by M. R. Wells
Skin sores aren’t the only wounds that may keep festering when licked. This same truth applies to emotional “owies” as well. I found this out firsthand with respect to a horribly painful hot spot of guilt involving my mother.
Mom was battling chronic leukemia for the last few years of her life. She had other health issues as well. At one point she was dealing with pneumonia, and had been hospitalized. When she came home, she still wasn’t feeling right. A caregiver and I thought it might be due to anxiety and her weakened physical state. I reassured her over the phone and got feedback that she seemed to be doing better.
I wasn’t quite at peace, though. A thought niggled at my brain. Could she be having heart problems? But Mom preferred alternative therapies to Western medicine and fought going to more traditional doctors. Would she even be willing to see a cardiologist, and undergo testing?
It crossed my mind to call Mom’s primary care physician and tell her what Mom’s symptoms were. But I was in the midst of finishing a book manuscript. Mom had just been in the hospital, right? She was doing a bit better, wasn’t she? And she had nurses at home. I pushed the thought aside and let things be.
A few days later, I spoke with Mom on a Sunday afternoon. She sounded upbeat and strong. I hung up and plowed into my manuscript work. Two hours later, a phone call shattered my calm. Mom had been rushed to the hospital. It turned out she’d had a life-threatening heart attack.
Munchie had a couple of hot spots on his rear end, tail, and leg. I had a monster hot spot of guilt on my own heart. Why had I been so self-consumed? Why hadn’t I listened to that warning voice in my head? Why hadn’t I at least called her doctor to express concern? Maybe Mom would have resisted a checkup and tests…but she might have agreed. And if she had, perhaps the heart attack could have been averted and she wouldn’t be fighting for her life in the ER!
Amazingly, at the age of 90, Mom survived this near-death experience and a procedure to deal with some blocked arteries. And gradually, I let up on gnawing at my guilt hot spot. I understood that even though I blew it, God forgave me. I understood that Jesus died to cover my sins of selfishness and negligence (and all my others) with His blood. But the wound still burned with my own self-condemnation, and my impulse was to keep on licking. I had to fight this…and as Mom slowly seemed to improve, it got a bit easier to do.
I hoped the surgical procedure and Mom’s follow-up medication and care would buy her an extra two or three years of life. It was not to be. Five months later she started going into repeated congestive heart failure. Her cardiologist told me her heart was tired and couldn’t go on. With Mom’s consent, she was put into hospice and died days later.
Needless to say, my guilt hot spot flared again. I was tempted to chew it into a red-hot boil. But I knew it wasn’t what she would have wanted, or what God desired. I knew I needed to let God “cone” me anew with the pardon Jesus purchased, and gradually, I did. I have also tried to honor Mom’s memory and use the resources she left me in ways that would please and honor her and my Lord.
Munchie the dog didn’t realize gnawing at his hot spots would make them worse, not better. I did, but I still had to fight the impulse to do so. I have to think the apostle Paul might have faced the same struggle. His hot spot of guilt came from having persecuted the early church and having stood by while Stephen was martyred. But he also understood God’s grace. That’s why he wrote in 1 Timothy 1:13-14, “Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.”
Munchie has been with me a year and a half now. He is owie-free. His shaved fur has grown back lush and plush. But he and my other four-foots still need their once-a-month flea treatment to keep the problem from recurring.
I also need ongoing “flea treatment” for the sins that try to jump on me and bite me and give me spiritual sores. I need to confess to God on an ongoing basis. And I need to receive the forgiveness He so freely gives—so I can be lush and plush in serving Him.
Let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water (Hebrews 10:22).
Consider This:
Have you ever kept picking at a wound of guilt? How did this impact your physical and emotional health? How did it affect you spiritually? Do you need to ask forgiveness of others and God, and let Him “cone” and heal you?
Gone with the Wyndy
Don’t Be Deceived
Man’s mind is so formed that it is far more
susceptible to falsehood than to truth.
DESIDERIUS ERASMUS
Geldenwynde Wilson was the registered name for Wyndy, a beautiful, well-trained four-year-old golden retriever. She belonged to Steven Wilson and his family. Wyndy loved her people and showed it in many wonderful canine ways. She slept when they slept. She always joined in when they sat together to watch TV. But her favorite thing was to play outside. She would fetch anything they threw for her, and return it with vigor. Of course, there were times when she would take the object to be fetched and run with it—as her people gave chase, yelling happily.
Quite often, Wyndy would also travel with the Wilsons. She seemed to enjoy it immensely. But on one particular occasion, the destination for their weekend trip was not suitable for dogs, so they left Wyndy home.
Wyndy’s family put out a large bowl of food for her, because they knew she only ate when she was hungry. They filled a five-gallon bucket with water for her to drink. They left their old truck in the backyard so Wyndy knew they would not be gone permanently. That truck had been “hers” since puppyhood. Wyndy dug a hole beside the wheel to lie in and put a rag in it for a snuggle.
