is such good medicine. As I laugh and my abdomen contracts, muscle healing continues. Better today than yesterday. Better tomorrow than today. I look forward to laughing without pain.