If you were to climb my family tree, you would encounter Gideon in one of the branches. Like him, I seek reassurance. Unlike the eye of a storm, the center of God’s will is not always a place of quiet stillness. Once upon a turbulent time, the Lord calmed my fears in an unusual way.

Several years ago, I felt that the Lord was leading me back into the field of obstetrics and gynecology. Before that, I had spent years in Cameroon doing general medicine in the African bush or behind prison bars (as the doctor—not the prisoner!) The opportunity presented itself after we moved to a new location. Mbingo Baptist Hospital was several hours from our house, but the drive wasn’t as far as the journey required to “catch up” in my field. I had been out of the operating room for approximately 15 years! My hands and my head required a refresher course.

Happily, the Lord provided me with a mentor. Dr Jarrett, a retired OB/GYN from Indiana, booked a ticket to Cameroon to assist a young doctor at Mbingo hospital, but the younger physician left Cameroon before Dr. Jarrett’s arrival. Since he already had tickets, I wrote and explained my situation: “Would you be willing to help me polish my rusty skills? “Sure!” He replied, “But I have a question. Do you want crunchy or smooth peanut butter!?” (PB is hard to find in Africa). We worked together for several weeks.

Then another OB/GYN providentially visited the hospital, and we worked side by side. In case you didn’t know it, operating is enjoyable! (Particularly when everything is going well AND you have a partner in the OR). On the other hand, surgery can be stressful when you hold the scalpel, and the case is entirely in your hands.

Doubts followed me like my shadow into the delivery room and operating room: Was it really the Lord’s will for me to re-enter the maternity ward? Should I be operating again? Some of my former colleagues were getting out of obstetrics, and I was diving back in! Still, I felt a kinship with Caleb of old and desired to tackle my mountain. Maybe this seems strange to you, but regaining my skills seemed like battling my way back into the “promised land.” I bolstered my confidence with Joshua’s conquest, and. I composed a prayer like this in my journal: “Lord, help me to have courage and strength; help me to cross the Jordan despite my fears. Conquer my doubts. Help me to re-enter this old (yet new) territory by your strength.”

Though lofty and courageous in a prayer closet, the inspiration lost momentum between the closet and the operating room! I was standing gloved and gowned beside my patient, and an OR tech was opposite me. My security-blanket surgeon had returned to the USA. My hands rested on the patient. She was my first case “alone.” Doubts descended, and fears surfaced. Is this a good idea? Whose idea was it? Am I pursuing my desires, or is this what the Lord desires of me?

Before operating, the surgical team always commits the case to the Lord. The anesthetist offered to pray so that we could begin. Strangely (aka miraculously), he bowed his head and said: “Lord, give us courage and strength today. Make us like Caleb. Help us to cross the Jordan, enter the promised land, and claim your promise.” (At this point, I considered peeking to see if an angel were standing there with my prayer journal in his hand!) The pre-op prayer had nothing to do with the patient! But it had everything to do with a doctor named, “Oh-she-of-little-faith.”

The surgery went well, and that day in the operating room, the Great Physician treated two patients.