Pride Before the Fall

I am a firm believer that you could pretty much look at every sin committed and realize that it comes down at its base to be originated from pride.  When you think your decisions have to make more sense than what God tells you is best for yourself.  Isn't that pride?  In our sinful nature we don't want others telling us what to do.  Look at that stubborn toddler and that willful teenager?  They certainly feel like their decisions are the right ones and ours are not.  We, in the eyes of God, have to be those stubborn toddlers and willfull teenagers, right?

I know He looks down at us and everytime we turn from his direction He says, "Silly child...but I still love you...looks like I need to teach you this lesson again..."

This was a life lesson, this week.  Batted down once again by a God who loves me so much and wants me to listen.  Just listen.  Don't speak...just listen.  The word listen is a verb - which implies that it is an action.  You need to actively be involved in the process.  

I started getting sick on Sunday night.  Serious chills, 102 fever, aches over all my body, wiped out, and generally feeling like crap.   As it was 10 O'Clock at night, I took some tylenol, some ibuprofen, and went to bed, sweating and shaking for the rest of the night.  The following day I found pus and blood in my urine...hmmm...I thought....this is pretty serious.  Probably should start some meds.  Started some oral meds (quite appropriate for a general run of the mill urinary tract infection - but not really so much for a full blown kidney infection).  But I'll be honest, I was a little delirious, couldn't shake the super high fever and chills, so thought I was making some fairly rational decisions. I had Mike run to the store and get me some injectable meds and had Madison give me the injection.  Still running fevers, chills, etc.  My husband endlessly asking if I should go be seen.  This is when my BFF stepped in and I had the quite literal tongue lashing (at least the best you can do) over Facebook chat.  Then came the phone call and the brow beating.  "I don't want to lose you...", she said, "You could go septic and I could lose you..."  That did get my head cleared a bit and got me thinking.  But...I can surely take care of myself, right?  I'm pretty smart, drinking lots of fluids, taking my little meds...surely I can take care of this,..can't I (as I'm still running high fevers, chills, not eating, etc).  I know - any rational person at this point would have realized the error of their ways and called it quits.  But if any of you know me well enough, you know I am NOT a quitter!

Yes, that was the way my brain was working.  By admitting defeat, I was admitting I couldn't do it myself.  And yes, this is where my sin comes blaringly obvious to everyone else, but I still couldn't see it.  But my BFF was not giving up without a fight!  We started the compromise game.  If you aren't better in 30 minutes after your meds you are GOING IN, she says.  I was like, what?!  That's not even time for it to start working!  How about 10pm tonight - oh HECK no she says...how about in four hours she says.  Fine, decent compromise - but with the promise to have a full set of vital signs by the time I give her my update.  The only thing that kept her from flying to Honduras and kicking me in the butt was that my blood pressure and pulse were fairly stable the entire time.  The final compromise was if I still was sick the next day I had to PROMISE to go be seen, or there would be phone calls made.  That promise made me go.  Because even after another terrible night, I was trying to convince myself that I really didn't need to go, but because of the promise I made, and the value I place on holding true to my word I went.

Gratefully I have an amazing clinic with an incredible Dr. Roger, and amazing nurse Angy who upon taking the first look at me had an IV going and two liters of fluids up and running and a massive dose of IV antibiotics running before I could hardly even notice.  They weren't messing around.  

As I sat there on the exam bed, sweating through my most recent fever, in the jungles of Honduras in a clinic that God had built my mind began to reflect back on the last couple of days.  What an idiot I was.  What indeed could have happened...obviously my paultry means of trying to take care of things probably held off what could have ended very badly.  A friend just sent me a message saying a 46 year old nurse friend of theirs just died of the same thing I had - because she hadn't gotten medical attention in time.  I was reminded of time after time my husband asking if I should go to be seen, of my friends relentfless pursual of me...and I knew that once again God had brought me low only to lift me up by showing me His love through His people.  My family taking care of me, my friend's loving beratement, Dr. Roger's simple hug, and patting my head as I cried into his scrub top because I was so exhausted and so so sick, to Angy's compassionate caring for me while at the clinic.

Pride...my biggest sin...and once again, God sanctifying me through this process.  Maybe I have learned?  Or will once again...sometime in the future, God look down at me and say, "Silly child...but I still love you...looks like I need to teach you this lesson AGAIN..."