I have always considered myself fairly healthy although I must admit I have never been a shoo-in for Abercrombie ads! I somehow missed that stage and went from being the skinny kid that got towel-popped in gym class to a middle aged guy with dimples on my forehead! I weighed a comfortable 210-ish and could lift a 4x8 piece of 3/4 inch thick plywood over my head and put it pretty much where I wanted it, if accuracy was not an issue! It was not muscle. I simply outweighed it and was marginally more intelligent!
Then in October of 1992 just prior to my 40th birth date, I became ill. It started out subtly and within the next two days steamrolled into an illness of deadly proportions. The first symptom that something was wrong was when I awoke one night to an insane itching over my entire body. After checking around me and determining that my wife had, in fact, NOT staked me to an anthill, I climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom to look in the mirror. What I saw startled me. There was nothing! No swollen, red welts. No ugly blue and purple lesions. I was not infested with lice or fleas, or, as anyone who has ever played in a hayfield will remember, chiggers! There was only the fiery itch that seemed to ripple across every inch of my skin. I spent the rest of that night sitting in a recliner, gently scratching myself all over with a hairbrush while contemplating the historical accuracy of the Book of Job! Over the next 48 hours came the nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and a sickly yellow pallor in my skin and in the whites of my eyes. Being the handyman type that I was, I began to doctor myself. After all, how much difference could there be between refurbishing a refrigerator and restoring myself to perfect health? After a couple of bottles of pink medicine, and various lotions and balms failed to help, I relented and went to a doctor. I still see the look on his face when he walked through the door and saw me sitting on the end of the exam table! His first question was,"Sir, how long have you been drinking? You are evidently in acute liver failure!"
Now while I was certainly no angel, I was taken aback by his question. I had never drank. Didn't smoke, dance, go to movies, dress immodestly, bathe in public (swim), and while I knew a few cuss words, I hardly ever used them!
I will pause this entry of my story by remembering that moment and my wounded preacher pride while sitting in that exam room. I had carefully cultivated my cloak of holiness over the years by all the outward appearances. I was to learn a serious lesson over the next year about myself and my relationship to others and God.
In his book, People Of The Lie, author Dr. Scott Peck defines an evil person as a person who refuses to face his "dark side", or the fact of his sinfulness. In their own eyes, these type of people do no wrong! They militantly refuse to endure the pain of self-exposure to the light of revelation about themselves and endure the process of healing and forgiveness.
In his time on earth Jesus Christ never cried out in condemnation against sin. He would do that only on the cross, in his flesh. What he did cry out against was the propensity of men to spruce up their outside while ignoring the disease that was developing on the inside.
What I learned was that a relationship with God does not soak in from the outside. No matter how much religion you slather on or ingest, salvation can only come by the inner work of the Spirit. May God heal our hearts and fill us all with as much of Himself as we can possibly contain!
Thanks for reading.
I have to get to work.