Wart Removal and the Christian Faith

Last semester I had a wonderful experience. I got my first (here's hoping to the last) wart ever. It's right below the first knuckle of my thumb, and it's really not in the way so I let the wart, we'll call him Jim, chill out there for a little while. But now it's time for Jim to leave.

A week or so ago I bought some wart removal stuff at Kroger, and I've been working on evicting Jim from my hand. Results so far are nice, but painful. Jim has shrunk, but now instead of his normal white complexion he is blackened and necrotic. It's pretty gross looking. The skin around Jim is raw from the removal applicant, and now when I apply more of the Jim-killing fluid my nerves give me a big "Dude, what the hell, stop!" sensation. My thumb-strength virtually disappears and I can't really grip things for a good ten minutes. I can see Jim shrinking, but it's not fast enough. I know I'll have to keep doing this stuff for a while until Jim is completely gone. Sometimes when I look at Jim, the grossness of it all makes me think that the problem isn't getting better, but worse.

Growing in grace is like wart removal. The Christian faith is centered on the Resurrection, which turned the world upside down. We have become so content with the warped, grossly distorted world that any challenge to our perceptions of the "natural" living conditions in which we find ourselves seems painful. The floor is on the ceiling and the ceiling is the floor. When we begin to apply the Gospel to our hearts and see that it does change our world, our fallen minds, hearts, and bodies don't like it one bit. Anyone who tells you otherwise has not yet been dragged through the muddy, rocky path of Sanctification.

Our hearts are exposed for what they really are. The scales are removed from our eyes and we see the blackened, necrotic state of our minds. The lasting effects of the fall become all too real. We try to do the right thing, the godly thing, but we fail again and again. The Valley of Vision records a prayer in which the writer laments that even in his holiest of prayers he would deserve nothing more than damnation.

The Gospel is the salve that not only reveals our disgusting nature, but begins to heal it. It reveals that we have every cause for hopelessness, and then provides that hope itself. As the Law of God shines on our imperfections, its searing light burns and tears away at our souls, and the Gospel renews the hope that one day, everything will be made right. Everything will be new. The flawed will be restored into its original glory. While we may believe that we aren't growing in grace, we are seeing the need for Christ even more.

When we experience the pain of everyday life, when we realize that we are so terribly flawed and unlovable, we need to turn to the empty tomb and remember what Christ has accomplished for us and hope yet again, and hope evermore.