I know you can do anything;
no plan of yours can be opposed successfully. Job 42:2
The other night Kay and I were watching Agents of Shield. Now that season 3 has come out on Netflix, we have all sorts of Marvel Comics adventure-drama to look forward to. We’re a comics kind of family, but we only do streaming video so we had to wait.
In the 60s, I watched the original Star Trek series with my dad. I also watched the original Batman series. And, though I don’t like to admit it, we took Jay to see the 1989 movie when he was but 2-years-old. (Yeah, I was too slack on that one.)
I guess all my life, I’ve been under the influence of larger-than-life characters. And there have been so many to choose from. I get the whole thing about the impossibility of anyone solving the problems of the world in 90 minutes or a pair of hours – although Lord of the Rings does a better than average job in a dozen hours. Yet, I feel hopeful somehow when I watch anyone taking on big problems. Empowered even (sometimes).
Anyway, we were watching the show. I don’t remember now what was happening, but it came to me. An epiphany! Even superheroes don’t get it perfect. Even they can’t solve everything. Why do I expect to?
Okay, it’s not really an epiphany. After all, I just made reference to it up above. But it did come to me rather forcefully as I was sitting there mindlessly relaxing. It was like that lightbulb-over-the-head thing. And I did need the reminder. I regularly need it.
Lately, I’ve been struggling with how little success my varied efforts have had. My mother buys honeysuckle and doesn’t know if it’s the kind that’s a pernicious weed. My sister's inherited one when they bought their house that's more of a “tree” than a vine. My brother uses RoundUp “like water” (to quote another family member) even though it’s a proven neurotoxin along with a host of other nasty things.
Or, to use a churcy-y example, I encourage people to try a study – some are only session long – or to work for an hour or two at a community garden or a homeless shelter, but sometimes I wonder if they avoid me so they don't have to say "no" again.
I could despair, if I didn’t practice not taking it personally!
Still I think of the young man who showed up for a session of The Wired Word on Thursday. Or the seven people who joined me at a local establishment overlooking the Fox River for some conversation about hatred on Wednesday. I remember years ago when my mother first got a compost bin. She and my brother puzzled over whether they could put eggshells in it (well-rinsed, so as not to draw skunks and such). My brother volunteered, “If Jayneann does it [which he knew I did] then it must be okay.” That still makes me smile.
No, I can’t solve the problems of the world. Neither can you. We may seem to have few successes. That's okay. As long as we do our part, we can take comfort that God can do a whole lot with even our small efforts.
In the 60s, I watched the original Star Trek series with my dad. I also watched the original Batman series. And, though I don’t like to admit it, we took Jay to see the 1989 movie when he was but 2-years-old. (Yeah, I was too slack on that one.)
I guess all my life, I’ve been under the influence of larger-than-life characters. And there have been so many to choose from. I get the whole thing about the impossibility of anyone solving the problems of the world in 90 minutes or a pair of hours – although Lord of the Rings does a better than average job in a dozen hours. Yet, I feel hopeful somehow when I watch anyone taking on big problems. Empowered even (sometimes).
Anyway, we were watching the show. I don’t remember now what was happening, but it came to me. An epiphany! Even superheroes don’t get it perfect. Even they can’t solve everything. Why do I expect to?
Okay, it’s not really an epiphany. After all, I just made reference to it up above. But it did come to me rather forcefully as I was sitting there mindlessly relaxing. It was like that lightbulb-over-the-head thing. And I did need the reminder. I regularly need it.
Lately, I’ve been struggling with how little success my varied efforts have had. My mother buys honeysuckle and doesn’t know if it’s the kind that’s a pernicious weed. My sister's inherited one when they bought their house that's more of a “tree” than a vine. My brother uses RoundUp “like water” (to quote another family member) even though it’s a proven neurotoxin along with a host of other nasty things.
Or, to use a churcy-y example, I encourage people to try a study – some are only session long – or to work for an hour or two at a community garden or a homeless shelter, but sometimes I wonder if they avoid me so they don't have to say "no" again.
I could despair, if I didn’t practice not taking it personally!
Still I think of the young man who showed up for a session of The Wired Word on Thursday. Or the seven people who joined me at a local establishment overlooking the Fox River for some conversation about hatred on Wednesday. I remember years ago when my mother first got a compost bin. She and my brother puzzled over whether they could put eggshells in it (well-rinsed, so as not to draw skunks and such). My brother volunteered, “If Jayneann does it [which he knew I did] then it must be okay.” That still makes me smile.
No, I can’t solve the problems of the world. Neither can you. We may seem to have few successes. That's okay. As long as we do our part, we can take comfort that God can do a whole lot with even our small efforts.
Jesus looked at them carefully and said, “It’s impossible for human beings.
But all things are possible for God.” Matthew 19:26
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