“They will fight against you but will not overcome you, for I am with you and
will rescue you,” declares the Lord. Jeremiah 1:19
Our
dog just scratched his ear.
It
was, I’m glad to say, just an everyday itch. But it reminded me of the time a
few years back when we had (shudder) fleas in our laundry room.
They
were hardly noticeable at first. I’d feel an itch about the ankle as I loaded
the washer, but nothing worth even a downward glance. Then suddenly, within a
matter of days, the occasional itch became a full-scale invasion. One morning I
went down to put in a load of laundry wearing, with my usual impeccable fashion
sense, a pair of white tube socks with my shorts & tee-shirt. I felt a
bite, looked at my feet, and was shocked to see at least twenty black dots on
each sock.
In
a way it was comical. Like so many Lilliputians attempting to bring Gulliver to
his knees, these minuscule, almost insignificant creatures flung themselves at
my ankles, oblivious to the utter inequality of the contest. The humor was not
long-lasting, however. Watching tiny but determined little bodies clinging to
my socks, feeling their sharp nips as they hopped onto my legs with mad
enthusiasm, I began to get the heebie-jeebies. I shook one leg, then the other,
trying uselessly to dislodge the tenacious creatures. I tried to brush them
off, then, failing that, began to smack at my legs, gradually working myself
into a weird little dance around the room, spinning and hopping and flailing before
an audience of amused detergent bottles.
The
next time I went into the room I was armed with a can of flea-killing spray
prescribed by the folks at the vet’s office. I sprayed with a vengeance,
leaving no square inch untreated. I knew my legs were under attack, but I held
my ground and did what needed to be done. It felt good – powerful – to stride
in, weapon in hand, and conquer my enemies.
--------
Sins
are flea-like.
I
don’t notice them at first. They’re small, insignificant, harmless. But then
they attack, ganging up to bring me down, to drive me to despair, to fill me
with inward terror. I dance about, trying to rid myself of my sins – trying to
shake off pride, to swat envy – only to discover another and another black spot
on what should be white.
I
flee in terror from my multitude of sinfulnesses to the office of the Great
Physician, who gives me the prescription to ward off my attackers. Then I
stride back into battle, full of confidence, and fight back against the enemy
with the only weapon that works – the death and resurrection of Jesus. Cross in
hand, I’m able to beat down this sin and that, conquering my foe.
--------
Sadly,
all was not won on the flea front. When
we finally sold our old house I breathed a sigh of relief at escaping those
darn insects. Even though it looked like I had killed them all, the vet informed
me that the tenacious creatures could return at any time. Eventually we would
have to spray again, and again. And again. Apparently fleas can remain in a
dormant state indefinitely, unassailable, only to spring to life ready to
pounce at our white socks when we least expect them.
So
it is with our sins. Though we’re empowered to chase one away, another will
come – many others, attacking with renewed strength. As long as we are alive we
will sin, and sin again, no matter how diligently we apply ourselves to the
pursuit of perfection.
Will
our houses ever be flea free? Will we ever be able to welcome Jesus into our
hearts, saying, “Here, see what a beautiful place I’ve prepared for you?” Not a
chance. Vacuum and spray though we may, there will still be ugliness hidden in
the recesses of the carpets.
The
amazing thing is . . . God comes anyway. He knows our every imperfection, our
vain attempts to clean ourselves, our pathetic offering of a sin-infested soul
– and he comes into our hearts, forgives our impurity, and, because of the
cleansing blood of Christ Jesus on the cross, loves us anyway.
Fleas
and all.
First
published in The Alpena News on June
28, 2014
