A Short Rant on Things That Are Bugging Me
The Health Club I work for just started carrying “energy chews.” They taste like a Starburst laced with cheap protein powder. I gagged on one, and then read the ingredients. Along with a few synthetic vitamins, the main ingredients are sugar, corn syrup, caffeine, and wax. Oh, and not just any wax. The same wax they use to polish your car. According to the disgustingly magenta packaging, a little wax goes a long way. The chews promise sustained energy, faster recovery, and greater returns. Really? So basically I can choke down these chews to enhance my workout; or go to Starbucks, grab a latte, and lick my car on the way out. Seriously!
I went to the Christian Book Store (I know my first mistake) to find my kids an Easter gift. Amidst the rosaries and diet plans, I found a prayer shawl. It was white with gold embroidery: both ugly and cheesy at the same time. I almost laughed it off completely until I noticed a small piece of cardboard taped to the back and visible through the cellophane. “The prayer shawl you’ve been praying for,” it read. Really? Is that an attempt at an advertisement, or just a ploy to raise the age-old question of what came first . . . the prayer or the shawl? Seriously!
My family went out to dinner last night at a new Brewery. I rejoiced to find a Tempeh Burger on the otherwise vein-clogging menu . . . until I read the full description. “A delicious Tempeh Burger topped with applewood smoked, thick sliced bacon . . . ” Really? I am not sure which is more obvious: the fact that most tempeh lovers don’t desire bacon, or the fact that most bacon lovers don’t even know what tempeh is. Seriously!
My son’s kindergarten class will be having their Easter party on Thursday. I signed-up to bring the marshmallows. No, they are not playing chubby bunny, they are making “Jesus in the tombs.” Apparently, if you wrap a marshmallow with Pillsbury crescent rolls and then bake them, the marshmallow will “magically” disappear. Really? You have not only created a snack with no nutritional value, but also a life lesson on how Jesus is like a marshmallow who mysteriously disappears when baked. Seriously!
Maybe I should lighten up. But at what point can I stop being one of those people who sees the pretty pink packaging and fills my body with chemicals in hopes of grasping empty promises with empty calories. If the truth of the ingredients are listed, should I not read their content?
When do I stop worrying about what came first, and just start praying. And to admit that if the substance of my prayer is for something to cover my shoulders, then I need way more than a shawl. At what point, can I despise the gimmick and just seek God.
Can I not state the obvious. Must I act like tempeh and bacon are the perfect combo, or can I call foul. All I want is to be honest about what offends my senses.
Can I not be annoyed by the diminishing of my Lord to a marshmallow, the power of His resurrection to a magic trick.
Yes, I can be a ranter, but maybe there is a better way.
When Jesus faced his accusers, I am sure there were many things he could have ranted about. Things that grieved Him, things that were obvious to Him and that others should have understood, I am sure there were gimmicks He longed to replace with relationships, and empty promises He wanted no more than to counter with truth. But Jesus said nothing.
He spoke not a word as He was patronized and mocked, accused and convicted, jeered at and sentenced to death. He could have ranted, instead He redeemed. His only cry? “My God, why have you forsaken me.” The only thing that broke His silence was experiencing separation from God and the weight of His wrath. An experience I will never know.
This is the week that we remember His final days. We solemnly make mention of His trial, mourn the friday that He was nailed to the cross, and celebrate the day that He rose again. It is a week to take inventory and to wonder what effect this great act of sacrifice should have upon our lives.
Today, I want to be quiet. To replace my rants with the depth and height and breadth of His love. A love that kept quiet all the way to the cross.