Watch Out for Deranged Lunatics
Lurking Along Lonesome the Rabbit Trails...
To continue where we left off... The daily devotionals can play an important role in the development of our spiritual life. Here's for example how it works for me:
Before I begin, I want to assure you that my husband has no objections to this unorthodox arrangement. In fact, given the passionate nature of our relationship, he may even say that Mr. Chambers has saved our marriage many times, except that we know that there is only one Savior, and Mr. Chambers, wonderful as he may be, is not Him.
As I was saying... I have brought my friend Oswald into our marriage, since I've known him before I met my husband. Having been such a wonderful friend to me all these years, he has earned his place where he mostly snoozes on the top of my bedside table, next to my Bible. Each morning, however, I reach out and grab him, drag him into our bed and throw him and my Bible on my crumpled-up pillow. Then, I stumble into the kitchen and fix myself some Turkish coffee. While I do that, my friend O.C. (not to be confused with OCD) strips down my cozy, fluffy spiritual blankets and, once I get situated with my first cup, he grabs a bucket of ice-cold water and splashes it into my sleepy face.
Woo....Hey! What was THAT all about?!!! I cry out, all the sleepy cobwebs strung around my dripping shoulder.
God writes the new name on those places only in our lives where He has erased the pride and self-sufficiency and self-interest. Some of us have the new name in spots only, like spiritual measles. My friend responds to my yelps for help cheerfully, reaching for something behind his back. I am not sure what is more offensive to me in this moment - the insulting implication of his words or his cheeery tone.
I... I have no clue what you are talking about... I stutter, shaking my head like a wet dog, trying to get rid of the dripping droplets and ice-chips.
Sure you don't. This is exactly why I am here! I have something that might help you understand it better, he says while pulling what I finally recognize as a rubber mallet which he swings and lands on top of my head once, and then again, and then one more time:
Pride is the deification of self, and this today in some of us is not of the order of the Pharisee, but of the publican. To say "Oh, I'm no saint," is acceptable to human pride, but it is unconscious blasphemy against God. It literally means that you defy God to make you a saint, "I am much too weak and hopeless, I am outside the reach of the Atonement." Humility before men may be unconscious blasphemy before God.
I rub my head in the spot where the mallet has repeatedly hit me, dumbfounded by Oswald's passionate words. In fact, so dumbfounded that for a split second, I, my ever-talkative, ever verbal I, is left utterly and completely speechless. He takes advantage of my silence and hits me one more time on the top of my head... The sound the mallet produces is not much different from the one created by the last nail when pounded into a coffin:
Why are you not a saint? WHY?
No comments:
Post a Comment