As they were leaving, the family hugged Wyndy and said goodbye. They thought they’d just be apart for a couple of days. But when they returned, Wyndy was nowhere to be seen.
The Wilsons checked the neighborhood. Wyndy was a friendly dog and everyone knew her. But their search came up empty. No one had seen her. They called the pound, but she was not there. Then they put up signs everywhere and waited anxiously for a response, praying their beloved Wyndy would be found.
A few days later, they got a phone call. A friendly female voice spoke to them. She said she thought she had the Wilsons’ dog. Was it a beautiful golden retriever? Their answer was an eager, grateful Yes! The kind voice said the dog looked dirty, hungry, and tired—but well. Then the caller asked, “What is your dog’s name?”
Steven was filled with excitement to think that Wyndy was finally found. He said the dog’s name without thinking twice. He heard Wyndy’s toenails clicking on the floor as he imagined her getting up to run to the phone in response to her master’s voice.
The kind voice on the other end of the line called, “Here Wyndy, here girl!” Then the voice said, “Yep, this is her. Thanks!” The unknown person hung up and was never heard from again.
Wyndy’s people were stunned. What they thought was a kind, friendly voice was really a deceiving, evil one. But, what could they do? They prayed again for Wyndy, but this time they prayed that her new family would love her and take good care of her.
Though the circumstances were different, my son, John, and some friends of his also wound up with someone who pretended to be other than he was. They were on a school band trip in Florida and had a free day to explore. A taxi-type car stopped in front of them and the driver told them to get into the car for a day of wonderful experiences. Although the man seemed safe enough, the boys declined and kept on walking. The man stuck with them and persisted in trying to change their minds. He said he could show them things they had never seen before. The boys continued to refuse. Finally the man said in a rather gruff voice, “Boys, get in the car.” For whatever reason, they reluctantly gave in.
Their bogus “tour gu
ide” showed them some sights, then took them to a bar where he told them they could drink without getting caught. The boys told him they weren’t interested. They asked the man to take them back to the place where he’d picked them up. Instead, he took them to a tunnel and told them it was the end of the ride unless they gave him money. They refused. The man left them there—miles from where they needed to be. It took them most of the afternoon to get back. Fortunately, they made it—tired but safe—when so much harm could have come to them.
Like the person who took Wyndy, this man was a deceiver. At first, his offer sounded like it could be fun. But it didn’t take long for John and his friends to realize that he was evil and they were in harm’s way. I don’t know if the boys prayed during the time they were in this man’s clutches, but the whole trip was being constantly lifted up in prayer. Many parents, students, and friends were asking God to keep everyone safe, and I’m sure that’s what kept them from a worse result.
Wyndy’s family won’t ever know the whole story of how she was taken. The woman caller said she’d found Wyndy out on the road. Maybe Wyndy was fooled by the woman’s seemingly kind voice and went with her. She had never known anything but love and kindness. And perhaps the woman needed a dog so badly that she was willing to break the hearts of an entire family to fill her need. Nevertheless, it was wrong. And the man who lured the boys into his car may have been in it only for the money. But that was wrong too—and it was a terrifying experience for a few scared teenagers.
There is another way that we are all in danger of being deceived and lured by an imposter. Jesus spoke of it when He walked this earth. He promised He would come again, but first, false messiahs would try to get people to follow them instead. In Luke 21:8, He warned: “Watch out that you are not deceived. For many will come in my name, claiming, ‘I am he,’ and, ‘The time is near.’ Do not follow them.”
Wyndy was taken many years ago, but the memory and hurt still linger, and she was gone forever. John and his friends escaped with just a scary afternoon. In the end, both Wyndy’s family and the boys learned how easy it is to be deceived. But we don’t need to get in the car with evil or be tricked into following false masters. If we stay alert to God’s Word and ask Him for wisdom, He will guide us safely home to Him.
If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind (James 1:5-6).
Consider This:
Have you ever been deceived by someone? What happened? What did you learn? What principles from God’s Word might help protect you in the future?
The Dog Who Played with Fire
To Quench or Not to Quench?
Passion, though a bad regulator, is a powerful spring.
RALPH WALDO EMERSON
Lucy the border collie’s favorite holiday was the Fourth of July. She wasn’t particularly patriotic, but she was crazy about fire and fireworks. When a fuse was lit and her extended human family began the countdown, “Ten…nine…eight,” Lucy’s ears would perk up and she’d run in mad circles. “Three…two…one…BOOM!” Lucy’s heart leaped in her chest as she witnessed the rockets’ red glare and bombs bursting in air. But she wasn’t content to be a passive observer like her people. Lucy would charge in and snap at the fireworks—and at times, the fireworks would snap back. These miniburns never deterred Lucy. She’d shake her head, lick her chops, and go back to fire-snapping until all the sparkling flames were gone.
