Jonathots Daily Blog
(2017)
A rather new phenomenon. At least, I think so.
I can’t remember a time in my four-decade career when people have led so persistently with their diagnoses.
Perhaps that’s a bit unclear. Here’s what I mean: when I meet new human beings, within a very short time they tell me what ails them, the name of their condition, their treatment, and sometimes even the conclusion.
Now, this is not limited to older people. Younger folks do the same thing, although sometimes it will be proffered from their parents standing nearby.
To a certain degree I think our society has become the victim of “diagnosis-hocus-pocus.” Rather than coming to the conclusion that we’re just human beings, and therefore an amazing collage of “flawed” and “blessed,” we are beginning to establish our distinction based upon the uniqueness of conditions.
I, too, received a diagnosis–actually, several of them–about eighteen years ago. I don’t share these. Why? Because pity in no way resembles respect, and sympathy is a horrible substitute for love. But if pity and sympathy are what you want, then having a nearly unpronounceable illness might be valuable.
I know this could be misinterpreted as an attack against the medical field, or some sort of assertion on my part that “we should not be so concerned about our health.” I do believe in modern medicine and am quite aware that ailments exist, even to the point of tormenting my brothers and sisters.
But I just think that how we feel cannot be the impetus for what we are.
We are all flawed–and if we develop a sense of joy about being alive, we can persevere and achieve blessing.
I, like all my fellow-travelers, could describe my aches and pains and keep you busy for a good hour and a half. But there’s a wonderful statement in the Good Book that says, “Let everything be done to the edification of all.”
I just don’t think anyone is edified by hearing me complain. I don’t think humanity grows by realizing my weaknesses.
Somewhere along the line, each one of us has to walk away from a diagnosis and move toward a prognosis of living on with a little hurt.
I’m not saying we shouldn’t take treatment–but I am saying that when treatment overtakes your desire to excel, multiply your talents and love life and the folks around you, you’ve already put one foot in the grave.
- Not every child who is hyperactive needs medication.
- Not ever skin rash is a sign that we are allergic to forty-four different chemicals.
- Not every headache is a brain tumor.
- And not every sore knee means that you should be wheeled into surgery and turned into an android.
All of us are graciously flawed and blessed–flawed in order to truly appreciate the value of our blessing; and blessed so that we don’t spend so much time thinking about our flaws.
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