In the past 24 hours, I have been spat at more than anytime in my life. My oldest three children love the taste of amoxicillin, so much so, that they are usually jealous of whoever has the ear infection or strep. But this child #4 will have none of it. He starts spitting before I even get the first little squirt from the syringe down the inside of his cheek. And then, to top it off, he laughs after every time he spatters pink goo into my face.
My carpet, clothes, and comforter are spotted with the sticky substance. Remember in Steel Magnolias, when Sally Field’s character describes the church at her daughter’s wedding, “Looks like the place has been hosed down with Pepto Bismol…”? That’s my house right now.
The funny thing is that I know he likes the taste. When we are done with one dose, he immediately asks for more. Turkey. But when it’s time to administer the next round of meds, he reverts to spitting. I also know that it’s making him feel better. He is full of energy now (of course he is, now that I’m wiped out by the same cold).
He willfully rejects that which is sweet and healing. Hmmm…sounds familiar.
Confession time: Ever since my string of Lenten posts, I’ve had a really hard time engaging in the Word. Quiet time, devotions, prayer journaling…all of it has gone by the wayside. I’m not really even sure why. The routine of daily applying scripture and acknowledging blessing was so good and fruitful. Why is it that now I keep “spitting” at the idea? For some reason, I’ve been rejecting that which is sweet and healing. It’s a form of rejection because the prospect of sitting down with my Bible for even a quick Psalm has crossed my mind, and I’ve simply disregarded it.
I’ll do it later. Tomorrow. If I feel up for it.
Perhaps it’s time to implement routine. I don’t feel like it, but maybe I need to walk in obedience. If my doctor tells me I need to start exercising 3 times a week to lower my weight and cholesterol, whether I feel like it or not, I need to follow his recommendation. If God tells me to abide in His Word, then I probably should, even the pages of my Bible seem to weigh a ton. Like any regiment that’s good for us, it takes a few days of fatigue and soreness before we hit our stride. Daily studying God’s Word is no different. I’ve gotten off my rhythm, and it’s time to head back to the spiritual gym.
So here’s some stretching to ease back into it:
My soul clings to the dust;
give me life according to your word!
When I told of my ways, you answered me;
teach me your statutes!
Make me understand the way of your precepts,
and I will meditate on your wondrous works.
My soul melts away for sorrow;
strengthen me according to your word!
Put false ways far from me
and graciously teach me your law!
I have chosen the way of faithfulness;
I set your rules before me.
I cling to your testimonies, O Lord;
let me not be put to shame!
I will run in the way of your commandments
when you enlarge my heart! (Psalm 119:25-32)
When I think about Judah spitting his medicine back in my face, I mind less the mess, and more the boy. I believe that God, in His gracious and loving role as Father, is also more concerned with us and our health, than anything else. He doesn’t need our obedience. He is bigger than that. But He knows we need Him and His Word. In the same way that I delight in my son when He finally sucks down the antibiotics, God delights in my surrender. He rejoices and sings a song over me, even if I’ve been spitting along the way.