When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. 1 Corinthians 13:1, NKJV
Crying over small things.
I used to run wailing to my mom when I scraped a knee or bumped my head, wanting her to make it better. I don't remember anyone ever telling me to stop crying over the little things, but eventually a little cut didn't seem worth the tears anymore. Which didn't stop me from going to Mom if my hurt went way deeper, like when my boyfriend invited another girl to the prom. Yep, I still cried. I was a teenager, and it seemed like emotions were really close to the surface then.
Does that mean that emotions are childish and calling Mom is, too? Of course not. But as Christians we know we can take our tears to God--and that He's even better than Mom at comfort and peace. Even so--I don't cry to Him over small cuts. I don't think it's pride--just distinguishing between what's threatening and what's unimportant. What needs prayer and what is already taken care of in God's design of the body to heal itself. Either way, I'm relying on God to take care of me.
So--what's my point? Spilled milk isn't important. Get a mop and clean it up. Most bruises will fade. Praise God for His provision for healing. Thank Him for being there to help you through those deep, hard hurts, and trust Him. He won't let you down.
And step outside your own hurt to see and help others who really need God's comfort and healing.
Lord, help us become the adults You intend us to become. We can't do it alone. Help us put away the childish and put on the adult. Show us how, precious Jesus. For Your Glory--Amen.
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