Got Into A Hornets' Nest

I began running as fast as my, almost seventy-one year old, legs could go.  I had stepped on a ground nesting of hornets.  They went after my head and continued to chase me regardless of how fast or far I seemed to run. By the time I made it fifty yards, I was completely confused and felt pain on my back, butt, and ear. Wincing, I took off my hat to fight off one of those pesky insects when I was hit again on my leg. Realizing it was on the inside of my pants I tore off my shoes, pants, then my shirt simultaneously trying find my hat as a defense mechanism! After what seemed an eternity, I stood, in pain, looking for another offender, alone, naked and afraid! O yes, and indignant! I hadn't done anything to warrant this. But this train of thought was immediately derailed by another sting on my foot. I can remember the last time I had been stung by a bee. (I was going to college in Santa Cruz and employed at night driving bee hives to Redwood City and had to be taken to the emergency room, I had been bitten so many times, during the route.) By the time the adrenaline stopped rushing, I was overwhelmed with throbbing all over my body. I had forgotten how painful a sting can be and I had no idea how to soothe the hurt. Getting to the house, I filled baggies with ice and dabbing an ointment on the painful areas.  I set off to the Internet for information. What we discovered was half-helpful, half-maddening.

On every website that offered information on treating hornet/bee stings, there inevitably seemed to be a few thoughts on what I should have done to prevent them. The lists were always very similar: Avoid wearing perfume and bright colors. Don't work or play around beehives or hornet nests. Don't provoke them or disturb them. The one I REALLY LIKED is: Remember that bee stings are painful and can be dangerous. The words almost seemed to make the stinging worse; the burden of fault was unbearable.

Over time, I’ve noticed religious people sometimes make use of similar teaching opportunities. I’m wondering: when a person is crumbling under the weight of his or her own sin, crying out over a life of brokenness, or agonizing over a certain sting of consequence, do I ever step in to offer some after-the-fact instruction? If so, I think my objective is probably well-meaning. And, thinking further, I hope there is nothing wrong with the words or wisdom I offered. But I am also realizing, there is undoubtedly a wrong a time to offer them. So, the caboose to this train of thought is: from now on before I give a lesson on all that makes anyone bleed, the wounded need to know there is a physician.

Jesus came onto the religious scene of Jerusalem with a method that bothered a great number of people. The experts of the law were proficient in the commandments of Scripture; they wanted people to know that sin bears great consequence and that the way to God is straight and narrow. The teaching of Jesus certainly echoed these truths, and yet he called out the religious leaders repeatedly as those whose "teaching human precepts as doctrines" Matthew 15:9. "And you experts in the law," he proclaimed, "woe also to you! For you load people down with burdens hard to bear, and you yourselves do not lift a finger to ease them" Luke 11:46. 

  

Of course, the advice given to me about avoiding hornet stings was obviously sound. And on some level, it seems reasonable to include these principles while discussing a treatment plan; prevention is clearly the best treatment. But each time I came across this "guidance," as my entire body throbbed in pain, I naturally wanted to scream. Of course I didn't mean to disturb the hornets' nest; I'm still not even sure where the nest was so I always am carefully when approaching, to this day. To be fair, I didn't see any of it coming. I wasn't wearing bright colors and I wasn't wearing perfume. I simply stepped in the wrong place at the wrong time and I was paying for those steps. Yet regardless: all of this was completely irrelevant at the moment I was looking for help.  

I’ve had it happen often enough that I know; there are times when sin simply comes in and completely flattens me. In hindsight, most of the time, I’m able to see the wrong turns and reckless steps that might have taken me there, or actions that might have prevented the heartache altogether. But in the midst of my brokenness, Jesus isn't the one pointing this out. When I’m wounded, in pain, confused, He simply says, "Come." 

I’m more than glad that when I come to Christ asking for help, I’m offered a Person, not a list that adds insult to injury. I believe, with my entire being, that to every wounded person, he simply offers his own wounds.

Father, God, this morning I thank You that while Jesus indeed gave very prescriptive and resolute instructions that would load down the strongest, You were lifting Him upon an old rugged cross to help me bear the load. I’m finding that, in my personal experience, when I step into His presence the stinging always at first seems worse, but the wound, He assures me, will heal.  Amen