By Les Ferguson, Jr.

Columnist

 

I have a complaint. As complaints go, there are plenty that are weightier than this one. If truth be known, I’ve had some grievances that make my current complaint pale in comparison.

As a full-time minister and dedicated Christian, I believe God wants to hear about our struggles, worries, and fears. Because He is our Father, He desires to have those kinds of conversations with us—even our complaints.

I’m reminded of the story of Job. After losing his family, wealth, and health, his grievances and complaints were legitimate and justified — at least from a human perspective. His conversations with God were challenging and difficult, but never dismissive. Ultimately, God was vindicated. 

But somehow, I suspect my current frustration or complaint doesn’t reach the level of seriousness that warrants a discussion with the Creator, at least not one to be recorded for all time. 

While that is most likely the case, I’m still left with a grievance, a complaint, and a frustrating reality. As I write this column, there are no fewer than four different anti-itch medications, creams, or roller ball applicators on my portion of the bathroom countertop, and I need them all. 

As I wrote this column, I glanced at my left arm and felt myself being lifted off the couch by the powerful suction of a mosquito the size of an F-14, complete with its swept-back wings. If there’s a mosquito within three neighboring counties, it knows my name and how to track me down. 

Between rainstorms today, I tried to get my walk in but got zapped. Apparently, I’m a four-course meal, dessert, and late-night snack all rolled into one. 

If mosquitoes weren’t bad enough, now there are the chiggers. I have bites, bumps, and welts all over me. I’m a walking buffet. 

Back in 1970, Ray Stevens sang, “everything is beautiful in its own way.” Un-uh. No sir. No ma’am. I beg to differ with you. There is absolutely nothing beautiful about those little bloodsuckers and skin munchers. For the life of me, I cannot understand why they exist in the first place. 

There’s my complaint. I’m sure there’s some ecological, circle of life reason why God made them. At this point, the only reason I can fathom is so anti-itch makers can have a job. 

As much as I fuss about all the itching, I am reminded that “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” (Psalms‬ 19‬:1‬ NIV‬‬)

Excuse me while I find some new, extra-strength itch cream…