So I’ve got this new thing. It isn’t jacket, though the recent weather makes me wish it was. It isn’t a car either. A car would be nice with the recent appearance of our old Mazda’s check engine light. I checked the engine, all right, and it is right there where it has always been, but this seems insufficient for said light—it is just as bright and orange as it was before I checked the engine. Talk about a bad communicator.
No, this new thing I have is an eye twitch. Pretty sweet. I’ll just be sitting, reading or writing or talking with someone—I could be doing all manner of things, really—and BAM, my right eye just starts fluttering uncontrollably, hummingbird-style. It isn’t painful, and I’m not sure if it is noticeable. (Although I will say that it feels noticeable. It feels like Jekyll’s face contorting into Hyde’s.) But it is there all the same, and it is certainly annoying.
Like my check engine light, it tells me that something is wrong, but doesn’t pinpoint what exactly that something is. The internet (my doctor of choice) informs me that it might be stress related. The only problem with this is that I’ve never really been stressed about much. So now I have to worry about this twitch AND this whole stress thing—what it means and how one deals with it . . . and, I think, that is actually the thing that is stressing me out.
Sometimes my life is like this too. I have these little, annoying peccadilloes that flare up. They don’t really cause any huge issues and may not even be noticeable to anyone else, so I just sort of live with them. If I do this with my car, well, it may one day stop working or blow up or something. If this twitch isn’t dealt with, it could lead to something else (or it may even be the result of something else: stress or strained vision or some kind of neurological problem, who knows?). But the fact of the matter is, ignoring little personal annoyances seldom makes them disappear. And similarly, ignoring my little defects, my minor sins, only allows for them to grow and, little by little, destroy me and those around me.
Whether it be the check engine light, my butterfly eye, or the small sins, getting to the underlying issue is key. It will probably be costly, but my willingness to deal with it indicates its value. Do I value my car enough to visit the mechanic? How about my health—is it worth a trip to the doctor? These questions have pretty clear-cut answers. Here is another one: How about my soul? How about my God? Are these worthwhile enough for me to check my own wayward heart and allow for change, for repentance? I know what the right answer is, but, honestly, I catch more than just my eye twitching with anxiety at the thought of really allowing true transformation to occur. But the question remains: Is it worth it?
Well, is it?