I recently wanted to surprise my wife with some candy, so I picked her up a box of Whoppers at the store. At home, her anticipated happiness turned out to be disappointment. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Why did you buy me Whoppers?” she replied. “I thought I was doing something sweet for you,” I said. “But I don’t like Whoppers,” she explained. “I like Milk Duds, and I always have. You’re the one who likes Whoppers.”
Though I was obviously frustrated by this result, she was right. See, showing love is a complicated thing precisely because it either demonstrates that you really know the other person or else proves you don’t. And if I’m wrong about my wife’s preferences, it shows that I haven’t cared enough about her to learn them and see the world through her eyes. Intimacy presupposes knowledge, and gifts that might have worked on our first date are not impressive after 10 years of marriage.
All of which leads me to wonder whether my ways of trying to please God sufficiently reflect the knowledge of Him I’m supposed to have by this time…or not.
Thought of the Day 04.30.08.
Being sick is a strange experience. It always feels a little like my body is staging a revolt against me. My nose runs. My muscles ache. I sneeze or cough and can’t make it stop. And it always feels like I’m trying to run through a big pile of Jell-0. But this sense of being out of control is an illusion.
It’s not as though I’m normally in control of such things. It’s just that my involuntary body processes don’t get noticed when they’re working as I would like. I’m not less in control, I’m just less pleased with their behavior. And, oddly, they’re not even malfunctioning. Most of the unpleasant effects of a serious cold are really just the body’s way of working correctly to kill and expel enemy soldiers. So, although my body feels like it’s in rebellion, it’s actually doing precisely what it should to keep me alive.
And in the middle of such misery, it’s sometimes difficult to keep this proper perspective and be grateful toward my body rather than angry at it…and also the wise Designer who gave me this excellent gift.
It’s not as though I’m normally in control of such things. It’s just that my involuntary body processes don’t get noticed when they’re working as I would like. I’m not less in control, I’m just less pleased with their behavior. And, oddly, they’re not even malfunctioning. Most of the unpleasant effects of a serious cold are really just the body’s way of working correctly to kill and expel enemy soldiers. So, although my body feels like it’s in rebellion, it’s actually doing precisely what it should to keep me alive.
And in the middle of such misery, it’s sometimes difficult to keep this proper perspective and be grateful toward my body rather than angry at it…and also the wise Designer who gave me this excellent gift.
Thought of the Day 04.29.08
I like pie. No. If I’m honest, I’d actually have to admit that I love pie. Apple. Pecan. Pumpkin. Coconut Crème. If it’s pie, I’m in. When I watch a movie like Waitress or a TV show like Pushing Daisies, both of which feature exotic pie-making, I have to keep a napkin nearby in case I begin to leak around the mouth area.
Growing up, my mom and I would go to Poppin’ Fresh Pies (which later became Baker’s Square) just to have pie…Chocolate Silk for me (sometimes Bavarian Crème) and usually peach for her. Last week, some obscure chamber of my culinary memory cracked open and the craving for strawberry-rhubarb spilled out, my mom’s favorite pie to make from scratch. So I hunted for the ingredients and made one. Oh, yes. Happy belly.
It reminded me just how much I love pies. Not just some pies. All pies. And it made me realize that there are no pies I hate, only pies I haven’t yet learned to love. Just like people.
Thought of the Day 04.25.08
In general, there are three ways to refute any argument. You can show that the premises are false, that the pattern of reasoning is faulty, or that the conclusion itself is false. That’s why the Bible can be so useful. It will tell us why particular arguments are wrong, not by explaining the flawed pattern or premises, but by definitively rebuking the conclusion.
No matter how persuasive the rhetoric and ideas given in support of adultery or of dishonoring your parents, when someone voices them to you, all you have to know is that the Bible is clear that these conclusions are wrong. “But why?” your misguided opponent asks. “Because God said,” you reply. This may not be enough to persuade him, but it is a very nice place to start in your own thinking.
When the Bible is clear, the arguments don’t really matter. And replying to a variety of very interesting ideas by saying, “That’s all fine, but the Bible refutes your conclusion,” is precisely what is meant by the phrase “standing firm on the rock of God’s Word.”
No matter how persuasive the rhetoric and ideas given in support of adultery or of dishonoring your parents, when someone voices them to you, all you have to know is that the Bible is clear that these conclusions are wrong. “But why?” your misguided opponent asks. “Because God said,” you reply. This may not be enough to persuade him, but it is a very nice place to start in your own thinking.
When the Bible is clear, the arguments don’t really matter. And replying to a variety of very interesting ideas by saying, “That’s all fine, but the Bible refutes your conclusion,” is precisely what is meant by the phrase “standing firm on the rock of God’s Word.”
Thought of the Day 04.24.08
This morning, as I was cooking breakfast, Spencer came over and asked me where one of his toys was. I told him to look in the stuff scattered around the living room because I had just seen it there last night. He looked for a moment, didn’t find it, and went back to watching his fire fighter video on TV. A little later, he asked me again, and I told him the same thing. Again, he went back to watching the show.
After I was done cooking, I was momentarily tempted to look through the toys myself and find it for him, but I didn’t. Although it would have been very easy to do and would have made him happy, I stopped myself because I decided that I wasn’t going to care more about finding the toy for Spencer than he cared about it himself. If he’s only committed enough to ask me to look for it, but not enough to do so himself, I’m not going to.
He doesn’t realize it yet, but such vain requests dishonor me by valuing my time and effort less than his own, as though the father should be subject to the child’s fleeting whims. I wonder if God ever feels this way.
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