When I was a kid, our refrigerator was nearly always packed with small plastic containers, each storing mysterious morsels of leftover food. Every so often, my Mom would unload the fridge and serve us what she called “dab suppers” – a dab of this and a dab of that. She wasn’t into wasting anything, so no matter how small the “dab” might be, it was served up.
Sometimes my brain looks like my Mom’s refrigerator — full of plastic margarine and Cool Whip tubs, each holding a small story or idea or analogy. None of them are big enough to be considered a complete meal, but if we throw them together, they might just make a meal. Today, it’s time to unload the fridge, so I’m serving you up a couple of “dabs”…
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Recently, I spent some delightful hours with the ladies of the McKissick Study Club. Although I was the guest speaker, I was much more blessed to be a listener as these ladies joked, laughed, and shared their stories with me. One story in particular touched my heart.
A grandmother was telling me about her grandchildren and explained that her 4-year-old grandson has a medical condition that requires him to wear a bulky back brace. At this point, the child’s great-grandmother, who was also sitting with us, jumped in to add: “And do you know that this child’s father had a brace made to fit him? It wasn’t real, but it looked real, and every time the boy has to wear the back brace, his Daddy puts his on, too. Can you imagine?”
Yes, having just seen the film, “The Passion of the Christ,” the night before this luncheon, I could imagine – because I have seen such love before.
“(Jesus), being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made Himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled himself and became obedient to death– even death on a cross!” (Philippians 2:5-8)
That Daddy put on a back brace; Jesus put on human flesh – both painted such true and beautiful pictures of love.
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My last column was about how I hate to read instruction manuals. Having pondered the point a bit more, it occurs to me that my determination to plow through manuals is directly proportional to my desire to actually use the information I’m reading. I cannot make sense out of my sewing machine manual because I really don’t want to sew.
When I decided to learn to play golf, I started reading books and magazines on the sport. The instructions don’t always make sense, but I have persisted. Why? Because I love to play golf and I really want to get better at it (without paying for lessons).
Do you say you’ve tried to read the Bible but it doesn’t make any sense to you? Let me ask you this: How much do you want to get to know God? How desperate are you to find out what He has to say to you? How willing are you to do whatever He might tell you to do?
As a teenager, I made occasional token attempts to read the Bible. I’d always put it aside and say, “Oh well, I tried. This just doesn’t make sense.” I patted myself on the back for my feeble efforts and figured God would be appeased for awhile. But I had no real desire to know Who God was, and I sure didn’t care what He wanted my life to look like.
And then at the age of 19, I got desperate for some answers. My life looked good on the outside, but inside, I was bone-tired from all my efforts to make myself happy. I laid my life before God and said, “Here – if you want this mess, please take it. I’m really tired of running things, so if you can do anything with me, I’m Yours.”
I imagine God smiled, rubbed His heavenly hands together and said something like, “Hot dog! Now I can show you who I really am. Open My book and I’ll start talking to you through it.”
And He did, and has ever since. And He’ll do the same for you – if you really want Him to.