Monday, November 03, 2008
Sometimes you just gotta say "What the f?! Make your move."
Like my niece Bug here. She went as a Rocker Chick for half of Halloween. (the other half was Pocahontas.)
That's what I'm feeling like saying to God these days. "What the f?! Make your move."
We’re going OT at church, studying the life of Joseph. One of those classic tales that’re scrubbed squeaky clean for you as kids, and then you get the real version when you’re older.
Joseph’s story gets so suffocatingly earnest, because Joseph doesn’t do anything wrong. Sure, maybe he starts off as either naïve or a snotty brat as a kid, but as soon as he’s sold into Potiphar’s service, he’s blameless for practically the rest of his life (his tricks on his brothers later notwithstanding.)
Joseph’s tempted by Potiphar’s wife, but you never get the sense, no matter how the story’s told to you, that it was the least bit hard for Joseph to say no. Half the time it’s because Potiphar’s wife is illustrated as so comically evil, anyone would turn her down.
But I think this is why I prefer David’s story. Because he did give in. He did bad, he was punished, destroyed, still redeemed. I need my heroes to be flawed in order to identify with them.
I need to know they struggled. I need to know it was f’ing difficult for them. I need to know it hurt. You know Jesus hurt. You know David was destroyed when he realized the magnitude of what his actions reaped. And Joseph...well Joseph’s Joseph. Standing like an obnoxious superhero beacon of purity No thank you, evil Potiphar’s wife! I run my master’s house, and the staff and turn you down and leap buildings in a single bound!
Even when he’s thrown in jail, you don’t get a sense of inner turmoil. You get “The Lord was with Joseph and gave him success in whatever he did.”
But very technically, the Lord’s with all of us, but I still struggle.
I had a conversation with some of the girls in my small group a few weeks back, and I raised the point that it’s only in the modern romantic arena where apathy counts as obedience to God. Sigh.
My world feels strangely dull these days. No temptations anywhere. The struggle is the struggle against numbness. The hilarious part is that I’m busy as ever. This is either the calm before a huge storm of potential success, or it’s the calm before a desert of failure.
Which is why I find myself cocking my chin at God and saying “What the F? Make your move.”
Which means I’ve doomed myself. Tonight, I’m going to get in a car wreck and lose both my hands so I’ll have to get one of those voice to type things, or peck the keyboard with my nose or something. Great.
Posted by Amy The Writer at 3:36 PM