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What I Thought Being a Chaplain Would Be — and What It Really Is

Lessons from Life and Death as a Chaplain

Judy Hansen
Backyard Church

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Image credit: Ridofranz on iStock

I don’t know if it was a premonition or something else, but some years ago I saw myself working in a hospital doing my rounds, giving the sick and dying hope. Maybe I saw myself as some kind of bedside saint, endlessly absorbing human suffering and helping others find meaning, feeling energized by my service to their need.

I had this naïve image of hospitals of people languishing in hospital beds seeking meaning. They only lacked a chaplain to help them find it—me, of course. I would come along and offer my pearls of wit and wisdom, and they would be oh so very grateful. God would smile upon me, and they would be blessed.

Uh-huh.

The Harsh Realities of Hospital Life

Then I became a chaplain and it was nothing like I imagined. It’s so much more. It’s exhausting on levels I didn’t expect and holy in ways I never imagined. It’s heartbreaking to the point where I’m often tempted to walk away and leave all that suffering behind.

The hospital I work at is known for its great care of patients. It’s clean, the floors polished, and there’s nary a whiff of a bad smell anywhere. But nothing can cover up the humiliation of being…

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