From the summer…
It has been oppressively dry around here lately. Temperatures have soared into the 90-degree range, have hovered there for weeks, and the only thing that has come along is a passing afternoon heat shower. People have been trying to keep watch on lawns and gardens while taking care that they themselves don’t get overheated and dehydrated trying to take care of the lawns and gardens. Everyone has been watching for relief, for the right cloud to pass over and bring a break from the drought. Everything has been thirsty.
Then, last night, relief came. It rained…then again today, a few times. The rains have come back for a time.
I was thinking about that last night when I was looking at the last great annual feast of the nation of Israel, the Feast of Tabernacles. The feast was to celebrate the way that God provided for the Israelites as they wandered through the desert after being brought out of bondage in Egypt; it was a time to remember the provision and deliverance of God. The feast also took place at the time of the year when the rainy season was about to begin. All eyes were upon the skies as the anticipation built for the life-giving rain. Throughout the feast, water was poured from a golden pitcher into a basin in the court of the Jewish Temple. This water symbolized the providence of God and reminded Israel of their dependence upon the LORD for survival and sustenance, both in the nation’s past and present. During this ceremony, Psalms were sung. One of the main Psalms recited was 118, one which contains verses that point to the coming of the Messiah (the Anointed One, the Deliverer). On the last day of the feast, the celebration surrounding the water-pouring ceremony was more elaborate than any of the previous days. Everyone was focused upon the beginning of the rainy season and the promise of the One who would be sent by God as the great Deliverer, the One who was the fulfillment of the thirst for eternal provision…
“On the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried out, saying, ‘If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink. He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water’” (John 7:37, 38).
These were asking for the provision of God, and God was in their midst to answer. Jesus was saying, “You’re anticipating the Messiah? I’m the only One who can meet your deepest level of spiritual thirst.”
Maybe the skies in your life have been as cloudless and stark recently. Perhaps the rains have not come as you have anticipated that they would. Maybe, like the ground around here lately, you’re just thirsty and dry. “If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink…”
Dustin C. George
Minister to Single Adults
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Buttercup Wasn't Yellow
Everybody should try it…once. You get two teams of generally athletic people, take them to a basketball court, place them on the backs of donkeys, pitch a ball into the mix, and have them compete in a basketball game. While I was teaching high school, I was part of this grand experience…donkey basketball. Those two words, “donkey” and “basketball” seem to fit together very poorly. I have news for you: the words don’t clash nearly as much as the actual event.
Before we went out to play, we signed a waiver for a long list on possible injuries (including death), donned helmets, and were told, “If you are thrown, get up fast. The donkey will try to stomp you.” I thought, “What kind of animals are we facing here?” Like some reluctant gladiators of old, we were lined up, and the donkeys were brought in. Small, soft, lazy-looking donkeys. I thought it to be a joke, until the second half. I had done so well on my donkey for the first half that the “donkey coach” came over and said that he would be giving me “Buttercup.” (To name this donkey “Buttercup,” I discovered, would be analogous to tagging a Great White with the title of “Pooky” or “Snookums.”)
Buttercup seemed calm enough, until the second-half whistle blew. The first time I was thrown, I fractured my finger. The next time, good Buttercup pitched me over her head into a complete flip. The last time she threw me, it was headlong into the table with the scoreboard equipment on it. The metal legs of the table managed to catch one of my shoulders and stop me cold. It’s a humbling experience to crawl across a hardwood floor from under a table, holding your ribs, trying to catch your breath, making slow progress back toward a creature looking at you with a resolute eye, knowing that you pose no threat no matter how many you may breathe.
No matter what I did, I could not wear this donkey down. She simply persevered without fear. Too stubborn to give up, this soft little creature had inside an I-beam of steel.
Makes one think of endurance…
The bible speaks of those who endured hardship (Heb. 12), and how we are to “run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith” (Heb. 12:1b-2a). The word used for “endurance” in this passage literally means, “a remaining under.” The pressure is there, the trials are present, yet we are to remain resolute, stubbornly holding in place despite the storms that rage. I’d like to be more Buttercup-like, calmly facing the second half of the game with the confidence that no matter what happens, I can endure it. But sometimes it seems so hard. Of course, the key for that attitude is the second part of the passage from Hebrews above: “looking unto Jesus.” He is the ultimate example of patience, endurance and perseverance, and I can never hope to last without Him.
