4 November

On the Journey

                                                        Foolishness—A Gift of Grace?

              Life has a way of making you look foolish so you won’t take yourself too seriously. Around my office on Monday, a crisis emerged. I lost the cap to my pen. Normally this would not be a big deal, but I bought this pen last November and paid $40.00 for it. Don’t misunderstand me, it is not the price I paid for it that makes the pen valuable. No. The value of this pen is that I have not lost it in 12 months. I am pretty proud of that fact!

              The crisis arose unexpectedly. I was in my office, at my desk, sitting in my chair. Yes, I did have my feet up, and I was reclining more than sitting. My trusty pen was in my hand as I poured over the financial information for the month of October. I distinctly remember the cap of my pen coming off. It slid down the front of my shirt, rolled off the pocket of my pants, and rested itself against my hip in the seat of my chair. I know this because I saw it happening, and I felt it happen.

              Yet, to my surprise, when I got up to go to a meeting, the cap of my pen was not in my chair. I assumed it had fallen on the floor. Soon I was down on my hands and knees searching under my desk, around the clutter, and through the wastebasket. The cap to my pen had disappeared!

              I called Jennifer and enlisted her help in my search. Taking different positions around my desk, she sought a different perspective from which to recover my lost treasure. We could not find the cap. With her usual confidence, she sent me on to my meeting assuring me that she would find it while I was gone.

              After my meeting, I returned to my office believing with all my heart that the cap of my pen would be there. After all, Jennifer had assured me she could find it! Yet, there was nothing.

              Tuesday morning arrives and my cap is still missing. I am puzzled. I ask myself, “How in the world does the cap of a pen vanish into thin air?” Since I was the first to arrive at the office, I still hold out faint hope that Jennifer has found my pen cap. I think I will graciously accept whatever chiding comes my way if she has it.

              When Jennifer arrives, I discover that she had enlisted Nancy in the search on Monday afternoon. They searched high and low; even broke a thing or two, but they came up empty.

              By now, I am really frustrated. Like the woman in the story of the lost coin, I am ready to pull everything out of my office until I find it. I keep running a replay of the event through my mind. I can feel the pen cap come off. My body experiences the sliding motion that occurred as the cap slid down my chest. My hip feels the impression of the pen pressed against it by the seat of my chair. I jump up. Grab the wastebasket. Make one more frantic search. The cap, I determine, has fallen down inside of something. Despite my search, no cap emerges from the clutter about my desk.

              About mid-morning, Chris Operle, our custodian, enters my office to declare that she has found something. There, shining brilliantly in her hand is my black pen cap. I ask, “Where did you find it?” She answers, “In the bathroom.” I could feel my face turning  different shades of red. I manage to laugh at myself, but my mind and body rebel against such an answer.

              My eyes become immediately defensive. They assure me that they did see the pen cap slide down the front of my shirt. My body tells me that my tactile function is normal, and I still have the imprint of my pen cap on my hip. My brain refuses to accept that the pen cap could have possibly been in the bathroom. Finally, all my defenses are broken. I now feel foolish and betrayed by my eyes, body, and brain. Yes, life has a way of making you feel foolish so you won’t take yourself too seriously.

              Now, I have no doubt, there is a lesson in the midst of all of this. For the foolishness of this event inspired me to ponder all the other times I perhaps thought I was unmistakably right when I was dead wrong. How many times, I wondered, have my eyes, body, and brain deceived me?  How could I remember something in such detail that was totally false? My pen cap fell off in the bathroom and not in my office.

              If I could be so wrong about a physical object like a pen cap, how often have I been wrong about something as complex and confusing as another human being? How often have I been convinced that someone has been unfair, or rude, or disrespectful to me when really nothing of the sort was happening? How many times have I gotten angry about something that was really nothing? Today, I am grateful that life has a way of making you feel foolish to help you recognize how wrong you can be—about things that don’t really matter and some things that are truly significant.

              Now this experience with foolishness has made me take something Jesus said more seriously. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said, “The eye is the lamp of the body. So if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light; but if your eye is unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!” My physical eyes sure fooled me Monday with my pen cap. I wonder how well my spiritual eyes are functioning.

              On this Wednesday I am praying , “Lord, for the sake of my soul, deliver me into a moment when I feel foolish, so I may repent and change my ways.” I never thought I would pray a prayer like that! Yet, for the sake of my salvation, I will embrace anyone who reveals my foolishness as a true prophet of God. How could I have been so wrong about something that was so real to me? No wonder Jesus tells me to be vigilant and to keep watch. I have to trust Jesus, because I learned this week—I can’t always trust myself. Is it possible that foolishness is a gift of grace?jamie