“Our only health is the disease
If we obey the dying nurse
Whose constant care is not to please
But to remind us of our, and Adam’s curse,
And that, to be restored, our sickness must grow worse.”
– The Four Quartets
To those God has, at present, filled with sorrow, he has also poured for them a double measure of joy. He is only waiting for us to finish his first cup so that he may hand to us the other. The habit of bulimia presents an interesting problem. It rejects the cup of sorrow like a child refusing medicine. It throws up the ingredients necessary for healing. But there must come a time when we pinch our upturned noses and accept what will make us well. We are lucky when it taste like bubble gum, less so when it is flavoured like grape, and most unfortunate if it is that horrid mint-cherry blend that mom always keeps high in the cupboard. It must sit in the stomach, digest, and feel uncomfortable on the tongue. There will be many doses, and most likely it will taste bitter, like vinegar. But it will finish like wine. That’s God’s promise. That is the cup of the garden and the sponge lifted to the bloody lips of Jesus at Calvary.
I welcome your thoughts!