I was born with an allergy to pain. To get me to a doctor or dentist required a great measure of fortitude from my parents. Fortunately, my father shared my inclinations, which helped to delay some appointments, but some pains just cannot be ignored.
As a kid, I could get a cavity while simply gazing at a freshly glazed honey bun, and I gazed quite often. In the interest of truth, I did more than longingly gaze at these delightful creators of the diabetic coma. I consumed more of them than I care to remember.
There is a gem of wisdom that states "you can pay me now, or pay me later." The inference being that when a situation arises that requires attention, something must be done, like it or not. As much as I loved my sweets, I never thought about the deposits they were making on my teeth.
It didn't take long before those deposits began screaming for a withdrawal or a quick fix. So, when my parents called in the National Guard to transport me to the dentist, it was time for the "pay me later" part of the equation. I had no idea how much fun I was in for.
I was unaware that my doctor felt the need to clean my teeth before fixing my cavity. Cleaning seemed innocent enough until I learned the dark truth about the procedure. Before I knew what hit me, a rubbery-looking mouthpiece, soaked in some hideous concoction, was shoved into my unsuspecting mouth. After being forced to bite down on the mouthpiece, I suddenly tasted what seemed like a mixture of cow intestines with a side of lemon juice and battery acid.
Needless to say, at this point I would have sold my entire family to the first person who could bring me a honeybun and get me out of that chair. My deliverer never came, and the next thing I heard was, "Don't swallow!" I stared intently at my dental assistant, looking for signs of life, because only an insane and deranged lunatic would swallow this stuff. I was so focused on not throwing up that I momentarily lost control of my bladder.
Just when I thought it could never get worse, the good doctor returns with a Craftsman five horsepower drill and a syringe with a needle as long as my arm. Secretly, I wished that I could have saved my bladder contents and directed them towards his face. I had been told that I was gifted in that department as a baby, but there was nothing left in the tank.
The drilling made me feel as if I was sitting at the epicenter of an earthquake. My jaw was vibrating faster than Elvis Presley's hips ever did and fragments of my tooth could be seen flying out of my mouth in search of safer ground. When he finished drilling six months later, the rest of the procedure concluded pretty well. As he finished, he grinned and said, "Bathroom's third door on your left!"
You would think that such an experience would have taught me to tackle things quickly before they get out of hand. But, I discovered that was not the case. A few years later, I got a splinter stuck under my thumb nail and proceeded to keep my thumb out of my father's sight for weeks.
He would have insisted on my being perfectly still while he excavated that stick out with a pair of tweezers. He would then drown the area in merthiolate, a bright red substance that burned as if it cauterized the wound it touched. There's a reason we lovingly refer to it as "liquid hell."
Knowing this, I knew it would be best to keep the splinter safely hidden in my thumb. After a week or so, infection set in and a not-so-gentle throbbing began to harmonize with my heartbeat. Just as I was about to surrender my secret so that I could save my thumb, the infection caused my thumb nail to lift enough that the splinter fell out all by itself.
Today, I am well aware that cavities and splinters are less painful when dealt with early. The same is true in our spiritual life. When things are going wrong, they won't fix themselves. When a downward spiral begins, it will keep heading in that direction until God is allowed to intervene.
The thing about God is that He is incredibly patient. While He awaits our surrender, He will send gentle reminders through almost anything. For instance, I have a daily habit of dropping ice from the freezer while filling my thermos. As I recently dropped a handful of ice, I said, "The harder I try not to drop ice, the more I drop!"
That was a God-inspired thought that reminded me that my efforts at fixing my life will always fall short and will delay God's provision. So, before you try to keep a problem under your thumb or allow a cavity to grow in your soul, let God work on your behalf. His cure will be sure and no needles or merthiolate are needed.