I currently have poison ivy.
My dear, sweet, man of a man husband went on one of his adventures and brought it back with him and shared. Isn’t that sweet?
This is hilarious to me because as a child I HATED school. The whole, wake up early, hurry to get dressed and make it on time (I’m always late) and then sit through hours of someone talking AT you never appealed to me. SO, I was constantly trying to think of ways to MISS school. Luckily (or unluckily for me) I grew up off the beaten path so there was never any lack of poison ivy around my house. Close your eyes now and imagine a little green eyed, brown haired girl picking and RUBBING those dangerous three leaves all over her in hopes of missing school. Cute, huh? Well, to my dismay it never worked out. I never broke out in a rash. The closest thing I have ever experienced to a poison ivy rash is when I got the chicken pocks.
However, here I am, a full grown adult (husband, mortgage, baby, dog) the whole bit and scratching without ceasing. I can’t help but think my Lord gets a kick out of things like this. I had to get my sick sense of humor from somewhere. So we are going on a solid 2 weeks of this crap and I am convinced it’s not getting any better. Okay… maybe a little better but let me sulk a while longer. I’ve tried just about every concoction you can think of aside from just going to the doctor (which I am doing tomorrow because I am a weeny) and it still itches like a son of a gun.
What’s even funnier than my childhood memory of poison ivy is that prior to this current rash becoming a full blown rash, it started as little dots that I thought were just chiggers. I’m from the south, y’all. Chiggers are nothing new to me. I grabbed some fingernail polish (BLUE fingernail polish because I was out of clear) and dabbed away at those little suckers convinced that I had just suffocated and gotten rid of the problem. #winning. If only that were the case. Fast forward a few days of scratching and complaining and you will find me with multiple red splotches on my legs and arm. Sexy. I know.
Sin is this way, isn’t it? Deceiving. Spreading. Hard to get rid of on your own. Not easily recognized at first but soon enough becomes an eye sore. It’s easy to make small compromises in our faith. It’s easy to watch a tv show, a movie, listen to certain music, linger a little too long on a thought, make that snide remark because it’s “just chiggers”. (I’m not talking legalism here, there is freedom in Christ but there is privilege that comes with weight to enter the Holy of Holies. One of my favorite quotes is “sure, I have the grace to cover me if I do that but knowing Grace, why would I?”) It’s not a big deal. You haven’t killed anyone. But there is a price to pay. No, it’s not eternal damnation but suddenly the still small voice becomes much smaller and scarce than you’ve ever known it to be. Then the next week or month or year you find yourself scratching that same itch only this time it’s something more. This time, chiggers are looking a lot more like poison ivy which is funny because you were never allergic to poison ivy before. What do you do? Self medicate, duh. Pull out all the stops. Worship more. Read more. Give more. Do more. But it’s not enough. Why? You HAVE to go The Doctor first. If you don’t stop, evaluate and go to The Doctor first (mmmm I’m preachin right now, y’all), those chiggers are going to be one big not so sexy mess before you know it. NOTHING in your humanity will ever be enough to get rid of your sin. JESUS. Jesus does that.
“But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.” Isaiah 53:5.
Friend, whether you are looking at chiggers or poison ivy today, I DO NOT CARE. Go. To. The. Doctor.
I am. Both physically and spiritually. They are both good. One is just much much MUCH greater.
Selah.
EVERYDAY VALENTINES 