Posts Tagged: metaphors

“The Muscles of Empathy”

A wise young friend of mine and I were chatting on the phone yesterday.  He was requesting prayer that he would keep his “reservoir of empathy” filled.

What a wonderful metaphor!  A reservoir is deep, and you can draw on it in a time of need.  I’m afraid that, sometimes, my empathy is more of a trickle than a reservoir.  You too?

My friend’s metaphor provoked a metaphor of my own.  I was thinking that maybe empathy is a bit like muscles.  If muscles are not used, they atrophy.  It is the same way with empathy.

But, by the same token, muscles can be strengthened—provided that you challenge them consistently and slowly.  It is the same with empathy.

Too often, whether with physical muscles or empathetic muscles, I want to take shortcuts.  I want the muscles to magically appear right now and with no effort on my part.  But there are no real shortcuts for anything that matters in life.

I need to stretch my empathy muscles a bit—and more than a bit—every single day, many times a day.  I can do this when I’m driving and someone cuts me off or tailgates me.  I can do it when my wife is unreasonable.  (She almost never is, so I won’t be winning any weight-lifting competitions thanks to her.)  I can stretch and develop my empathy when I’m wanting to walk and/or run, but all my little dog wants to do is sniff and be balky.

I have plenty of opportunities to develop my empathy muscles.  There is only one catch: I need to slow down, and take full advantage of those opportunities.

Want to do a little weight-lifting with me today?  Don’t worry!  We’ll start off real slow and easy.

“THE PROPHETS: HARD TO UNDERSTAND, BUT WORTH THE EFFORT”

I am neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet.” (The prophet Amos)

I don’t understand the prophets, but I kinda like them—sometimes.” (Me)

The Old Testament prophets are hard to understand, but worth the effort.  However, they are indeed an effort.  There are several reasons for that.

For one thing, they lived a long time ago.  There are lots of good translations and paraphrases of their writings around these days, and that is helpful.  However, many of the customs and the nuances are hard to wrap our mind around.

For example, in Ezekiel 16:1-6, Ezekiel uses a very ugly and graphic metaphor for his adoption of Israel.  She was like a newborn baby that had been deserted in the desert.  God came by, saw them, and saved their life.

Now this is a very unflattering metaphor for Israel.  Israel was not simply a red-headed stepchild among the nations.  She was an unwanted baby girl who had been exposed to the elements, and left to die.  The fact is that, in the ancient world, babies—especially girls—were frequently thrown into the river or exposed to the elements.  When you realize this, you understand better the prophet’s metaphor.

Another thing that makes the prophets difficult to understand is that they often use metaphors in a kaleidoscopic manner.  They move from one comparison to another so rapidly that even dedicated readers of the Bible can get interpretive vertigo.

But the main thing that makes the prophets difficult to understand is that are only too easy to understand.

What?!

Yes, I said what I meant.  The truths that the Old Testament prophets proclaim are often the last thing that I want to hear.  They call me to purity, to living a life of consistency, to care for others in ways that cost me something, to trust God no matter what.

I don’t know about you, but the main thing that makes people like the Old Testament prophets hard to understand is fear.  I am afraid that I might need to make some difficult changes in my heart, my mind, my life.  And I don’t like changes.

“APPRECIATING NATURE”

I like (and need) to make lists.  One of the lists I frequently make is a gratitude list.  Sometimes, I feel challenged by God to concentrate on specific kinds of things for which I am thankful.  Today, it was nature.  I found it a stretch.  It was difficult for me to come up with fifty specific things from nature for which I am grateful.

This is ironic and disturbing, since I grew up on a farm in southern Ohio and spent most of my time outside.  I loved nature—or at least most of it.  I was never a big snake person.

In fact, I think my dad thought I loved nature a bit too much.  When I was little, I used to pray sometimes before we ate our meals.  My dad said, on at least one occasion, “Our food gets cold while this boy thanks God for the grass and flowers and weeds!”

Guilty as charged, I’m afraid.

So, why has it become so difficult (unnatural?) now to be thankful for natural things?  After doing my thanksgiving list this morning, I wrote in my journal, “Doing these thanksgivings has made me more aware of how unaware I am.  Do I really notice my natural surroundings?  How much do I know about this lovely planet?  How deeply do I cherish it?”

Like all really good questions, these are profoundly unsettling.  And like all good questions, there may be no easy answers.  We need to live with good questions, even when living with them is difficult.

So, here is what I plan to do differently today: I will notice things.  I will ask them questions about how they are doing, and then I will listen for their response.  The question is not, “Can plants, animals, and inanimate objects speak?”  Rather, the question is, “Will I choose to listen?”

Some years ago, Annie Dillard wrote a book titled, Teaching a Stone to Talk.  The title comes from a thirty-year-old man who lived on the same island where Dillard lived at the time.  The man lived by himself with a stone that he was trying to teach to talk.

Crazy?  Maybe, but then again, maybe not.  Jesus spoke of stones talking (Luke 19:40).  “But that was just a metaphor!  Right?”

Maybe.  Sometimes, I think that we call things “just metaphors” whenever they sit uncomfortably with what we think we already know.

Psalm 19:1-2 tells us that “The heavens proclaim the glory of God. The skies display his craftsmanship.  Day after day they continue to speak; night after night they make him known” (New Living Translation).  The Hebrew word which is here translated “continues” is a word which may suggest an uncontrollable gushing forth.

So, join me in staying alert today  Notice nature, even if it’s just that dratted creeping charlie that is taking over your lawn.

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