They always start the same way. The television commercial opens on impossibly healthy people moving in slow motion, as if life itself has been gently edited. They’re rafting down pristine rivers, walking through sunlit fairs, or driving along a flawless California coastline with the top down and no traffic in sight. Everyone is smiling. Not a casual smile, but a wide, toothy smile that suggests nothing bad has ever happened to them, or ever will.
Happy music plays in the background, light and reassuring. Then a warm, friendly woman’s voice enters, calm and confident, as if she is about to offer life-changing wisdom. She tells you to ask your doctor about a medication for your rash, your diabetes, your twitching limbs, or your depression. The problem sounds manageable. The solution sounds hopeful.
Then she keeps talking.
What follows is a rapid, breathless list of side effects that feels wildly out of proportion to the original complaint. Nausea. Incontinence. Dizziness. Vision problems. Mood changes. Uncontrollable movements. Increased risk of infection. Liver damage. Heart failure. In some cases, death. All of this is delivered cheerfully while the happy people continue smiling and tossing frisbees like nothing alarming is being said. The happiest border collie appears and looks toward the camera…ol’ Shep is selling pills, too.
The contrast is remarkable. On one hand, you’re watching a couple laugh while walking through a farmers market. On the other, you are being warned that this pill may cause your organs to stop cooperating with each other. Somehow, the background music never changes…it actually gets more upbeat.
You begin to question the entire transaction. Is it really worth it? Is a mild rash so unbearable that it justifies a future involving chronic diarrhea and a complicated relationship with your liver? The ad seems confident that it is. Ol’ Shep appears again and nods his agreement that the bloated abdomen and possible hairy tongue will be worth it.
By the end, the woman gently reminds you to “ask your doctor” about the medication, as if this were a simple conversation and not a negotiation with fate. You sit there, reconsidering everything, and quietly decide that you will keep the rash. They can keep their pills and Shep can go back to herding sheep or chasing squirrels.
Watching humans, it becomes clear that we have reached a strange place. We have pills for everything, and commercials to convince us we need them, even when the cure sounds far worse than the problem.
I’m glad that God gave us His Word straight. He doesn’t mince words or mask trials with a happy soundtrack. He doesn’t need a border collie to sell us Scripture and eternal hope. He points to sin as the problem and the Gospel as the cure made possible by our suffering Savior…and also informs us that following Christ has its own side effects.
Side effects may include persecution, joy, peace, suffering, hope, confidence, social ridicule, fellowship, and love. That’s right. Following Christ has highs and lows, risks and rewards, but the Gos-pill is the greatest pill any human can ever receive…and it ultimately leads to eternal life.
