Typical of a mischievous young boy, flanked with two equally enthusiastic brothers, I often found myself the object of perplexed stares.  To this day, I am still uncertain why I was absolutely captivated with the annihilating effect of the laser-like heat generated by my magnifying glass, surgically inflicted upon innocent and helpless ants.  Of course, further development of these latent skills led to the near loss of my boyhood home nestled within the heavily wooded coastal community of Fernandina Beach, Florida.  

I wish that my reckless ventures were satisfied with a timely grasp of the destructive nature of fire upon ankle deep pine straw and parched timber on a sweltry summer day.  To be sure, a fresh perspective for fire was gained, but I had only begun what for most of us is a lifelong realization of our innate propensity for folly.  At birth, parents begin the arduous task of correcting their child’s depraved behavior, seemingly in response to some form of encoded script.  Many of you have smiled in response to the occasional sighting of a messy- faced toddler in the mall wearing the soiled shirt that reads, “My name is NO NO!” For naïve parents, the remedial process seems somewhat reasonable and hopeful. As the child progresses into the rebellious teen years, and on into adulthood, we begin to realize the complexity of the issue.  

King David, characterized as “a man after God’s own heart” (Acts. 13:22), confessed, “Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me” (Psa. 51:5). Although biblical, I would not suggest including this particular text in the accompanying gift card bestowed upon an unsuspecting mother at the next baby shower invitation.  Let’s face it – with age we are still prone to mischief. For many of us the occasion to belch profanity comes much easier than our readiness to invoke God in passionate prayer heavenward.   Modernity’s psychobabble propagated through books and syndicated radio and television networks merely raise the awareness of this universal human pandemic. Symptomatically - we need more than a little help – we need a licensed physician with the antidote.

This reminds me of the alarming account of the 63-year-old man in Glendale, California who was recently discovered naked, reclining on a lounge chair, with a knife protruding from his abdomen. Attending police officers quickly established the injury sustained was self-inflicted while the man attempted to repair his own hernia using a butter knife.  Interestingly enough, this disturbing account depicts man’s helpless attempt to remedy his own condition.  The fatal disease is sin – the loving Physician is God the Father – the antidote is offered by grace, through faith, in the gift of Christ Jesus.

Have you appropriated a licensed physician for your soul today? I would urge you to appropriate Jesus Christ as the antidote. Isaiah reads,  “Come now, let us reason together,” says the Lord, “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool (1:18).