Not too many weeks ago when I had a check-up with the cornea specialist, she discovered that my vision had decreased markedly and my eye pressure had more than doubled. My other doctor, the one who deals with the rare things, was away, so she made an appointment for his next available opening, less than a week from then. They gave me the time and day and said, “Will that work?”
This has been a long journey with a lot of pain and anxiety, but I was relatively calm. If I became hysterical every time I received a bad report, I would have completely worn myself out by now. But maybe that is why they felt the need to ask—to make sure I was taking things seriously. “I will make it work,” I told them. If it had meant canceling a dozen other plans or walking the whole thirty miles I would have made it work.
Too many times we don’t take our sin seriously. We act like it is no big deal, except big enough to get mad at anyone who might actually point out our faults. We know enough to say “I am not perfect,” but certainly let us not admit a specific fault under any circumstance. Do we think it will simply go away?
If I had ignored my appointment, the pressure would not have gone down. It would have risen to the point that I lost my vision almost immediately, instead of over the long haul. So why do we think ignoring our sins will make them go away?
Israel did the same thing in the Old Testament. Though there were priests and prophets who could heal their spiritual ailments, they not only ignored them, they persecuted them and even killed them. Along came the later generations of the New Testament, and they killed their Physician too.
How ridiculous is it when people will not take their medicine just because it tastes bad, and so they become sicker, or even die? And how ridiculous is it when we will not take care of our spiritual illnesses just because we are too proud to admit we might be wrong about something?
Yet they both happen. I would say, though, that most of us take our physical lives far more seriously than the spiritual. One day we will understand how misplaced those priorities are. I hope that bit of wisdom comes soon enough.
For the wound of the daughter of my people is my heart wounded; I mourn, and dismay has taken hold on me. Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then has the health of the daughter of my people not been restored? Jer 8:21,22.
Dene Ward
This has been a long journey with a lot of pain and anxiety, but I was relatively calm. If I became hysterical every time I received a bad report, I would have completely worn myself out by now. But maybe that is why they felt the need to ask—to make sure I was taking things seriously. “I will make it work,” I told them. If it had meant canceling a dozen other plans or walking the whole thirty miles I would have made it work.
Too many times we don’t take our sin seriously. We act like it is no big deal, except big enough to get mad at anyone who might actually point out our faults. We know enough to say “I am not perfect,” but certainly let us not admit a specific fault under any circumstance. Do we think it will simply go away?
If I had ignored my appointment, the pressure would not have gone down. It would have risen to the point that I lost my vision almost immediately, instead of over the long haul. So why do we think ignoring our sins will make them go away?
Israel did the same thing in the Old Testament. Though there were priests and prophets who could heal their spiritual ailments, they not only ignored them, they persecuted them and even killed them. Along came the later generations of the New Testament, and they killed their Physician too.
How ridiculous is it when people will not take their medicine just because it tastes bad, and so they become sicker, or even die? And how ridiculous is it when we will not take care of our spiritual illnesses just because we are too proud to admit we might be wrong about something?
Yet they both happen. I would say, though, that most of us take our physical lives far more seriously than the spiritual. One day we will understand how misplaced those priorities are. I hope that bit of wisdom comes soon enough.
For the wound of the daughter of my people is my heart wounded; I mourn, and dismay has taken hold on me. Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then has the health of the daughter of my people not been restored? Jer 8:21,22.
Dene Ward
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