As I look to Him, I can be, by His power, calm and resolute under the pressure, even if it takes a long while for the trial to pass.
All of this came to mind recently as I read a passage written by John Killinger retelling a story from The Atlantic Monthly about the breaking of horses to lead in the early days of the West…
“A little burro sometimes would be harnessed to a wild steed. Bucking and raging…the two would be turned loose like Laurel and Hardy to proceed out onto the desert range. They could be seen disappearing over the horizon, the great steed dragging that little burro along and throwing him about like a bag of cream puffs. They might be gone for days, but eventually they would come back. The little burro would be seen first, trotting back across the horizon, leading the submissive steed in tow. Somewhere out there on the rim of the world, that steed would become exhausted from trying to get rid of the burro, and in that moment, the burro would take mastery and become the leader…The battle is to the determined, not to the outraged; to the committed, not to those who are merely dramatic.”
I pray that I would be so determined when harnessed to the trial.
Dustin C. George
Minister to Single Adults
www.sevierheights.org
Before we went out to play, we signed a waiver for a long list on possible injuries (including death), donned helmets, and were told, “If you are thrown, get up fast. The donkey will try to stomp you.” I thought, “What kind of animals are we facing here?” Like some reluctant gladiators of old, we were lined up, and the donkeys were brought in. Small, soft, lazy-looking donkeys. I thought it to be a joke, until the second half. I had done so well on my donkey for the first half that the “donkey coach” came over and said that he would be giving me “Buttercup.” (To name this donkey “Buttercup,” I discovered, would be analogous to tagging a Great White with the title of “Pooky” or “Snookums.”)
Buttercup seemed calm enough, until the second-half whistle blew. The first time I was thrown, I fractured my finger. The next time, good Buttercup pitched me over her head into a complete flip. The last time she threw me, it was headlong into the table with the scoreboard equipment on it. The metal legs of the table managed to catch one of my shoulders and stop me cold. It’s a humbling experience to crawl across a hardwood floor from under a table, holding your ribs, trying to catch your breath, making slow progress back toward a creature looking at you with a resolute eye, knowing that you pose no threat no matter how many you may breathe.
No matter what I did, I could not wear this donkey down. She simply persevered without fear. Too stubborn to give up, this soft little creature had inside an I-beam of steel.
Makes one think of endurance…
The bible speaks of those who endured hardship (Heb. 12), and how we are to “run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith” (Heb. 12:1b-2a). The word used for “endurance” in this passage literally means, “a remaining under.” The pressure is there, the trials are present, yet we are to remain resolute, stubbornly holding in place despite the storms that rage. I’d like to be more Buttercup-like, calmly facing the second half of the game with the confidence that no matter what happens, I can endure it. But sometimes it seems so hard. Of course, the key for that attitude is the second part of the passage from Hebrews above: “looking unto Jesus.” He is the ultimate example of patience, endurance and perseverance, and I can never hope to last without Him.
As I look to Him, I can be, by His power, calm and resolute under the pressure, even if it takes a long while for the trial to pass.
All of this came to mind recently as I read a passage written by John Killinger retelling a story from The Atlantic Monthly about the breaking of horses to lead in the early days of the West…
“A little burro sometimes would be harnessed to a wild steed. Bucking and raging…the two would be turned loose like Laurel and Hardy to proceed out onto the desert range. They could be seen disappearing over the horizon, the great steed dragging that little burro along and throwing him about like a bag of cream puffs. They might be gone for days, but eventually they would come back. The little burro would be seen first, trotting back across the horizon, leading the submissive steed in tow. Somewhere out there on the rim of the world, that steed would become exhausted from trying to get rid of the burro, and in that moment, the burro would take mastery and become the leader…The battle is to the determined, not to the outraged; to the committed, not to those who are merely dramatic.”
I pray that I would be so determined when harnessed to the trial.
Dustin C. George
Minister to Single Adults
www.sevierheights.org
I Never Figured Out How to Swing on a Vine While Holding the Sword
Zorro and Tarzan were my childhood heroes. Zorro could wear a mask in public and play with swords with no one ever telling him that he shouldn’t do so. Tarzan, counter-cultural “ape-man”, lived in a tree house and swung around on vines all day long. For me, at the time, both seemed like great ways to live. (I still think that living in a tree house might have its perks.)
