When I was a kid and got sick my Mom fixed my chicken noodle soup and read me a story and tucked me in “snug like a bug in a rug”. Dad would come in with some swell toy or a carton of Cokes (somehow you could keep those down when nothing else worked). It meant I didn’t have to go to school or clean my room. It almost made being sick fun (as long as I didn’t throw-up, of course).
I think there is some of that by-gone need in all of us to feel loved, secure, irresponsible, lazy, and cheered-up. We get knocked around a lot and wish that somebody bigger and stronger and smarter than we are would come in and fix our problems and waste all the bad guys who caused them. It’s like that old taunt, “My father can beat up your father”.
Problem is that the government as “Dad” or “Cartaker” is kind of a paradox because it is our tax dollars paying for our new toy, Coke, and chicken noodle soup (metaphorically speaking). I am retired now. I am in a wheelchair and require a catheter. I still have a great life with good friends and family (not far away), my art and writing and cat, etc. I make every day productive.
But will the government-run healthcare system see me as more of a liability than an asset? If so, might they someday suggest that it might be wiser for me to check out of this cheap hotel so that their room service can go to someone who still produces goods and services and has many years left of paying taxes.
I dearly hope that does not happen to me or anyone else. But if it does and I cannot do anything to stop it, my only answer is to trust in Christ with all my heart and soul to deliver me and others through the crisis or take us home. I see our democratic republic slipping out of our hands, but they cannot rob me of the beautiful eternal things that they never gave me to start with. God is my true and eternal “Dad”. He can beat up anybody, but He’d rather give them the best of everything.