David can’t remember a time when Lucy didn’t have an affinity for fire. She was born with this hot-blooded trait. He thought it was either instinct—or foolishness. David’s family owned two other dogs, a golden retriever and a chocolate Lab. Other than being annoyed by the noise, neither of them showed any interest in fireworks. The Fourth of July was just another day.
Lucy’s other favorite celebrations were birthdays. David loved to watch Lucy’s growing excitement when dinner ended and the cake was being prepared in the kitchen. As the candles were lit, the pyro-loving pup would crouch down and wait, occasionally running in circles, eagerly anticipating the explosion. Since David’s family wasn’t partial to trick candles, this moment never came. Still, Lucy never wavered from her passion. Even when she was lying in her whelping box surrounded by a litter of newborn puppies, if a flame was lit nearby she’d hop out and do her fire-snapping dance. Her maternal instinct was trumped by her desire for fire.
Lucy’s interest in fire and fireworks wasn’t something she picked up from the Dog Whisperer or in obedience school. No, her lifelong enchantment with fire was implanted by her Creator. The same God who knit you and me together in our mothers’ wombs (Psalm 139:13) gave Lucy her unique fascination with flame.
Why?
It’d be nice if I could telepathically ask Lucy, “Why are you so passionate about fire?” Perhaps she’d given it some thought over the years and could articulate an insightful response—or maybe she’d simply shrug and telepathically answer, “I don’t know. I just am.”
Lucy and fire. God only knows. For us, there’s no way to know why. It just is. Like the beautiful flowers that grow, bloom, and die on remote mountaintops or in virgin rainforests without ever once being seen by an appreciating human eye.
Why did God plant them there?
Of what purpose are these breathtaking flowers that never get seen or smelled? Of what purpose is a fire-snapping dog?
David and I discussed the matter. We couldn’t come up with any explanations that held water. Lucy was no canine Smokey the Bear. She wasn’t a descendent of any firehouse Dalmatians. So why did God make her that way?
While they didn’t understand the why of it, Lucy’s family still gave her every opportunity to exercise it. They didn’t lock her up in the basement on the Fourth or exile her to the backyard during birthday parties. They weighed the pros and cons of her fire fascination and concluded that it brought joy to Lucy and wasn’t harmful to her or others. David’s family recognized Lucy’s instinctive passion and rather than quench it, found safe outlets for her to enjoy what she loved. David said, “We always ensured Lucy was around whenever there was a fire to be had.”
How many of us parents have watched a passion develop in our children in the same way? From early childhood, even in infancy, some kids are born with something they love more than anything else. Ever since my nine-year-old son discovered balls, he hasn’t been able to get enough of kicking, throwing, bouncing, bowling, or spinning them. I’m not saying he’s going to be a professional bowler or Ping-Pong player, but we try to give him ample opportunity to express his passion, whether it’s in soccer, basketball, football, or baseball. I have another friend whose son was fascinated by classic monster movies ever since he was a tiny kid. He never lost that fascination and is now one of the youngest professionals in the field of monster movie make-up and masks. Albert Einstein recalled that when he was eight, he received a compass from his father. Albert was enchanted by the magnetic needle magically pointing north and something clicked in him. Unraveling the mystery behind the invisible force that made the needle move would become a lifelong obsession. (His study of electromagnetism figured into the theory of relativity—one of the greatest scientific breakthroughs of the twentieth century.)
Some people—and dogs—are born with specific passions. These weren’t force-fed by parents or taught in school. Why did the Creator put them there? We’d have about the same luck telepathically asking God as we would that border collie—so thankfully God tells us why in the Bible.
First, we acknowledge that everyone is uniquely made by God. Psalm 139:13: “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.”
Second, just as David gave Lucy every opportunity to exercise her passion, so God wants the same for us. He designed us uniquely for a purpose. Read what Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 12:17-18 (MSG): “If the body
was all eye, how could it hear? If all ear, how could it smell? As it is, we see that God has carefully placed each part of the body right where he wanted it.”
Feet, hands, ears, eyes. On their own, apart from the body, they have unclear or little purpose, but when placed by the Creator exactly where they’re supposed to be and functioning in the way He designed, each part is indispensable.
Fire-snapping dogs, blooms that are never seen, little boys who love balls, movie monsters, and compasses. We mere dog owners and parents often don’t see why we should encourage these passions. We don’t understand why God made our dog or kids the way He did. It’s not how we would design the perfect dog or child. But rather than quench what God in His wisdom has created, we can simply be good stewards of His creations and encourage healthy development of those passions, just as David and his family did with their pyro-fascinated pup.
Bottom line: the Creator knows why He gave certain people and pups the unique passions He gave them and sometimes He keeps the reasons to Himself. And after we tire of all the speculation and second-guessing of God, it simply comes down to Isaiah 45:15 (NLT), “Truly, O God of Israel, our Savior, you work in mysterious ways.”
Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out! (Romans 11:33).