It was always great to play “Zorro.” I would wear some cloth around my head (into which I had cut eyeholes) while I brandished a fencing sword made from a straightened coat hanger and a Dixie cup. I didn’t play Tarzan much, probably for a lack of vines in the immediate area around our house. But no matter how much I pretended, no matter how I thought my costume looked, no matter how well I could use my…coat hanger, it simply did not make me Zorro. I was pretending to be something else.
Children aren’t the only ones who pretend.
We don masks at times to hide who we really are and to present a better image. The reasons are varied. It may be because of shame, or fear, or pride that we attempt to disguise ourselves. We don’t want to let anyone know just what is going on inside, so we take great care to arrange the window-dressing in our storefronts. The mask may insulate us, but it isolates us as well. Sometimes, if you’ve been wearing that mask long enough, you might even begin to fool yourself and think yourself to be much better than you actually are; you might even begin to believe the front you’re showing everyone else. It takes some strong truth to get through the mask.
Jesus confronted some “mask-wearers” of His day with the strong truth:
“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you cleanse the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of extortion and self-indulgence. Blind Pharisee, first cleanse the inside of the cup and dish, that the outside of them may be clean also. Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs which indeed appear beautiful outwardly, but inside are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness. Even so you also outwardly appear righteous to me, but inside you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness” (Matt. 23:25-28).
Jesus uses the word “hypocrite.” This is a term which literally means, “one who wears a mask.” According to Jesus, if the outside doesn’t match the inside, then it is hypocrisy.
Maybe it’s time to stop pretending.
Dustin C. George
Minister to Single Adults
www.sevierheights.org
It was always great to play “Zorro.” I would wear some cloth around my head (into which I had cut eyeholes) while I brandished a fencing sword made from a straightened coat hanger and a Dixie cup. I didn’t play Tarzan much, probably for a lack of vines in the immediate area around our house. But no matter how much I pretended, no matter how I thought my costume looked, no matter how well I could use my…coat hanger, it simply did not make me Zorro. I was pretending to be something else.
Children aren’t the only ones who pretend.
We don masks at times to hide who we really are and to present a better image. The reasons are varied. It may be because of shame, or fear, or pride that we attempt to disguise ourselves. We don’t want to let anyone know just what is going on inside, so we take great care to arrange the window-dressing in our storefronts. The mask may insulate us, but it isolates us as well. Sometimes, if you’ve been wearing that mask long enough, you might even begin to fool yourself and think yourself to be much better than you actually are; you might even begin to believe the front you’re showing everyone else. It takes some strong truth to get through the mask.
Jesus confronted some “mask-wearers” of His day with the strong truth:
“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you cleanse the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of extortion and self-indulgence. Blind Pharisee, first cleanse the inside of the cup and dish, that the outside of them may be clean also. Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs which indeed appear beautiful outwardly, but inside are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness. Even so you also outwardly appear righteous to me, but inside you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness” (Matt. 23:25-28).
Jesus uses the word “hypocrite.” This is a term which literally means, “one who wears a mask.” According to Jesus, if the outside doesn’t match the inside, then it is hypocrisy.
Maybe it’s time to stop pretending.
Dustin C. George
Minister to Single Adults
www.sevierheights.org
"Sunshine Station Between the Nations"
His name was John Romulus Brinkley, but he called himself “Doctor.” Attending a school that taught non-traditional medicine and receiving a certificate (valid in only eight states) gave him the supposed right to confer such a title upon himself to lend reputability to his “practice.” He sold his cure-alls via radio show broadcast beamed from a 1000-watt tower in Milford, Kansas. When Kansas pulled his medical “license” and caused him to lose credibility, Brinkley ran for governor as a write-in candidate (his main motivation seems to have been to become governor so that he could reinstate his own medical license). Quickly converting the Milford radio station into the central means of self-promotion for the campaign, Brinkley made blatant comparisons between the way he was being treated and the trial and death of Jesus, and proclaimed his own brand of quack-medicine to be the salvation of the masses. Ultimately, he did not win the governorship though he tried more than once. Upset by his losses, Brinkley moved to the border town of Del Rio, Texas and set up a radio transmission tower across the Rio Grande in Villa Acuna, Mexico. Whereas the United States had a limit upon the wattage of a radio transmitter (50,000 watts), across the border this regulation was not in place. The new station, XERA, operated with an effective wattage of one million watts. Locals said that birds flying near the tower would drop dead, the old dynamo-powered headlamps on trucks in Del Rio would flicker, and barbed-wire fences would hum all over Texas when XERA operated at maximum power. The “X” overrode the transmissions of Atlanta, Chicago, and even some Canadian stations. So powerful was the signal that it is reported that transmissions reached Russia where the organization that was the precursor to the KGB used the broadcasts to give English lessons to the spies-in-training. Brinkley’s messages of bizarre treatments, fortune tellers, and promised restored health helped him to rake in a reported sum of $12 million in five years. Letters and payments came in from every state of the Union as well as from 14 other countries. These letters were written by the hurting in the hope that a quack doctor with a widespread voice sitting on the banks of the Rio Grande could cure what ailed them.
