Any parent will tell you that children, especially small children, get sick a lot. It comes from a general lack of awareness about where these small children put their mouths. Or, it comes from their lack of respect for personal space. This is certainly the case for Sam, my youngest son. He has yet to learn that it is impolite, not to mention disgusting, to place his mouth over another person’s nose. All those exchanges of bodily fluids (which at this age are acceptable, I guess) lead to the contraction of viruses and infections of all sorts.
Yesterday, early in the day, we realized that Sam had contracted one of these frustratingly disruptive illnesses. He spent most of the day walking around the house moaning and crying like a professional mourner at a funeral procession. Despite the generous doses of Tylenol we provided him, he was still miserable. In fact, the only thing that made him the least bit happy was the dog we are dog sitting. The dog, on the other hand, wasn’t brought the same joy by the constant attention she received from Sam. Lori and I thought that bedtime would bring some relief for Sam and for us. Contrary to our hope, this was not the case. By bedtime his fever was a solid 102 degrees. Instead of letting him cry in his crib I decided to hold him and watch TV.
Let’s be honest, no one likes getting sick. I don’t. In most cases if I know a person is sick, I will do my very best to avoid contact with them. But when it comes to my children, things are different. Even at the risk of bowel wrenching diarrhea or vomiting, nothing in this world will stop me from holding and comforting my sick sons. Last night, as I sat on the couch and held a very warm Sam, I had no fear. I had no fear that the snot or the tears or his breath would transmit to me his current sickness. I had only love; love that moved me to wrap my arms around him tight, whispering and singing to him in an attempt to calm his crying. This is the common experience of parents. At least, that is, any parent who is worth their salt.
I have to believe that this, in some ways, is how God views us. We are sick, infectiously sick with sin. We are sick with selfishness, pride, greed, hatred, unhindered envy, and jealously. Not to mention all of the other “big” sins with which we love to label people: homosexuality, lust, and murder. We are sick with all of the things that God is not. And yet, God is not scared to hold us. In an act that can, at very least, be described as an act of parental love, God condescended to become God and man – Jesus Christ. God was not concerned that taking on the form of humanity would infect God with all of our sin.
Why? Because holiness is more contagious than sin.
While holiness does function to demarcate between good and bad, between clean and unclean, its primary movement is rooted in the loving acts of God toward a creation which God longs to heal. Israel was called to be holy so that she could participate with God in the drawing of all nations to God. The early church was called to be holy so that it could participate with God in the sharing of the love of Jesus Christ – the loving, compassionate, fearless, vomiting-child-holding parental love of God. We have the same call.
This is where we go wrong: we think holiness is about keeping ourselves clean. It’s not. It’s about embracing people who we perceive to be a threat to our cleanliness. It’s about embracing them with the same love and compassion, with the same lack of fear with which a parent embraces a sick child. I confess that I do not often love like this. It’s just easier not to worry about the sickness in others and only worry about my own cure. I think, at that point, I may not be living a life of holiness. Lord, forgive me.
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