My baby boy just loves to play with my watch.  It lights up, has a screen that is touch sensitive, and lights up when it thinks I’m looking at it; he’s just fascinated by it.

Last week, he dug his thumb under it a few times.  Wowee! That hurt! Mamma needed to clip those nails.  So I did.  He got a nail clipping that evening at bed time.

When I took a shower a few days ago, I noticed a sizable gash in my arm.  Ya’ know, under my watch. And, it was infected.  Like, mondo, mega-infected.  I didn’t even realize The Little Hunk had ripped apart my skin.  It was a surface scratch, I’d thought.  But, it wasn’t.  So, I grabbed our Neosporin and a Band-Aid and treated it post-shower.  Sidenote: If you’re going to put a Band-Aid on your arm, be sure to shave off that arm hair first–especially if you ever want to remove said band-aid.

Anyway, for a few days, I repeated this treatment until the infection had subsided.  And now there’s a simple scab under my watch.

Gosh, what a mega-reminder of our real-world problems, eh?  Like, we barely realize that we have this problem: We’re broken, imperfect, failing, and messing up all the time.  We just don’t recognize it because the rest of life is over-top of it; we don’t see it.  We recognize pain, but the source–we just don’t recognize that the source is deep within us.

Unlike my treatment of the infected gash, Jesus’ treatment of our inherent ineptness is perfect.  He died once and doesn’t have to do it again.  He came back to life to defeat death (so we don’t have to die eternally) and we live forever.

I know it’s a sort of cliche verse, but it rings true.  John 3.16 says that God loves us so much that He sent Jesus (his only son–who died and raised from the grave, by the way) so that we can live eternally.  What. A. Cool. Treatment.

I’ll take that every day of the week and twice on Sunday.  But I only need it once.