Sometimes we wonder why confusion and uncertainty exists at such a level today. Could it be that we listen to too many voices? Not every voice that speaks of the promise of comfort and peace is the voice of God, no matter how loudly, widespread, promising or authoritative that voice may sound. Messages pound us daily, but we must select the station to which we listen. In the din of multiple voices, all blaring at once (and sometimes contradictory in meaning and purpose) we must make the time and effort so we will not miss hearing the “still, small voice” of God (I Kings 19:12). We must be aware of the false messages that bombard us, but listen to and follow the truth offered from only one source: “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me” (John 10:27).
Dustin C. George
Minister to Single Adults
www.sevierheights.org
Sometimes we wonder why confusion and uncertainty exists at such a level today. Could it be that we listen to too many voices? Not every voice that speaks of the promise of comfort and peace is the voice of God, no matter how loudly, widespread, promising or authoritative that voice may sound. Messages pound us daily, but we must select the station to which we listen. In the din of multiple voices, all blaring at once (and sometimes contradictory in meaning and purpose) we must make the time and effort so we will not miss hearing the “still, small voice” of God (I Kings 19:12). We must be aware of the false messages that bombard us, but listen to and follow the truth offered from only one source: “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me” (John 10:27).
Dustin C. George
Minister to Single Adults
www.sevierheights.org
Who Is In Charge Here?
There’s an old joke about the visiting pastor who is very passionate about his message and is roving about the stage limited only by the reach of the long cord running from his lapel microphone back to the sound system. Waving his arms and shouting loudly, he comes very near to the edge of the stage more than once as the microphone wire pulls taut. A little girl on the front row leans over and asks her mother in a panicked whisper, “What happens if he gets loose?”
We like to keep things safe. As long as everything is within our control, battened down and secure, we can rest easily. When something, or someone, seems outside the reach of our control, we grow worried, disturbed or panicked. There is a necessity for order and structure, but we sometimes think that our personal idea of control holds sway over the entire corner of creation in which we may find ourselves. We like to know what to expect and when we can expect it. And sometimes, if we aren’t careful, we expect God to abide by the rules of our own making and refrain from any surprises.
I read a story recently about a little girl named Amanda in Boulder, Colorado who had received a Bible from her church. One member asked to see it, and she replied, “Okay, but don’t open it.”
When asked the reason why, Amanda said, “You’ll let God out.”
Too many of us worry about what God might do if He “gets loose.” We try our best to keep Him “under control” so He isn’t “let out.” But we are mistaken. He’s still in control…always has been. “He does according to His will in the army of heaven and among the inhabitants of the earth. No one can restrain His hand or say to Him, ‘What have You done?’” (Dan. 4:35b). He does as He desires to accomplish His purpose, and never once has He asked for advice from anyone.
Quit trying to rein in the work of Christ; open yourself to Him with a spirit of surrender and “let Him loose” in your life.
Dustin C. George
Minister to Single Adults
www.sevierheights.org
We like to keep things safe. As long as everything is within our control, battened down and secure, we can rest easily. When something, or someone, seems outside the reach of our control, we grow worried, disturbed or panicked. There is a necessity for order and structure, but we sometimes think that our personal idea of control holds sway over the entire corner of creation in which we may find ourselves. We like to know what to expect and when we can expect it. And sometimes, if we aren’t careful, we expect God to abide by the rules of our own making and refrain from any surprises.
I read a story recently about a little girl named Amanda in Boulder, Colorado who had received a Bible from her church. One member asked to see it, and she replied, “Okay, but don’t open it.”
When asked the reason why, Amanda said, “You’ll let God out.”
