Slivers

Pecan pie, chocolate cake, my husband's favorite pastel de tres leches...we often ask for a second helping of the most delicious desserts...but only a sliver. It's just the right amount to get one more morsel of sweetness. But not all slivers are created equal. I recall the time that I had a "sliver" of wood about 4 inches long stuck in my leg. I begged my mother to take me to my Aunt Pat, the nurse, to pull it out, rather than visiting the ER. "She wouldn't touch that with a ten-foot-pole", were the fateful words of my mother that day. So, needless to say, some slivers are far better avoided...like the one I got last weekend. While Luis and I were emptying the contents of our storage unit in Hampton, South Carolina, we were lifting our kitchen table. A beautiful oak set we had purchased in Arizona. It was the first piece of furniture that wasn't a hand-me-down, or something bought second hand. I treasured it, and it is still one of my most favorite household items, even though the underside of the table is unfinished, and has some rough edges. As I went to lift the table, a sliver of wood slid under the skin of my index finger on my left hand. Immediately I felt the sting of pain, and dropped my side of the table. I could see the end sticking out, so I pulled at it with my nails until I was able to remove what I thought was the entire sliver. It was still sore, but there was much work to do, so I continued with the other nine unharmed digits. Being left handed, it is rather difficult to do every day things without the use of your index finger on that hand. Every time I accidently bumped it, or tried to use it, was painful. I realized that I still had a portion of the sliver stuck in my finger, but I didn't have the right tools to get it out. The next morning, my finger was sore. Swollen at the site of the injury, with signs of infection setting in. I couldn't let it slow me down, after all, it was moving day, and I had to drive our Pilot and trailer four hours north to our recently purchase home in Anderson, South Carolina. But it did slow me down. Every bend of the finger hurt.
We began our trek, I with Lily asleep in the back seat, and Luis with the boys in the U-haul behind us. Knowing that I had a long trip ahead, I texted my sisters, and placed a couple phone calls to break up the monotony of the miles ticking away on the highway. Towards the middle of my trip, the texting stopped, there was no one to call, and all was quiet. It was then that I heard that Familiar Voice, talking to me. I looked down at my finger. I heard the Lord say,
"That's how bitterness is. It starts with an unexpected, undesired offense. You were blindsided and caught off guard by something that you hold dear-something you never imagined would treat you in such a negative way. The initial sting is hard to forget. A portion is allowed to penetrate to the very depth of your heart and bury itself. Yes, you deal with it at the surface level. You reason with it in your own way, in your own strength. But a portion of it is unseen, thus allowed to remain. You lack the means to remove it completely. The offense, however small at the beginning, is allowed to fester, until it swells, and the infection of bitterness sets in."
"But Lord", I thought, "as soon as I get this sliver out of my finger, everything will be fine".
He spoke again.
"Even after the offense is removed, and the infection of bitterness is tended to, the pain will linger for a time. It will take time for complete healing to come to pass. Eventually, after a season, you will not feel the tenderness of injury. And with more time, one day, even the sting of the inital offense will be all but a faint memory."
I began to think about these words, and the pain in my finger. How much better it would have been if I had protected my hands with gloves, paying more attention to the object I was grabbing. Then, the sliver would have never been allowed to enter my finger in the first place. Hind sight. And so it is with offense. How unguarded we are at times. "Be self controlled and alert" the Word of God warns. "Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour". (1 Peter 5:8 NIV) Just like an injured finger, bitterness slows us down, and makes us less effective. We think twice before encountering similar situations, to avoid a repeat performance. We often put up walls to keep the unwanted hurt out, unaware that the very barricade often deflects the good along with the bad.
Thankfully that doesn't have to be the end of the story, for our Lord is a wonderful counselor and healer. He can make the lame to walk, the blind to see, and yes, even heal the wounds of offense and bitterness, if we allow Him to. His love can penetrate that hardest of hearts, or the gravest of hurts. He can turn a heart of stone into a heart of flesh. The Great Physician has hands of precision, ready and willing to cut out all signs of infection, and place us on the road to recovery.
Even today, as I am sitting in our new home, typing at that beautiful oak kitchen table, I still have a sore finger that hurts when I bend it. The pain is much better, as I have finally been able to remove the miniscule piece of wood that was stuck deep within. All signs of infection have gone. The pain is lessening, and I know one day, I am going to wake up and forget I was ever hurt in the first place. But the glimpse of God that I experienced will stay with me for a lifetime.