Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” - Luke 9:60
Years ago, we had a barn cat named Booger. Yes, I know, it's not a very flattering name, but her name was still Booger. She was a small, grey-striped cat that was very useful for killing vermin (I won't mention how she also killed things that were not vermin as well, though, like my poultry-- oops, I meantioned it).
One day, Booger had herself a litter of kittens. There were four of them and they all looked alike--- the mirror image of Booger. The kittens grew, opened their eyes, and learned to walk. As they learned to walk, their curiosity led them to some very dangerous places. One of them wanted to perch on the edge of a water bucket, but teetered in and drowned. Another one tried to play with the dogs and got chewed to death. Another one jumped off of my husband's workbench in the garage and decaptiated itself on a saw blade. The last one must have gained some introspective wisdom and high-tailed it out of this apparent death trap, because I never saw it again.
Each and every one of these kittens that died was buried next to the garage. The decapitated one was buried with his body and head placed neatly next to each other. However, one beautiful summer day, I found Booger happily nursing what looked like a kitten in the corner of the barn. She was purring and making that happy/squinty face that cats make when they're really content. I thought that maybe the missing one had returned, so I approached Booger to pet the kitten. To my absolute horror, I realized that she was nursing not a kitten, but the HEAD to her decapitated kitten! She had exhumed it and carried it into the barn to nurse and snuggle. I screamed for my husband and he snatched the head to re-bury it (this time, under a pile of rocks, so she couldn't dig it out again).
My friends, what I saw that day is indeed still very vivid in my memory. It was burned there by it's literal grotesqueness and I've often wished it would just disappear. However, I find myself reflecting on the fact that it's an appropriate image for realizing what it's like when we 'nurse dead things in our lives'. What in the world do I mean by this? Well, I must admit that sometimes, when something bad happens to me, I'm tempted to re-hash the scenario in my mind and nurse those dark feelings long after the offensive occurance has passed. I harbor a demented contentment when I reflect on these things. I don't pretend to understand the human mind, but I know that I'm not the only person who digs up hurtful memories again and again and again. Why, why, why is there the temptation to do it?! What is that sick pleasure? Indeed, it is little more than exhuming and nursing a dead kitten.
Are you bitter over something someone did to hurt you? Are you mad at God over losing a loved one? There are many 'dead kittens at the breast' that we could have in our lives if we don't handle painful memories and offenses in a healthy way. Do not exhume the dead!
"(Love) keeps no record of wrongs." - 1 Corinthians 13:5
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