Theres a part of the Asterix comics where the town chief is bedridden in a large amount of pain when people poke him in the belly. A gag revolves around a myriad of the townsfolk coming to visit and poking him, on purpose or sometimes accidentally, including the tiny Dogmatix. Its kinda funny because of the ridiculous repeating nature of peoples ignorance, and the chiefs reactions are so large that you can almost feel his pain through the pages of the book.
And during the stories frames it seems like, he would totally get better if everyone just stopped poking him. And this is a lie that the world constantly subscribes to. If everyone leaves us alone, our hurts will just melt away. If we just ignore them, if we just bottle them up inside.
You know what happens when your foot gets infected? I do.
Three months ago I was in East Timor, 4 hours up into the hill districts, playing soccer bare foot with some of the coolest kids I’ve ever met. Twenty minutes in, both my friend Alex and I got cuts on our feet that would later get super infected. But, knowing a basic wisdom of medicine – infection is bad, alcohol cleans, band aids are good – we would sit every day, sterilize a needle, poke holes in our infected, pus filled blisters, pour alcohol over it, put cream on it and bandage it. Day in day out. But the alcohol we were cleaning it with, was actually just for sanitizing hands. It was not meant for cleaning open wounds. The water we were washing with was dirty (told to us laters that every wound in east timor gets infected) and our sterilization technique would probably make my ex-nurse mother hurl a little bit.
Some days, I wouldn’t clean it properly and my body would begin sealing the wound with pus inside. If i had left that. If i had ignored it and just expected my body to heal it, the invasive force of the infection would have ended up eating my toe off. (which almost happened when i returned to Australia)
I believe this is similar to what happens to our hearts if we let bitterness, offense, hurt, brokenness, jealousy “take care of itself” It grows, without our knowing, sometimes completely silently. But then when someone comes along and touches our soft sore spots, our reactions explode. When we constantly bottle things up, our jugs will get full and then overflow all that hurt on whatever and whoever is around. We explode in anger because we haven’t received healing, or have not dealt with our hearts infection.
When i finally went to a doctor, he took one look at my infected toe and almost instantly wrote a script for the most hardcore antibiotics my body has ever seen. He then put some mesh over the wound to help regrow the skin properly and gave me some cream.
When our hearts are hurt, when infect resides inside – we NEED the holy spirits antibiotic power and comforts, we NEED the fathers soft hands to hold our hearts as it regrows, we NEED the sons redemptive rescue plan to bring us back to a soft and complete heart. Because if we don’t receive these things, our hearts will become calloused, numb, painful and ultimately will cease working like it should.
God is after sweet hearts.
God is all about our comfort.
God is…. the best.