An email came to my inbox a few months ago advertising an internal position having nothing to do with surgery. I deleted it. Then through a meandering path of conversations, in person and on Twitter, with friends and colleagues both at home and away, I had a change of heart. Something compelled me to desperately dig through my deleted emails until I found this one. I felt a little nauseous dragging it back to my active inbox. I let it sit there for a few more days, then I crafted a reply.

I have spent nearly the last two decades making sure my life is tidy, predictable and safe. We have a very nice home in the suburbs. I just bought a well engineered German car that is comfortable and has airbags in every crevice. Our children are well mannered, succeed in school, and save for somewhat of an excess of screen time that I have not the energy to meticulously monitor, we appear to be doing just fine raising them. I have a lovely office at work with a plush sofa and my own private bathroom; all of my professional certificates are hung neatly on the wall and I have decorative lamps for evening reading when on I’m call. I have become deft with the scalpel and scissors, the tools of my trade; the symbols of my career and my passion. I am meeting my professional milestones and my patients appear to be faring well under my watch.

All of this represents what I know, what I love and what I have worked very hard for. The symbols of my security.

But deep in the quiet places of my heart, I can hear a whisper. I can feel a tugging. I am being stirred. That email…

When Jesus walked up to Simon and Andrew on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, He said, “C’mon guys. Follow me.” How ridiculously crazy? Follow to where? To do what? But they did. They dropped their nets, the symbol of their livelihood and purpose, fishing, to follow Jesus! (Mark 1:16-18) Somehow they knew…Yes, we can do this. It will be ok. We need to go.

I need to leave my net, in my heart and mind, anyway. I need to pursue this growing passion in me…that has nothing to do with a scalpel, but more to do with matters of the heart, the care of ourselves and each other. Whether this particular role at work pans out or not, the hours I have spent talking, reading, studying, and writing about the unique emotional space we find ourselves in as healers, have softened my heart and challenged me in amazing ways.

It’s scary to leave my net. Will I have to take a new office? Will I have to change my daily routine? Will there be meetings I wish I didn’t have to attend? Probably, yes, to all of these. When Simon and Andrew dropped their nets, did they calculate the cost and then follow Jesus? No. They followed the stirring in their hearts immediately. The cost would be minor in comparison to the loss of silencing the prompting that they felt that day.

Jesus doesn’t give us passions, stirrings, promptings or strategic conversations in order for us to endlessly deliberate the options. He breathes into us a small fire, places in front of us opportunities, and cheers us on to join Him. To be brave enough, to trust enough to shift course. To leave our nets.

Disclaimer: My viewpoints are not necessarily reflective of my employer, or any local, regional or national organization that I belong to. As a matter of fact, I pretty much just speak for myself. Please keep that in mind.