Don't Wait Too Long by Todd Chobotar

A few years back I had a tooth filling fall out.  It didn’t hurt really—it just popped out.  The exposed tooth was a bit sensitive, but not too bad. I decided I didn’t have the time to get it fixed right then. Besides, I dislike going to dentists. I had a negative experience with a dentist during childhood and they’ve scared me ever since.

Next week, I thought.  I’ll get it taken care of then.  But next week came and went–as did many more.  Every few weeks my tooth would become a bit more sensitive to hot/cold stuff.  But I continued to procrastinate citing a lack of time (plus that nagging fear of dentists didn’t help).

Eventually, the tooth started hurting more frequently, though not unbearably.  After six months, I started to get a bit fearful.  What if I had waited too long already?  What if I went to the dentist and he told me the tooth needed a root canal?  Ouch!  Maybe the tooth would have to be painfully extracted?  Double ouch!  Or what if the dentist scolded me for not coming to him sooner?  Guilt trip!

But as much as I feared going, my logical mind told me I had to do something.  So, with a deep sense of resolve and a firm display of determination, I made the difficult decision.  Ignore logic and wait longer.

Seven months.  Eight months.  Nine months

Then it happened. One morning I woke up abruptly with my tooth aching and head pounding.  This was it.  I couldn’t take it anymore.  The pain had finally become so severe there was simply no avoiding it any longer. I called up my dentist for an emergency appointment.

Dr. Figueroa, a gentle lady and excellent dentist, was sympathetic.  She squeezed me into her schedule, fixed me up and was even kind enough to skip the guilt trip (she probably thought I’d suffered enough already).  Yes, the repair was painful.  Yes, it was my fault for delaying.  And yes, I could have saved myself a lot of sore days, uncomfortable nights and needless worrying if I had only gone to her sooner.  Lesson learned.

Let me ask you, is there any pain in your life you’ve been avoiding?  Perhaps a secret sorrow no one else knows about?  A heartbreaking situation.  An aching disappointment.  A distressing condition. Why not take it to God? Let Him deal with it.  He’s a pain specialist with vast experience and a gentle touch.

The Psalmist gives a glimpse of God’s heart for suffering when he says:

“Lord, my God, I cried out to you for help, and you healed me.” Psalm 30:2 CEB

“God heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds.” Psalm 147:3 CEB

Maybe like me you feel there’s no time in your frenzied schedule to stop for healing. Or perhaps you’re afraid to let God try. Would you be open to some advice from this admitted lily liver and seasoned pain procrastinator? Don’t wait until the pain becomes unbearable.  Take your troubles to the Great Healer.  Let his skillful hands do the delicate treatment.  You’ll feel so much better afterwards.

“God cares for you, so turn all your worries over to him.”  1 Peter 5:7 CEV

Question: When it comes to pain, do you ever find yourself (or someone you love) putting it off to deal with at a later time? Why do we do that?  (Share your thoughts in the comments)

Guest Blogger and Member of FHC, Todd Chobotar

BLOG | http://www.ToddChobotar.com

TWITTER | http://www.twitter.com/ToddChobotar

FACEBOOK | http://www.facebook.com/ToddChobotar 

The First Line of Defense by Andy McDonald

What is your first line of defense? Following 9/11, there were arguments about what our nation’s “first line of defense” should be.

The military, intelligence agencies, securing the airports, better border patrol, or tighter immigration standards—which ought to be our first line of defense? The arguments still continue.

What about us? What about when we’re faced with minor or major challenges or even crisis? What is our first line of defense?

I was sitting in the Juror selection holding area for Orange County, waiting to do Jury Duty when my left ear, all of a sudden just started to ache. As soon as I was dismissed, my first line of defense was to put some old antibiotic drops in my ear, take a couple of aspirins, and if worse, I’d call my doctor in the morning. After much misery, I finally called a doctor friend who got me on antibiotics and prescribed a new dose of ear drops.

My first line of defense was self-treatment—then drugs! Looking back I wondered, “Where was God in my line of defense?” I didn’t call the church to come and pray, that wasn’t my first line of defense. WHY NOT?

Jesus was tired and ready for a break from the people, so he got in the boat with his disciples and headed to the other side of the lake. It was only a matter of minutes aboard the gently rocking boat, with the sound of water splashing against the boat, and Jesus was asleep.

Shortly after sunset the weather changed. Down from the surrounding hills wind rushed upon the lake. Dark storm clouds filled the sky. These seasoned boatmen prepared for the storm like they had many times before. They dropped their sail, turned the boat to face the waves, battened things down that might fly off the boat, got the bailing equipment ready in case some water might splash aboard, and they began to row for shore. Collectively these actions were their first line of defense.

But the storm was beyond their ability. All their resources weren’t enough to do battle with this storm. They were at the sinking point when they called out, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!” Jesus was - and still is - familiar with being the last resort instead of the first line of defense.

Jesus was able to sleep in the storm because of his faith in God’s love and care—his Father was his first line of defense. Jesus said, “By myself I can do nothing.”

Every day challenges force us to choose some first line of defense. What is your first line of defense? And what relation to that choice is determined by who you’ve chosen as master. We can’t choose ourselves and God both as our first line of defense. Both can’t be our first line of defense. Only one can be first. Which will we choose?

Andy McDonald