Too many of us worry about what God might do if He “gets loose.” We try our best to keep Him “under control” so He isn’t “let out.” But we are mistaken. He’s still in control…always has been. “He does according to His will in the army of heaven and among the inhabitants of the earth. No one can restrain His hand or say to Him, ‘What have You done?’” (Dan. 4:35b). He does as He desires to accomplish His purpose, and never once has He asked for advice from anyone.
Quit trying to rein in the work of Christ; open yourself to Him with a spirit of surrender and “let Him loose” in your life.
Dustin C. George
Minister to Single Adults
www.sevierheights.org
But Wait, There's More!
Whether it’s thick-papered, glossy ads for various products, a truck with rotating billboards along the side, advertisements on the Internet, or my recent discovery of talking razor blade dispensers in some stores (I kid you not), so many products promise to make you become (or at the very least, seem to be) more hip, smarter, of the socially elite, happier, and/or fulfilled. I suppose the question must be asked, “If all this ‘stuff’ can meet our deepest needs, why do we still want more?”
This inability of material possessions, social position or human accomplishments to meet our needs did not arise with the age of pop-up advertising…it has always been so. Years ago, Mick Jagger sang, “I can’t get no satisfaction.” But long before that, around the early third century AD, we find the Roman leader Septimus stating, “I have been everything, and it is nothing.” Back up further, and we find the wisest man in the world writing, “Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on all the labor in which I had toiled; and indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind…” (Ecc. 1:11).
Strange how we pursue objects, titles, and recognition only to have them prove to be dry wells, yet we shake off the disappointment, dust our hands, and chase after another notion seeming to hold promise of satisfaction of our thirst. We try our best to use a human-created means to meet a divinely created desire, yet come up short. The conclusion of Ecclesiastes includes the statement: “Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is man’s all” (12:13b). The longing for something more is not met in what I can become on my own, but in knowing Who He is. The real reason that all the things can never satisfy is simple: they aren’t big enough. Only Christ is.
Dustin C. George
Minister to Single Adults
www.sevierheights.org
This inability of material possessions, social position or human accomplishments to meet our needs did not arise with the age of pop-up advertising…it has always been so. Years ago, Mick Jagger sang, “I can’t get no satisfaction.” But long before that, around the early third century AD, we find the Roman leader Septimus stating, “I have been everything, and it is nothing.” Back up further, and we find the wisest man in the world writing, “Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on all the labor in which I had toiled; and indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind…” (Ecc. 1:11).
Strange how we pursue objects, titles, and recognition only to have them prove to be dry wells, yet we shake off the disappointment, dust our hands, and chase after another notion seeming to hold promise of satisfaction of our thirst. We try our best to use a human-created means to meet a divinely created desire, yet come up short. The conclusion of Ecclesiastes includes the statement: “Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is man’s all” (12:13b). The longing for something more is not met in what I can become on my own, but in knowing Who He is. The real reason that all the things can never satisfy is simple: they aren’t big enough. Only Christ is.
Dustin C. George
Minister to Single Adults
www.sevierheights.org
Those Little Tux-Wearing Birds
One penguin looks at another and says, “It looks like you’re wearing a tuxedo.”
The other penguin says, “Who’s to say that I’m not?”
--- from A Prairie Home Companion
I like that joke, partially because it has to do with penguins. They’re amusing birds in and of themselves. I also like the joke because I’ve attempted to explain the humor in it numerous times to certain people with no real success. But the humor points toward a deeper question, a question that may be funny when applied to a waddling, black and white clad bird, but seems painful when directed toward your own life: Am I hiding my true self?
I read once that we spend most of our lives trying to make our lives safe places. Before I moved to Tennessee, I visited the area with a friend of mine. We sat out on the porch of a cabin in the mountains and talked as the fireflies twinkled. “I think most people are running,” I said. “We run toward or away from something.”
“Not me,” he replied.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not running toward or away from anything. I’m hiding,” he said. “The rest of you can run all you want, I’m hunkered down and hiding out.”
He was making his life a safe place by hiding. And in that hiding, he hid who he really was. “I’ve got it all figured out. I’m at peace. I’m in control. Who’s to say that I’m not?”
We all hide at times. We hide who we are, what we feel, what hurts us. We cover over the fears and doubts. But it only looks like we are “tuxedo wearers.” The reason we take the time to suit up is the same reason that Adam and Eve hid themselves in the Garden of Eden after sinning: fear.
