I had blood drawn today. My longsuffering doctor, a personal friend and a member of my church (who is probably thoroughly frustrated with me), ordered these tests a mere four months ago.
What prompted these tests was an incident four months ago that reoccurred four weeks ago. Nothing serious, I am sure, but it certainly got my attention.
I have asked myself why I am so wary of blood tests? I have deduced the following.
1. I may find out something I don't want to know.
2. It may require lifestyle changes.
3. I may have to take medication (something I hate) because of family medical history and natural propensities (I have been avoiding that).
The bottom line is logic that sounds like this: if I don't have the tests, I won't know the truth about my physical condition and, therefore, I can pretend everything is okay.
Yes, I know that is foolish.
So, I got my blood drawn today.
Facing the truth about ourselves is a difficult process. Avoiding it does not make the truth any less certain. Furthermore, it prolongs the inevitable moment of confrontation, and then, perhaps, at a time when it may be too late.
Is it time to take a closer look at the words of the hymnwriter who gives us hope for our condition, whatever it may prove to be?
"There is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Imannuel's veins.
And sinners plunged beneath that stream
Lose all their guilty stains."
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