I almost didn’t post today. I’ve been in a lot of pain, which always saps my energy for most things, including writing. (Definitely had worse, though–I’ve actually gotten some things accomplished today.)
But I got to thinking about my dad’s little twist on Descartes that I’ve used for the subject line of this post, along with an observation made most recently by my dear friend Alexis that God doesn’t often explain why He allows suffering but rather suffers with us. Often, we think of such things only in the context of the Cross, and it’s true that what Jesus suffered on Calvary is many orders of magnitude greater than what any individual has suffered at any given time. In the context of His earthly ministry, too, we think about His being hungry or thirsty or tired. But the Incarnation allowed Him to experience everything that’s common to humanity, so…
I bet at some point He had the flu. Common cold, at minimum.
It wouldn’t surprise me at all to find out that He got food poisoning at some point, or that He had ear infections and tonsilitis as a kid or mono as a teen, or that He had bouts of shin splints or plantar fasciitis from walking so many miles. I’m sure He smashed His thumb now and again while He was working as a carpenter. Given the prophecy in Psalm 22 that none of His bones would be broken, I doubt He ever knew that pain first-hand–but who knows what bugs the mosquitos on the Sea of Galilee were carrying?
I know, I know, it’s an odd thing to ponder, the Son of God laid up with some plain vanilla virus. But He chose to be human, with all the joys and all the hardships that entails. That probably means that He knows first-hand what it’s like to be sick.
And He chose to go through such things because He loves us that much.
How can I choose other than to love Him back? ♥