We think, “I can hide who I am. I can escape. I can run away. I’ll ‘hunker down.’ No one needs to know the real me. I’ll lose control if they do. Keep the distance; it’s safer. Maybe I can fool some of them. Maybe even God.” Most certainly, you can fool yourself. All due to the fear of being known.
God’s initial response to the sin of Adam and Eve has always interested me. Adam and Eve sewed coverings of fig leaves to hid their nakedness and they hear “the sound of the LORD God walking in the garden” and “Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the LORD God among the trees” (Gen. 3:8). Then we find that question that tears at one’s heart, “Then the LORD God called to Adam and said to him, ‘Where are you?’” (3:9).
There are those who say that God’s question to Adam and Eve shows that He is not all-knowing. That’s not the case at all. God was asking Adam to be honest. Did God know exactly where Adam was, what he did, and all the consequences of his actions? Absolutely. The question gave Adam the opportunity to be honest about his sin. As the old preacher said, “God didn’t ask because He didn’t know where Adam was. He asked to see if Adam knew where Adam was.”
Maybe you’ve been something you are not. More accurately, maybe you’ve seemed to be something you are not, and you have put a great deal of time and effort into making your life safe by hiding the “real you.” Perhaps you’ve come to the point where you have to let someone know you honestly. Maybe you’ve come to the point where you need to know yourself honestly.
Then again, maybe God has asked you, “Where are you?”
“Here,” you say.
“It looks like you’re wearing a tuxedo,” He replies.
“Who’s to say I’m not?” you retort.
“Me,” He says.
Dustin George
Minister to Single Adults
www.sevierheights.org/ministry/singles
The other penguin says, “Who’s to say that I’m not?”
--- from A Prairie Home Companion
I like that joke, partially because it has to do with penguins. They’re amusing birds in and of themselves. I also like the joke because I’ve attempted to explain the humor in it numerous times to certain people with no real success. But the humor points toward a deeper question, a question that may be funny when applied to a waddling, black and white clad bird, but seems painful when directed toward your own life: Am I hiding my true self?
I read once that we spend most of our lives trying to make our lives safe places. Before I moved to Tennessee, I visited the area with a friend of mine. We sat out on the porch of a cabin in the mountains and talked as the fireflies twinkled. “I think most people are running,” I said. “We run toward or away from something.”
“Not me,” he replied.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not running toward or away from anything. I’m hiding,” he said. “The rest of you can run all you want, I’m hunkered down and hiding out.”
He was making his life a safe place by hiding. And in that hiding, he hid who he really was. “I’ve got it all figured out. I’m at peace. I’m in control. Who’s to say that I’m not?”
We all hide at times. We hide who we are, what we feel, what hurts us. We cover over the fears and doubts. But it only looks like we are “tuxedo wearers.” The reason we take the time to suit up is the same reason that Adam and Eve hid themselves in the Garden of Eden after sinning: fear.
We think, “I can hide who I am. I can escape. I can run away. I’ll ‘hunker down.’ No one needs to know the real me. I’ll lose control if they do. Keep the distance; it’s safer. Maybe I can fool some of them. Maybe even God.” Most certainly, you can fool yourself. All due to the fear of being known.
God’s initial response to the sin of Adam and Eve has always interested me. Adam and Eve sewed coverings of fig leaves to hid their nakedness and they hear “the sound of the LORD God walking in the garden” and “Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the LORD God among the trees” (Gen. 3:8). Then we find that question that tears at one’s heart, “Then the LORD God called to Adam and said to him, ‘Where are you?’” (3:9).
There are those who say that God’s question to Adam and Eve shows that He is not all-knowing. That’s not the case at all. God was asking Adam to be honest. Did God know exactly where Adam was, what he did, and all the consequences of his actions? Absolutely. The question gave Adam the opportunity to be honest about his sin. As the old preacher said, “God didn’t ask because He didn’t know where Adam was. He asked to see if Adam knew where Adam was.”
Maybe you’ve been something you are not. More accurately, maybe you’ve seemed to be something you are not, and you have put a great deal of time and effort into making your life safe by hiding the “real you.” Perhaps you’ve come to the point where you have to let someone know you honestly. Maybe you’ve come to the point where you need to know yourself honestly.
Then again, maybe God has asked you, “Where are you?”
“Here,” you say.
“It looks like you’re wearing a tuxedo,” He replies.
“Who’s to say I’m not?” you retort.
“Me,” He says.
Dustin George
Minister to Single Adults
www.sevierheights.org/ministry/singles
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