Garbage Can Lids and Snarling Wolves

My town recently went to the big, plastic, flip-top garbage cans for the garbage truck with the mechanized arm. This is great for a number of reasons. The cans are larger and sturdier than the ones you can buy at the store. This one will hold a weeks worth of trash plus whatever junk I pull out of the garage. The hinged lid means I don't have to go searching for the lid after every thunderstorm. The truck comes down the road instead of the back alley, so now I don't have to traipse across the back yard in the torrential downpour to take the trash out. Most importantly it frees up the old metal trash cans and allows them to be used in a more vital roll...shields. If you've got a stick and a garbage can lid, you're all set for a fun afternoon. Growing up we had the big, stupid, plastic ones but my grandparents had two metal ones with lids. The best thing was, my grandfather had a cinder block pit where he burned trash so the cans were usually empty and the lids were fair game! Boy did my brother and I stink at blocking with those shields.

Garbage can lids are not very effective shields. For a shield to be effective it has to fit the situation. A small round shield works great for hand to hand combat between two lone fighters, but wouldn't do so good deflecting a flight of arrows. By the same token a larger, knee to shoulder shield works great against arrows but could hinder a fighter in a gladiator bout. Certain shields were designed for certain things and to use them successfully you have to use them the way they were intended to be used. To use them any other way, or to use a garbage can lid instead, can lead to dire consequences. Grab your Bible and turn to John chapter 10.

Following the Blind Man Through the Gate

What are you scared of? I'm not talking about the normal laundry list of little things; I'm asking about the things that greatly unnerve you. What makes your heart race and your stomach turn over? This may sound weird, but the open sea scares me more than just a little. I'm not talking about being on a boat and sipping lemonade on the deck. I'm talking about IN the open water. There's no bottom in sight, much less touch. Your vision underwater is measured in feet instead of miles. You're at the mercy of whatever comes along...and you can't even see it coming. We went to a 3D movie a few weeks back and the camera zoomed in on a ship out in the ocean. Because of the angle and the 3D effect, it felt like you were swimming in the ocean toward the ship. I didn't like it. At all. Not one bit. What's funny is, I would love to get in a shark cage and watch a Great White shark go nuts except for the vast nothingness. I don't think I could handle it streaking out of the darkness going 40 miles an hour. Give me a half of a mile to watch it come and I think I would be all right…as all right as you could be with a cage keeping a shark away.

To be honest, it's really the unexpected surprise that terrifies me. I'm pretty sure that most of this is because of my severe near sightedness. I always joke that if they change the "E" at the top of the chart, I'd never know. Not being able to see can be a scary thing. For me, it's about power. Some of you ladies just rolled your eyes, but it's true. Not that I have to be more powerful than anyone else, I don't want anyone to have power over me! I want to be in control, and to lose my vision is to lose some of that control. Just like the murky water, I want to be able to see what is around me. I know these two topics seem completely unrelated, but it will all come together. We're still looking at the "I Am's" of Jesus but first I want to look at the story of a blind man. (pun intended)

This Little Light of Mine

Have you ever been wrong and didn't realize it? Have you ever been wrong and completely aware of it? Sometimes we find ourselves where we aren't supposed to be, other times we head across the line knowingly. Regardless of how you arrived there, when your wrong doing is made known...what is your reaction? My kids have a cycle that they go through without fail. First up is "Huh?" If I pretend like I don't know what your talking about, it will fool you. This is very close to the toddler that hides by closing his eyes. Next up is, "Not Me!" When they are "made aware" of the wrong doing that took place, they looked shocked at the notion of anyone doing something so heinous and deny any involvement. Most of the time this is followed closely by, "It was HIM!" Looking shocked and innocent didn't work, so now we need to misdirect the attention onto someone else. My youngest has actually blamed his brother for using the bathroom in his Pull-Up! After this comes the back track. Once they discover that the scrutiny hasn't shifted, they go back to "Not Me!", but this time it is accompanied by nervous twitches. They won't look at me, they can't stand still, or they can't stop moving their hands. They know they are running out of options and they are starting to get worried. Finally we get to the last evasion in the series, "Silence." Deep down they know they are caught, but they can't own up to it. All it takes is one more push though, because they've reached the end of the road and they know it. They stand at the brink and look over the edge into the fog shrouded crevasse. They have no idea what is coming next and it is terrifying. Deep down they know they did wrong and they know they deserve punishment.

