Scabby
Originally Posted at One Thing.
The injury is old, but it is not completely healed. Much of the pain of it has passed. I can hardly remember the reason it is there. Yet…when I look at it, I am tempted. Tempted to pick at it. Tempted to touch it, just a little. Maybe it’s ready to come off; maybe I can rush the healing process. I shouldn’t. I know I should let it go.
But I’m a picker, by nature. I get a little thrill from pulling at it, revisiting the cause of the hurt, feeling it anew. But it’s never ready. It yields to my scratching and blood flows all over again. It hurts again, bringing tears to my eyes with the sting of it. Now it must heal again, struggling to repair the damage, and it will take even longer.
Picking can introduce bacteria, and infection can set in. God’s ordained healing process is interrupted. The injury will fester, growing hot and angry because of the interference. Even a minor wound can become a scar with enough prodding.
Perhaps I pick because I doubt He is able to do it His way. Perhaps I think He needs my help. My insistence on thwarting His methods only brings me grief. It covers me with scars; people stare and wonder. Maybe I like that. Maybe I want people to ask what happened, so I can share my pain and the story of how I came to such grief.
Can I trust the Lord to heal these hurts in His own time, by His own methods? Do I want sympathy and pity more than healing? The scars are tough; they are thicker than my undamaged skin, but also less sensitive to a loving touch or a gentle caress. How calloused and ugly must I become before I stop picking?
Editor’s Pick by Michele at Sparks and Butterflies. I’ve been a long time reader of Jenni at One Thing. As her post, Scabby, illustrates - she is introspective, and is able to put into words what I feel. As a Christian I could totally relate to this post, which tells me others will too. She posts about her family and her everyday activities, and then sprinkles in these profound things along the way. Go ahead and subscribe. You won’t be sorry you did.


























