“Code Blue ED2! Code Blue ED2!”
The announcement came over the loudspeaker in the middle of my daytime shift, so I dashed to the elevator and headed downstairs to the Emergency Department (ED).
A “Code Blue” (often just shortened to “Code”) is the call sign when a patient’s heart has stopped, and when those words come over the intercom at a hospital, a well organized team of people leap into action. Medical techs, nurses, and doctors grab the necessary equipment and rush to the patient’s bedside to begin CPR, administer medications, shock if necessary, and bring them back to life. It can be a horrifying sight for a family: a team of medical professionals descending on their loved one and pumping forcefully on his or her chest for up to an hour as they attempt to restart necessary bodily functions. That’s why I’m there too. As a chaplain, it’s my job to enter that chaotic moment and sit with the patient’s family. It’s not uncommon for family members to go into shock, so whether they’re religious or not, having someone there just to sit beside them is a help. I’ll pray if asked to, but my main purpose is just support.
I was fully prepared to do this as I rushed out of the elevator and up the hall to the ED that day. I had a Bible and a Book of Common Prayer in my bag, as well as a small wooden cross in my jacket pocket, and I knew where to get items of ritual significance to other faiths if the family asked. I rounded the corner and saw the hub of the ED looking no different than usual. There was no mob of people flying in and out of room 2; the patient looked awake and peaceful. What was going on? Confused, I walked up to the unit coordinator’s station and said to her more as a question than a statement: “I’m responding to the Code?” She groaned, explained to me that the new switchboard operator had made a mistake, and then she said something that has stuck with me ever since:
We would never call a Code response in the ED; we ARE the Code response.
As those words hit me, I looked around the room and saw people moving at a faster pace than anywhere else in the hospital. Quick assessments, new admissions, stabilizing patients to be moved to other floors— the ED doesn’t call for help; the ED is the help that other units call for. The faces in that room were the faces I had seen at other Code Blues throughout the hospital,
the ones who drop everything and run to the rescue,
the ones you call in an emergency.
As I walked sheepishly out of the ED, another thought occurred to me:
To work in that setting is to be in a mode of constant crisis and perpetual stress. Sure, for a hospital emergency team, that is a good and necessary thing —their vigilance saves lives—, but how does it affect us when we live our personal lives that way? I’m sure you’ve experienced it:
That job where, every single day, you were sure that you were going to get fired.
That tumultuous relationship where you were expecting a breakup at any moment.
That season where money was so tight that you never knew if you’d be able to pay your bills each month.
When we’re in crisis mode, it prevents us from enjoying life. We get locked into one aspect of our existence and can’t shift our focus anywhere else. We can’t look up from the wave after wave of our own emergencies to see one another.
By contrast, remember that rest is a biblical virtue.
Rest is outlined for us in Genesis.
It is a major theme in the Psalms.
Jesus promises rest in the gospels.
And the Apostles proclaim rest as a gift from God.
So how are you giving your spirit rest in the midst of this world’s ebb and flow? If you’ve been in constant crisis mode in your professional, personal, or spiritual life, how is your soul? How is that spirit of constant crisis affecting your friendships and relationships? What will help you say “enough”? How will you reclaim rest?
As a serial sabbath-breaker myself, I find the words of others significantly more helpful on this topic, so check out this prayer from Shane Claiborne, Jonathan Wilson Hartgrove, and Enuma Okoro’s Common Prayer:
Lord of Creation,
create in us a new rhythm of life
composed of hours that sustain rather than stress,
of days that deliver rather than destroy,
of time that tickles rather than tackles.
Lord of Liberation,
by the rhythm of your truth, set us free
from the bondage and baggage that break us,
from the Pharaohs and fellows who fail us,
from the plans and pursuits that prey upon us.
Lord of Resurrection,
may we be raised into the rhythm of your new life,
dead to deceitful calendars,
dead to fleeting friend requests,
dead to the empty peace of our accomplishments.
To our packed-full planners, we bid, “Peace!”
To our over-caffeinated consciences, we say, “Cease!”
To our suffocating selves, Lord, grant release.
Drowning in a sea of deadlines and death chimes,
we rest in you, our lifeline.
By your ever-restful grace,
allow us to enter your Sabbath rest
as your Sabbath rest enters into us.
In the name of our Creator,
our Liberator,
our Resurrection and Life,
we pray.
Amen.