I remember getting cuts as a little kid. I’d be playing outside, just running around, and would find myself sprinting inside with a scratch on my finger, as if the world were about to end, asking Mom to fix it. After all, Mom can fix all hurts and scrapes.
First thing, she would take me to the sink to run clean water over my cut. I was thinking this whole “coming to Mom to get this fixed” idea was a good one until we got to this part. But hey, I could handle that, since I was such a tough little girl.
Next, we’d head to the bathroom, and she’d pour that anti-germ stuff on my cut. Now hold on a second; maybe Mom didn’t know what she was doing after all. That stuff hurt. Was she sure that was actually going to make it better? ‘Cause, I’m telling you, in that moment I bet it seemed like I’d rather suffer the unknown infections. But she’d put the comforting Band-Aid on my cut, and sure enough, the scratch would heal quickly without infections.
Life is very much like scratches and Band-Aids. Our lives are broken, hurt, wounded, and we can’t fix it. We have two choices: we can either leave the wound alone, allowing it to spread infection to the rest of us, or we can take it to God, who we know can fix it.
The healing process isn’t all kisses and butterflies, though; it hurts. In order to be able to heal, the wound has to be cleaned, and that isn’t always a pleasant process. However, we should never doubt God in the pain, thinking, “Is He sure this is really the best way to do this?”
Mom knew what she was doing. I bet God does too.