Ask Jonathots… July 7th, 2016

 Jonathots Daily Blog

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Will God give a doctor or medical researcher ideas on how to cure a disease or sickness if they merely ask Him?

Most people favor the 23rd Psalm: “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.”

Although I do extol the beauty of that passage, I prefer Psalm 24:1: “The Earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof.”

It’s a strong message. The Earth is complete within itself. Even though we have bacteria and viruses, there are also–growing and prospering right next to them–the cures.

If I were a doctor, I would keep this in mind.

If I were researching remedies for diseases, I would understand that the Earth is a complete creation, stocked full of ready solutions, waiting to be discovered.

I would suggest a three-fold process to gain the wisdom of God’s creative mind, to tap these unknown resources:

1. Study holistic medicine.

I’m not talking about superstitions, but instead, the use of herbs and chemicals that are common to Earth, and have been utilized for centuries by cultures to treat ailments.

Don’t rule out anything.

We should not allow the pharmaceutical companies to determine the destiny of the health of humanity simply based upon margins of profit.

Study what has been used by those in the past, and weed out the possibilities that fail to deliver results.

2. Pay special attention to plants, organisms and compounds that seem to have little purpose–or have been used only for excess and vice.

After all, what would the medical field be without alcohol?

Look at what we’re discovering about the medical use of marijuana.

So what does the tobacco plant hold in secret that we have not yet tapped?

Yes, I think special interest should be given to things that seem to be cast aside as vices, with seemingly little virtue.

3. And finally, I think it’s important for us to shorten the time between the discovery of a possible cure and the trial study done on humans.

There are thousands of people dying of cancer who would be more than willing to sign a release of responsibility in order to participate in a study which just might lead to extending their lives. I don’t see anything wrong with that.

It is currently taking too long to get good ideas into the hands of people who need them–and we are still ending up with drugs that have dangerous side-effects anyway. So let’s shorten the process and give terminal patients a chance to either be healed or at least contribute to the common good by participating in research.

If you are a doctor and you understand that “the Earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof,” then you can completely comprehend that through prayer and seeking wisdom, you are out to discover the miracle that already exists.

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Untotaled: Stepping 45 (November ?, 1968) Cobalt … December 13, 2014

  Jonathots Daily Blog

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(Transcript)

I don’t remember the exact day.

I recall it was cold and November, which is standard fare in Ohio.

My parents had taken a trip to Columbus and my mother returned late that evening, without my father in tow. I didn’t think much about it. I was nearly seventeen years old and preoccupied with the status of my burgeoning sideburns.

She was sullen–my mother, that is. This was not unusual. She was given to fits of extremes, and I was fully aware that when she was in this condition, to stay clear–for everything about me was a potential object for attack.

I hid out in my room, and then heard a knock on my door. It was her.

She came in and sat down with tears in her eyes. She told me that “Daddy” was in Columbus in the hospital, diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. I never called him “Daddy.”

It was a strange sensation. I knew I was supposed to feel something. i really wanted to, and was aware that she expected me to, so I mustered some emotion.

I told her I wanted to be alone, and she complied.

When the door was closed I turned off the light, laid down on my bed and thought about the man who was my father.

We had never been close.

He was forty-eight years old when I was born so I am sure it was a little awkward for him to have a toddler, and finally a teen, jostling about the house.

He was a stoic man, not free with his feelings, leaving you wondering half the time if he had fondness in your direction whatsoever.

But now he was sick. That makes a difference, you know.

Two days later he returned from the hospital.

We were told he would begin cobalt radiation treatments the next week. He tried to smile and muster a brave profile but I could tell he was terrified, and once the treatments began it was even worse.

At that point in medical research, therapy was more or less an attempt to scorch the cancer, thus literally burning up the flesh around it. Cobalt.

He was red and swollen, but still desperately tried to connect with me to make amends for years of uncomfortable silence.

I was a jerk. I repelled him.

I was a teenager, and it was required of me to have a bit of aversion toward my father figure, but he really needed me to be more forgiving. I did not possess the capacity.

Christmas was sparse that year.

The nutcracker was down.

It was difficult to get our minds on “Joy to the World” when Dad was suffering and dying.

 

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