When I teach my weapons classes and do book signings, I often go in full kilt (and character). My Renaissance faire boots look awesome, but they really difficult to put on and take off. It takes as much as 10 minutes to put them on right. Taking them off is a pain as well. I can remember more than one occasion when I realized (after I got my boots on) that I had a really tiny pebble in my boot or an uncomfortable fold in one of my socks. When that would happen, I would hold a Gollum/Smeagol-like debate with myself as to how far I was willing to walk with that irritant in my boot. Because I really didn’t want to have to take my boot off, remove the pebble or adjust my sock, and put the boot back on. So, often I would convince myself everything was all right.
Our foot—it hurtsss, my Precioussss!
It’s not that bad! We can walk on it!
But our foot already hurtssss! It’s ba-a-a-ad!
We’re going to be late as it isss, Precioussss. And we hates to be late, don’t we? Gollum! Gollum!
But we’ll have to walk around on the nasssty, uneven fairgrounds, carrying sssswordsesss and ssspearsesss and axessss, oh, my! And booksesss too, Precioussss!
We won’t have to walk so far. No, we won’t, Precious.
Take it off us! Take it off us! It hurts!
We’ll do it later. Later, Preciousssss.
No, we won’t. It’ll just go on hurting and hurting.
Later. La-a-a-a-ater.
Years ago, I listened with fascination as a friend of mine (who is not of my faith) described the process she and her fellow parishioners were going through in finding a new priest for their church. (There old priest had retired.) They (the selection board) interviewed each candidate, and those they liked got a tryout, a chance to conduct services and preach sermons on a Sunday. This priest had to do three services on their tryout Sunday, each one with a different style of worship: high, middle, and low. Each Sunday, the priest would be expected to preach to three groups of people in the way the hearers felt most comfortable. Some people were uncomfortable with the “high” form of worship and wanted a more casual experience. While I thought that was fascinating, what struck the me the most was when my friend described the interview process. They (the selection board) listed a bunch of topics that they didn’t want to hear preached about in church, then they would ask the candidate priest if he or she were okay with avoiding such uncomfortable topics. If the candidate said, “Well, the scripture says <something-different>,” that candidate was done. The board only wanted to hear what they wanted to hear. They did not want to be called to repentance, they only wanted to go to church to feel good. After all, that’s what kept butts in the pews and put donations in the plate.
As an aside note, I notice we tend to do the same thing with our politicians. We vote for the guy or gal who tells us what we want to hear. We will do almost anything—twist our logic and our principles into rancid pretzels with road-apple nuggets if necessary—to justify voting for someone who has the right letter after their name or who promises us what we want. I’ve actually heard people say, “So he had an affair with a porn star while he was married. But he’s such a good family man,” and “He only raped the one woman, and who believes her anyway?” I honestly don’t know how you say things like that with a straight face and without puking into your mouth just a little.
But I digress.
This morning, I had a technical issue on my company-issued work laptop—my work installation of Microsoft Office 365 (Outlook, Word, Excel, etc.) notified me that my copy of Office was “not activated,” meaning that my copy was not legal to use anymore. I contacted the IT help desk and logged a help ticket. They responded fairly quickly, but the news I got was not what I wanted to hear. I learned that my employer’s licensing agreement with Microsoft had changed, and we were now supposed to use the internet (browser-based) version of Office instead of the version already installed on our work computers. I was directed to change how I accessed email, calendar, documents, etc. I took a quick look at the internet version. Almost immediately, I decided I didn’t like it. To be perfectly honest, I had decided that before I tried it out. But, hey, I did give it a try.
So, I messaged my supervisor and asked when the licensing had changed and if it were possible to get reactivated and keep on using the version I prefer. He said to try the internet version out, and if I had a legitimate reason to go on using the version I prefer, he was sure it could be arranged to purchase me a license. Well, I immediately went looking for a reason! I found several. Well, a few. Well, perhaps one thing that really annoyed me. But that one thing—that one little thing—oh, boy, did it annoy me! Surely that was reason enough to get the company to spend a paltry $100 a year to make my life a wee bit more convenient.
I messaged my supervisor back and told him about my gripe.
And as soon as I had hit enter and sent the message, I immediately regretted it. What was the big deal, really? Why was I so unwilling to make a personal adjustment? Sure, in the grand scheme of things, a $100/year might not be that much of an expense, but what if it wasn’t just me? What if it were 10 employees or 100 that felt the same way I did? If it were 100 employees, that’s $10,000 per year that the company shouldn’t have to spend to keep curmudgeons like me happy. (And if it were just me, why should I make the company pay the extra $100 anyway?)
And truly, if I got to continue as I was, would that really make me happy?
So, I quickly messaged him again and said, “I will figure it out.”
And with a little trying, I figured out a way to do what I needed/wanted to do. And just like that, my problem was solved.
Hey! I just saved the company $100. Do I get a finder’s fee? I believe 10% is customary… What a windfall! Just how am I going spend that whole $10? I could buy 4 whole gallons of gas! Maybe. I better check the price…
During my personal scripture study this morning, this passage from Ezekiel really caught my attention:
Son of man, prophesy against the prophets of Israel that prophesy, and say thou unto them that prophesy out of their own hearts, Hear ye the word of the Lord; Thus saith the Lord God; Woe unto the foolish prophets, that follow their own spirit, and have seen nothing! (Ezekiel 13:2-3, emphasis added)
In ancient Judah, some “prophets” told the people what they wanted to hear. In Ezekiel’s day, a large part of the nation of Judah had already been carried away captive into Babylon. Ezekiel was part of that group. Some “prophets” were telling the people that God was gonna kick the Babylonians’ butts and Judah would be triumphant, that they would all get to go home soon. That was what the exiled Jews wanted to hear.
Ezekiel, on the other hand, was prophesying that Jerusalem would soon be under siege and thereafter, it would be utterly destroyed, including the temple. He was prophesying that the Jews had brought all their own misery upon themselves, because they had not repented, they had not changed. He was definitely not telling his fellow exiled Jews what they wanted to hear.
As I read this passage, I thought to myself, I had been “prophesying out of my own heart.” I didn’t want to hear what I should be doing or how I needed to change. I wanted to hear what I wanted to hear. So, I had gone looking for things to fit what I wanted—to find facts to fit the narrative.
Religion—true religion—isn’t supposed to make me comfortable. It’s supposed to help me to grow, to become more like my Father in Heaven and my Savior, to help me to be a better husband, father, son, grandfather, and man. It’s supposed to call me to repentance. I can’t grow without change. How far am I willing to walk on the tiny pebble in my boot, before I stop and take it out?
I don’t go to church to feel good. I go to church to become better.
Excuse me—I have a pebble in my awesome boot, and I’ll be a lot more comfortable when it’s out.
And it will only take me about 15 minutes…
No, it won’t! It’ll take too long, Preciousss!
Shut up, Gollum.
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