Can brains sweat?
I was just wondering, because if brains can sweat, mine most definitely is.
They say most humans tap only some measly percentage of our available brainpower. “They’ve” obviously never built a house.
I went through this whole house-building thing 20 years ago and it seemed easier than it is now. There weren’t so many doggone choices back then.
Do I want the trim painted Blizzard White, Glacier Ice, Wedding Bells, Hint ‘o Cream or one of the other 1,568 shades of off-white available at the paint store? Do I want kitchen cabinets made out of wood that comes from a forest in the U.S., South America … or perhaps Mars?
Door knobs or handles? Tile or hardwood? Do I want to pay a few extra bucks for carpet that repels everything but telemarketers? Brick or stone? Cultured marble or fiberglass? A “turnout” at the bottom of my staircase or a “monkey tail”? (I’m not kidding.)
And exactly what color of everything? And would I like fries with that order?
Too. Many. Choices.
Choices seem like a good thing, right? We like choices, right? Yes, we do, but there’s a limit and I’ve about reached mine. I almost long to saunter down to Ike Godsey’s General Store (remember “The Waltons”?) to choose from among the three paint colors he probably offered: yellow, white or blue. That’s it, choose one.
I’ve always been a very decisive person, but building this house is maxing me out. I know it’s just a house, just something that’s going to “burn in the end,” as we Christians like to say (whether we mean it or not) about our earthly goods.
It’s just “stuff,” but it is nevertheless “stuff” that has to be thought about, chosen, paid for and eventually taken care of. I still have to invest time learning about the options and trying to pick the best one. I still have to make my brain sweat.
I will be very glad when, in a few weeks (please, Lord?), I can stop choosing and start living with my decisions. But aye, there’s the rub, and therein lies the stress. Once made, decisions must indeed be lived with.
Choosing might come easy for some folks; living with those choices, not always so easy.
Our decisions ultimately define and determine us. Not the small ones about paint colors and bathroom fixtures. I quickly admit that whining about the process of building a house is like crying about having too many kinds of chocolate to choose from. A luxury worry.
But all around the world, every single minute of every day, people make life and death decisions. Who gets to eat the last scrap of bread in the house, this child or that one? Will I get blown up if I go to the market today? What am I going to do about this unplanned pregnancy? Is it time to take my loved one off the respirator?
And the most important of all: What do I believe about the claims of Jesus Christ to be the Son of God and Savior of all who believe in Him?
That decision makes stressing over a pile of paint sample chips seem ridiculous.
Thirty-six years ago, I found myself at a clear crossroads—would I follow Jesus or reject Him? No shades of gray … or off white… or taupe. Just yes or no.
I chose “yes.”
I’ve regretted some choices in my life, and I’m pretty sure I’ll come to regret a few of these little house decisions I’m currently making, but I’ve never regretted my decision to follow Jesus Christ.
That’s THE decision that puts all the other ones in perspective.
“ …choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve …” – Joshua 24:15b