I don’t know about you, but camel hair shirts really
give me a rash! Maybe I’m allergic to
camel hair. I hadn’t even realised I was
wearing one until one day my writing partner suggested several radical measures
to take on the piece I was writing. She
was absolutely right, but after the call I carried on like the camel from which
my shirt was made! I bellowed my
objections that the load was too heavy. The way was too long. I moaned
and groaned. I whined and carried on!
stood before me. He didn’t raise His
voice. There was no sarcasm in His
tone. He just stood there as Commander
in Chief, as Lord. And He said, “You
said you wanted to learn everything I have to teach you.” The truth of His words took my breath
away. In the spirit I saw myself fall to
my knees. I was undone by my own
words. He was right. Absolutely right!
many people wanted to pray for my healing. I let them. When I was not healed right away, another round of caring folk suggested
first this healer and then another. I
went to hear some of them, but always had to leave before much of anything
happened. I don’t know why healing can’t
happen in the church before 9:00 or 10:00 p.m.
knowing that the Lord was going to use the MS somehow for His glory and my
benefit. That doesn’t make sense, I
know, but God’s logic is quite different from ours and His values turn ours on
end. I didn’t understand either—still
don’t. But I told someone that I wanted
to “milk” this experience of the disease for all it was worth. I was not in a
hurry to receive my healing because I wanted to learn everything God had to teach me during this time. I did not want to do another lap
such a force I stopped mid-whine. The
way He brought my own words back to me did something inside me. The whine was gone. All I could say was, “Yes, Lord.” I felt complaining was over and done—that I
could rub on liniment when arduous work made me sore, but not complain? Never again!.
righteousness the Lord had given me was a camel hair shirt. I asked the Him “Why the shirt? I can’t get it off.” He explained that He
provided the resources I would need when I accepted His calling. I was incredulous! “I need this hot, smelly, irritating
undershirt!?” He didn’t respond to the
question, just kept talking. “Every calling has its task(s). You are to engage the tasks, but as you do,
the tasks will work on you, building and shaping you into the fullness of the
character of Christ. The work and
disciplines of your calling are the camel hair shirt. The things in and about that calling which
poke and irritate the flesh, these are my gift to you.
the rigours of MS are my “shirt” and if I am to learn all the Lord has to teach
me, I will submit to those disciplines.
I guess once a camel, always a camel. Sad to say, once the initial shock wore off, I have since then skated
quite close to the edge of complaining.
Like Rudyard Kipling”s camel, I have “humphed”.
of. The work, or the people with whom I
live and work, poke and jab and my flesh is irritatingly brought to
light—sometimes raw from the chaffing, like an untended saddle sore. I am thinking, probably all flesh is allergic to camel hair.
choose to forgive and heal, bring flesh to death in relationship to others and
the Lord. I can submit to the
disciplines of my calling, or I can moan and groan and carry on like a
camel. I am finding that as I do the
nasty work of bringing flesh to death, the camel hairs irritate less. The disciplines, the parameters of my calling—even
the people with whom I work struggle against or struggle because they are not
available—all become the banks through which my spirit flows. They define my limits and boundaries; but
they are not barriers to restrict or hem me in. Rather, they give direction and purpose to my life. They become the avenues through which others
are blessed—to God’s glory and my benefit.
not the camel hair shirt causing the problem. I tend to overheat when I move
too quickly. I can’t seem to sprint down
the lane set before me like an Olympic athlete—too much friction from my
shirt. The hairs poke my flesh reminding
me to not move that way. They encourage
me to proceed at His pace, to stand straighter and walk taller, more like our
Lord. That irritating gift keeps me on
task—it helps me remember what it is I am doing and why.When I tire and collapse in a heap; when my
shoulders melt down into my hips, my body doesn’t fit the shirt properly and
the goofy thing starts poking. When I
lean into the flesh the camel hairs encourage me to straighten up, to move and
walk in the ways of the Lord. But until
I learn to submit to it, this darned camel hair shirt is going to keep on
giving me a rash!