Don’t say I’m not sentential.
The surgeon sat beside the boy’s bed; the boy’s parents sat across from him. “Tomorrow morning,” the surgeon began, “I’ll open up your heart…”
“You’ll find Jesus there,” the boy interrupted.
The surgeon looked up, annoyed. “I’ll cut your heart open,” he continued, “to see how much damage has been done…”
“But when you open up my heart, you’ll find Jesus in there.” The surgeon looked to the parents, who sat quietly.
“When I see how much damage has been done, I’ll sew your heart and chest back up and I’ll plan what to do next.”
“But you’ll find Jesus in my heart. The Bible says He lives there. The hymns all say He lives there. You’ll find Him in my heart.”
The surgeon had had enough. “I’ll tell you what I’ll find in your heart. I’ll find damaged muscle, low blood supply, and weakened vessels. And I’ll find out if I can make you well.”
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