The Consent 

The other day at 7am I was leafing through the chart of a patient who was about to go for heart surgery, when I saw an unrecognizable scrawl on the consent form on the line where the surgeon was supposed to sign.

Now let me make something clear:  the surgeon’s signature is also a scrawl and it doesn’t contain recognizable words, either.  Yet, looking at the signature, I knew it was wrong.  The scrawl didn’t tell me who HAD signed it, but I knew who had NOT signed it.  I looked up at the anesthesiologist, who was sitting at a computer close by.

“Did you sign this form where the surgeon was supposed to sign?”

“Maybe I did,” the anesthesiologist said, reaching for the form. “Someone put a paper in front of me and I signed it.” (Where was he when I got my mortgage papers?)

I knew it was wrong because I know the surgeon’s signature. The fact that it contains no actual English is beside the point.  I’ve been looking at it for more than three years, and I just know it.  I knew the scrawl on the form was not his. 

This reminds me of Christmas in Wisconsin. I had a small argument with my dad about a book I was reading. He said that he doubted the writer was doctrinely correct compared to the Bible. I told him that it was a great book! 

We ended the conversation amicably enough. Although I hadn’t finished the book I was pretty sure he was wrong, perhaps a trifle close-minded, a touch on the old side. (I’m probably about to have a worse conversation with him if he reads this!)

I returned to Indiana and my book and kept reading beside my favorite fireplace.

As I read on, I thought, hmmm, maybe my dad was right. (Imagine that!) There was something not quite right about the presentation. The book had great things to say, but something did seem a little off. 

Finally, I quit reading it and tossed it in my kitchen trash. It was a strange moment. 

I couldn’t put my finger on the doctrine in the book. I couldn’t identify it. But I knew who’s doctrine it was not. I was suddenly convinced that it was not authentically Christian.

Why did I know it was wrong? I mulled over this question, and I realized that the years I have spent studying Jesus Christ have given me a growing (if slow!) ability to recognize His work. 

In that preop situation, once we had identified that the wrong doctor had signed the line, we had to reject the form. We had to get it signed by the surgeon. 

These consent forms are enormously important in today’s healthcare climate. It needs to be clear that the patient is willfully putting their life in the hands of this particular surgeon. In fact, they are putting their risk of death in his hands. They are saying that they are willing to let him work on their heart even though they know it might cause their death. 

No other name will do. Even a stamp of the surgeon’s name is not sufficient. It has to be a real signature of the surgeon who is doing the work!  That’s why I snapped open the chart and took out the faulty paper. That’s why the anesthesiologist took it from me, knowing it was wrong and had to be changed.

There are so many counterfeits of Christ in the world, that the challenge is probably more complicated than that of recognizing the surgeons’ signatures. 

But the solution is the same! If it’s the work of the wrong person it has to go. There is only one Person to whom I willfully and completely trust my life and my risk of death, and that person is Jesus Christ. He is the only person with whom I am willing to make that deal.

Unless his name is on the line, I pray for the insight, the wisdom, and the awareness to withdraw my consent.