When I was a boy, there were few things I dreaded more than “jelly disease” with the related plague “syrup disease.” Once you get even a drop of jelly on your person, this drop will spread and nothing will stop it. You try to wipe off the jam, but it spreads. There is no limit to the ability of jelly to spread. One drop of jelly could cover the entire world if not put in check.
And stopping the jelly is hard, very hard.
You cannot touch the jelly with your hand or the disease may become terminal. Since the jelly usually begins on your hand, this makes curing the problem very difficult. Wiping with a paper towel is not advised, because a dry paper towel will catch some of the jelly and transport it to your mother’s clean table cloth. This cannot be stopped and once it is there, the entire table cloth will be covered with jelly.
What is to be done?
When I was a lad, I discovered that a bath or shower would stop the disease. Short of this radical measure (before Saturday!), one had to scrub the spot with soap and water. The entire area had to be soaked and then, perhaps, you were free of jelly disease.
Or so you thought until the cunning last piece of jelly on your tee shirt fastened itself to Mom’s best piece of furniture.
The only way to be truly safe from jelly disease is to never use jelly. Since a boy must use jelly or face dry peanut butter on bread alone, this is an unavoidable first-world childhood problem. As an adult, I have managed to solve the dilemma, because my darling wife will no longer let me touch jelly. She handles the stuff herself with her mystic super powers.
There is a lesson here somewhere (there always is) and I found it today in the words of the CS Lewis of the ancient world:
“He that toucheth pitch shall be defiled therewith; and he that hath fellowship with a proud man shall be like unto him.”
Pride turns out to be worse than jelly and a lot less necessary. I have touched pitch and there is no pleasant way to get rid of it. At least you can lick sticky fingers covered in jam, but pitch is disgusting.
Get near a raging ego and you tend to become like it just to survive. Pride spreads. Of course most of us struggle a bit with pride, few of us are the moral equivalent of my wife with jelly: able to be near the stuff without getting sticky herself. As a result, given my own struggles, I do all I can to avoid the stuff. I have watched it consume ministries and destroy leaders. Once one person starts naming dropping, boasting, and building his own kingdom, the rest of us are sure to follow.
Pride is the jelly disease of the soul. It begins sweet, but ends everywhere destroying everything.
Whether it is in a Presidential candidate or in a pastor, we had better flee extreme cases of pride, because we have enough temptation of our own. (We can only hope to become humble enough that folks don’t have to flee us!) Of course, you have to meet and greet proud people or you could not live in this world or turn on cable news. The wise man is saying don’t fellowship!
Don’t come under his authority: jelly disease.
Don’t become best friends forever: jelly disease.
Don’t invite them over for dinner: jelly disease.
Don’t vote for them: jelly disease.
God provides wise and humble people to help the proud. He gives grace even there for which I am glad, but in the meantime: beware.
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