Painful Remedies?

I warned him. His mother constantly reminded him. He ignored. Bicycle rides regardless of how brief were to be accompanied by helmet, knee pads, and elbow pads. (How did we ever make it when I was growing up with no pads at all?) We heard the crash of metal on concrete and waited with baited breath for the cry. It came almost immediately. We ran. We saw. We knew. Our oldest son had hit his bare, padless, unprotected elbow on the driveway. The driveway won. Bone in sight, blood was gushing and tears were streaming. A trip to the hospital for stitches. The doctor arrived and began to work. My son was in pain. Now I had to watch as the doctor "remedied" the injury. He took a syringe filled with numbing juice and jabbed it into the open wound 15 times. My son tried to be tough. I couldn't be. It hurt too much. I learned a powerful lesson on that day. I learned that the remedy can sometimes be more or as painful as the injury. I learned that doesn't mean the remedy isn't worth it. Without the remedy, infection, prolonged sickness, and more significant pain will occur.

The same is true in our lives. How many times does God offer us a remedy and we discover that the remedy is as painful or in some instances even more painful than the injury? We pray for the job, but the answer may mean a lower position, or a change in comfort zone, or starting over on the corporate ladder...and we baulk. We pray for revival, but the answer may mean turning off the TV, going to church more than once a week, or cutting off some relationships...and we hesitate. We ask for assistance in that special relationship, but the answer may mean counseling or saying "I’m sorry"...and we pull up short. The remedy is often painful. It may cost you time. It may cost you pride. It may cost you sacrifice. But isn't it worth it? Without the remedy...infection, prolonged sickness, and more significant pain! What was a small wound without the painful remedy becomes a gaping wound of bitterness. What was a brief timeout due to illness becomes debilitating without treatment. What could have hurt significantly now to be followed by relief is drawn out to years of tears, anger, embarrassment, and regret if we fail to be obedient to the prescription.

Pad up. Strap on your crash helmet. Buckle on those knee pads. For heaven's sake, put armor on your elbows. The wreck will come, the pain is inevitable, grit your teeth and prepare to cooperate with the remedy. You will be better for it in the long run. As tempted as I will be, I won't tell you "I told you so!"