Little things often suggest bigger truths. For example, . . .
. . . I was doing my gratitude list and threw in a comma before the word “but”. My grammar checker flagged the comma. I was a blend of irritated and curious. What was wrong with putting a comma there? My grammar checker was wrong on this one!
Or so I thought.
I checked with Professor Google. Curiosity triumphed over my irritation. From my first hit, I learned that I should only put a comma before the word “but” when it joins two independent clauses.
Here was my original sentence, edited to preserve the privacy of the one for whom I was grateful”
“_________________ had a bad wreck, but is doing well now (or at least better).”
But then, I said to myself—still irritated and wanting to justify my grammatical self—that these two clauses were independent. In fact, now I was even more irritated.
And then it hit me: No, they were not two independent, stand-alone clauses. There is no subject in the second half of the sentence. Therefore, this clause is not independent. I threw in the little word “he” and my grammar checker’s two blue lines magically disappeared. Poof!
Things wax very ironic here. I am a teacher. I am not just interested in good content when I read my students’ papers. I correct my students’ grammar frequently. One of my major emphases is that every sentence needs to have a subject and a verb. I don’t like subjects that are merely “understood”, yet not expressed. It is too easy to misunderstand when something is (supposedly) understood. And here I was, doing the very thing that I correct in my students’ papers.
So, I not only learned something about grammar. I also learned something about me. I learned—again—that I get irritated (and irritation gets me) by what I think I know but don’t. And why is that? I lack one of the cardinal virtues: humility. And naturally, a lack of humility makes me irritated. It also makes me more judgmental of others. What I think I know but don’t may not be so bad in and of itself. In fact, it probably doesn’t amount to anything. However, it can lead to other bad things like pride, irritation, and judgmentalism. Or rather, what I don’t know but think I know can reveal the pride, irritation, and judgmentalism that are already there.
What a lot of unwelcome insight a little comma can generate!
Fear can be part of love. Fear can also be a form of hate.
I am afraid to displease my wife. That is part of my love for her.
The Bible has a great deal to say about fearing God and respecting others. It also has a great deal to say about loving God and others. In both the Old and New Testaments, a proper fear (or reverence or respect) for God and others is a major theme. So is love. Apparently love and fear—or, at least, a certain type of fear—are not sworn enemies.
On the other hand, according to Proverbs 29:25, “The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the LORD is safe.” (English Standard Version) Apparently, there is a kind of fear that is not a good thing. In fact, I would go so far as to suggest that there is a kind of fear that shades off into hate.
This thought occurred to me today as I was struggling with why I hate new things so much. Of course, I could blame this tendency in me on old age. Why not? Old age ought to be good for something! Why not use it as a scapegoat—especially when you’re an old goat like me!
But here is my problem: Ever since I can remember anything (which is since I was about three years old), I’ve hated new things. When I go to a Mexican restaurant, I order the chimichangas. My wife asks, “Why don’t you order something different?” My usual response is, “Because I know I like the chimichangas. If I ordered something else, I’m afraid that I might not like it.”
Fear.
I don’t like listening to new songs or reading new books or new genres of books. Why? I’m afraid that I might not like them.
Fear.
I don’t like trying to learn new games generally. Why? By now, you know the answer.
Fear!
But in a sense, all this fear is a form of hate. Hate is often just fear that has hardened into a snarling, vicious dog. So, what if my fears cause me to hate new stuff, new attitudes, even (God help me!) new people.
God says, of the new heaven and the new earth, “Behold, I make all things new.” I’m not so sure that I will like new things.
But maybe hell is a place where everything stays the same. And I’m not so sure that I would like that, either.
I would hate to miss out on the new heaven and earth, just because I’m afraid of new things.
We have friends back home who are really into Pickleball. My wife and I now see why. It is great fun and highly addictive!
At the RV resort where we are staying, they have a lot of activities. My wife, who is much more adventurous than I am, signed us up for a Pickleball class. We went, we saw, we were conquered.
The folks who were conducting the class were knowledgeable, patient, funny, and kind. We liked them immediately. It turns out that several of them had been teachers. They still are—and good ones at that.