Since my three little ones are all preschoolers, their punishment is very shallow except in the most extreme cases. 99% of the time it is a little pop on the hand accompanied by the usual parental guilt/love. But that's only if they willingly confess at some point along this route. If they persevere all the way to the final step of silence, then the punishment gets more "severe" and I try to explain that to them. "You're getting your hand popped for throwing the metal trivet across the room for the hundredth time. You're not getting any dessert because you lied to me." (My grandmother HATES the word lie. "Call it telling a story!" Nope...they lied!) Now the waterworks start. "But I don't want my hand popped!" "I'm sorry, but you know that we don't throw the metal trivet across the room." But soon, they get over the physical punishment. It didn't really hurt, it just stung a little. I also try to deflect them after a few minutes so they don't cry through supper. But when the food is eaten, and it's time for dessert...and they don't get any...the fireworks are epic! They'll look over at their siblings eating a piece of cake or a cookie and will come unhinged. It's almost like those old cartoons where the tears actually fly out of the eye. I calmly remind them, "I gave you a chance to tell me the truth and you didn't do it. Since you lied to me, you don't get dessert. I'm sorry." Then they just sit and wallow in their loss. Here's my point, we adults aren't much different when it comes to our own choices. We know something is wrong, but that's not enough to keep us from doing it. The Bible alludes to this numerous times as our "flesh". As we are, we cannot keep from doing wrong. It takes something more than us. Today we'll be looking at Jesus' next "I Am" statement, and  the events that lead up to it.

Giraffe Begins With "J" and God is a Crutch

My four year old daughter is a very adamant little girl. We were driving to get something to eat a few weeks ago and I was using the time to help them practice sounding out words and matching letters. I'll ask the three of them, "What starts with M?" My three year-old son has no interest beyond whatever truck or construction vehicle he can see out his window to the point that we are constantly interrupted with, "Dere's another ba-hoe, Dad!" My four year old son enjoys the "game" but he's not near as quick as his know-it-all twin sister. She immediately starts hollering out words. "M-M-M-Mouse!! Daddy, mouse starts with M." And I am quite sure I've caught a haughty look or two being shot at her brother. She's so bad, I'll tell her to not answer and I can hear her doing it under her breath!

So we start with A and work our way through. C always gives us problems, but Sesame Street has taught them that C makes two different sounds, so its not too big of a hiccup. D is easy, but they occasionally confuse the long E and the short I sounds. F goes off without a hitch, and I expected G to be easy too. Boy, was I wrong! "What starts with G?" I was expecting a quick answer from the honor student behind me, but she was quiet...as was her brother. I looked in the mirror and I could see her staring out the window frantically searching for a "G" word. Like any good parent, I offer suggestions, "What about g-g-goat? Or g-g-goose?" "Yes Daddy, those start with G!" What's funny was, the tone she used was pure, "Good job, Daddy!" So then I made my mistake, "What about giraffe?" This little girl cut her eyes at me in the mirror and used the teenage "your stupid" tone, "J-J-Jiraffe starts with J, Daddy!" I calmly instruct her that giraffe does indeed start with the letter G. This was like poking a hornet's nest. She fought me on this for at least five minutes before I convinced her that G can make two sounds just like C can. She was so sure of what she knew that she couldn't get passed it to the truth. We've taken a few weeks and studied how God describes himself, now I want to move to the seven "I AM" phrases Jesus uses to describe who He is and what His mission is.