THE WAY AND THE WORD ——— Thy Will Be Done A Physician's Journey into Integrative Medicine

THE WAY

AND

THE WORD

———

Thy Will Be Done

A Physician's Journey into Integrative Medicine

Yoon Hang "John" Kim, MD

PREFACE

"I am the way, the truth, and the life."

— John 14:6

"The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao."

— Tao Te Ching

Since the day I became a doctor, I have carried one prayer with me: "Lord, please send me some of Your people. Let some of Your people receive Your miracle so that we can praise and bless Your name."

It is not a complicated prayer. There is no theological sophistication to it. But it has been the compass of my medical life — spoken in exam rooms and parking lots, whispered before difficult cases, cried out in seasons of doubt. It is the prayer of a physician who believes that healing ultimately belongs to God, and that our highest calling is to be faithful vessels of that work.

In 2007, that prayer was tested in ways I never anticipated. I found myself in Georgia, stranded without a job. It was one of the most difficult seasons of my life. I had a family to support and limited financial resources. I needed to find work that would put my training and experience to use. But even in that dark valley, I sensed that God was not simply leading me toward another paycheck. He was calling me toward something far more lasting and meaningful — something I could not yet see, but was learning to trust. As the prophet Jeremiah wrote, "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future" (Jeremiah 29:11). I held onto those words like a lifeline.

And God answered. Not all at once, and not in the way I expected. He sent me His people — one by one, each arriving at just the right moment. Looking back, I recognize what Scripture describes so beautifully: "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28). At the time, I could not have known the fullness of that promise. I only knew that I was being asked to walk by faith and not by sight (2 Corinthians 5:7).

This book tells the story of that walk — the confluence of events, relationships, and what I can only call grace, which brought together a group of like-minded individuals and led to the creation of Georgia Integrative Medicine. It is a story of risk, reversals, and struggle. But far more importantly, it is a testimony of hope, strength, love, and compassion. It is told from my individual viewpoint, with additional insights from the team members who answered the call alongside me.

In telling this story, I draw from two streams that have shaped my understanding of healing, purpose, and how to live well. The first is my Christian faith — the belief that we are fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14), that suffering has meaning, and that we are called to love and serve one another as the highest expression of our humanity. The second is Taoism, an ancient Chinese philosophy famously articulated in the Tao Te Ching. The word Tao translates as "the way" or "the path," and when I first encountered it, I was struck by how naturally it echoed the words of Christ: "I am the way, the truth, and the life" (John 14:6).

Some may find it unusual to place these two traditions side by side. But I have come to believe that all truth belongs to God, and that He has scattered seeds of His wisdom across every culture and every age. The Tao Te Ching speaks of simplicity, balance, humility, and yielding — principles that resonate deeply with the Beatitudes and the Sermon on the Mount. Both traditions teach that true strength is found in surrender, that the last shall be first, and that the greatest among us are those who serve. As Lao Tzu wrote, "The master stays behind; that is why she is ahead." Jesus knelt and washed the feet of His disciples. The language differs, but the wisdom points toward the same Creator.

I do not claim that these traditions are identical. They are not. Christianity offers what Taoism does not — a personal God who enters into our suffering, who became flesh, who died and rose again. But I believe the Tao can illuminate corners of understanding that deepen our appreciation for the God who made all things. Together, they offer a richer vision of what it means to heal — not just the body, but the whole person: body, mind, and spirit.

Our need for that kind of healing has never been greater. The state of health care in the United States has been deeply broken for decades. We spend more money on health care than any country in the world, with results that fall far short. When I graduated from medical school in 1997, Americans spent $1.1 trillion on personal health care. Within fifteen years, that figure had more than doubled. Yet millions remained uninsured, and the outcomes told a devastating story — some of the highest rates of heart disease, obesity, diabetes, and lung disease in the developed world. We have built a system that treats the symptoms of sickness while ignoring the roots of wellness.

Legislative efforts have sought to increase access, but access to a broken system does not fix the system. The conventional allopathic model, which focuses on suppressing symptoms rather than addressing root causes, is unsustainable. And it almost entirely neglects the spiritual and emotional dimensions of wellness — the very dimensions where true healing so often begins.

In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus heals a paralyzed man by first forgiving his sins — addressing the invisible wound before the visible one. This has always stayed with me. It speaks to a truth that modern medicine desperately needs to recover: that physical illness is frequently entangled with spiritual pain, emotional trauma, unresolved grief, and fractured relationships. You cannot treat the body in isolation and call it healing. As Jesus told the woman at the well, He offers living water — a wholeness that quenches the deepest thirst (John 4:14).

The Tao Te Ching echoes this holistic vision. It teaches that when we live in harmony with the natural order — with ourselves, with others, with the world around us — there is peace, balance, and well-being. When we resist that order, when we force and grasp and strive without rest, illness follows. Both Christ and Lao Tzu understood that healing is not merely the absence of disease. It is a state of wholeness. It is shalom.

My aim in writing this book is to help you, the reader, understand the depth of the problem and to invite you into a different way of thinking about your health, your community, and your God-given purpose. I hope our story will inspire others to begin similar communities — places where people come together with shared values and shared faith, dedicated to the welfare and flourishing of every member. As it says in Ecclesiastes, "Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken" (Ecclesiastes 4:12).

This is not a book of theology, and I am not a theologian. I am a physician who has spent a career searching for better ways to help people heal, guided by one simple prayer. Along the way, I discovered that the ancient wisdom of the East and the living faith of the West have more to offer each other than most people realize. And I discovered that when you build something with integrity, compassion, and trust — when you put people before profit and service before self — God does something remarkable. The path opens up before you, even when you cannot see where it leads.

As the psalmist wrote, "Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path" (Psalm 119:105). The Tao Te Ching says, "The way forward seems to lead back." Both are true. Sometimes you have to lose your way to find it. Sometimes the answer — and the people God has chosen for you — has been waiting all along.

I invite you to walk this path with me.

Yoon Hang "John" Kim, MD