One of them told us about the three “P’s of Pickleball: Placement, Patience, and Power.” I can’t remember if patience or placement comes first, but I’m certain that power came last.
Of course, I immediately thought to myself, “Well, there’s tomorrow’s blog post!” No matter what I read, here, or experience, my mind goes to life and spirituality.
Where you “place” yourself on the court and where you place your shot is important. It is the same with life. When I get up in the morning, where and how I place myself is crucial to how my day will go. I place myself in the mindset that it is going to be a great day. I place myself in a state of gratitude by making a list of things for which I am grateful. I do my 12-step report to my sponsors, text with another 12-step friend, and do some 12-step readings. I read Scripture and pray. (I also have coffee, which helps with all of the above.)
Patience is crucial to pickleball and life. I am not good at patience. This is, at least in part, a result of the fact that I’ve practiced so little. I’m not very patient with other people and I’m not patient at all with myself. (Hummm . . . I wonder if my impatience with other people is one of the bitter fruits of my self-impatience?) I expect myself to do things that I simply can’t do—go back and change mistakes I made in the past, be really good at things (like Pickleball) right away, and generally be better than I am right now.
Of course, both patience and impatience are the fruit of frustration. And who wants to be frustrated? In fact, it goes even beyond frustration. The Apostle Paul said that “tribulation brings about patient” (Romans 5:3). And who wants that! Someone said years ago, “I prayed for patience and God sent tribulation.” Yep! I am afraid that’s the way it works!
And then there is power. Most of us don’t have enough. At least we don’t think that we have enough power. I was never powerful, even when I was young. Growing up on the farm, I always threw the bales of hay up on the wagon or into the barn more by adrenaline than by strength. I will soon be seventy, and I can testify that my power is not getting more powerful.
However, power is the third and least important of the three “P’s” in pickleball. And I do have some power. So do you. So do we all. Am I, are you, properly using the power we’re given? My 12-step sponsor never tires of reminding me to “just keep doing the next right thing.” I never get tired of hearing it, either. It’s a good reminder and very necessary. Doing the next right thing is the best way to use power.
And, of course, there is God. Where does he come into all this? Let me suggest that God is the Greatest Pickleball Player ever. He is God with us. In fact, this is an important fourth “P”. God is present with us. That is God’s placement. This God who is present is very patient with us, not destroying us for our many stupidities and wrong-doings. And God is present and incredibly powerful. And he waits to empower each of us.
DTEB, “A Happy Little Zing in My Brain”
“. . . the joy of the LORD is your strength.” (Nehemiah 8:10)
“the fruit of the Spirit is . . . joy . . . .” (Galatians 5:22)
“9 As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. 10 If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. 11 These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.” (John 15:9-11, Jesus is speaking to his disciples, just before his arrest and execution.)
Concerning a tiny habit that he was trying to refine, B.J. Fogg says, “When I did it the first time, I got a happy little zing in my brain that told me that I had hit the right spot.”[1]
We need to pay attention to those happy little zings. They may be a sip—or at least the scent—of a heady wine called the joy of the LORD.
Both the Old and New Testaments speak of this joy. This is a secret that is too little known about faith in God. I don’t know the secret well myself, but I am happy to blab about it anyway. The secret is this: There is a joy that comes from trusting and obeying the LORD. There is a joy that comes from knowing the God loves me just as I am. And believe you me, God knows me just as I am! And it isn’t always pretty. But God goes right on loving anyway.
As I live in God’s love and as I love God and people in response to God’s love for me, I feel those happy little zings in my brain. Being loved and loving is not always easy. The zings come only when I actually do something. And the truth is that I am sometimes incredibly lazy—even when things are easy. And, of course, doing the next right thing is not always the easiest thing to do. In fact, sometimes it is incredibly hard.
But then, there are those brain-zings. And I do like those!
I wish for you a zingy day!
[1] B.J. Fogg, Tiny Habits: The Small Changes that Change Everything (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin, Harcourt, 2020).
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