Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Hating and Loving
Tonight I met with some of my small group cats as is our custom on Wednesday nights. I haven't been there for a couple of weeks due to some travel obligations but was fortunate enough to make it tonight. A couple of weeks ago one of the guys busted out what has become to me an epiphany of sorts. We are on the topic of temptation as we are following a video series dealing with it and it was said that hating [our] sin will not make me grow closer to Jesus, but loving God will cause me to hate [our] sin all the more. Maybe that should be intuitive but it was, to me, an important discussion that has altered forever (hopefully) my perspective of sin, grace and redemption.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Some time ago a storm blew through town and attempted to take our trampoline with it as it left. Fortunately it did not make it past midway through our next-door neighbor's yard. It did; however, set it down very hard in said yard. Hard enough to twist the ring and bend some of the supporting structures. On Friday my son and a couple of neighbor kids took it apart and piled it up on the patio. Not wanting to pitch the metal in the trash a couple of pieces at a time all summer, i decided to sell it at a local dealer the next day.
I took my place in a long line of guys with apparent similiar intent at the scrap yard. Somehow I thought that I would be the only guy down there. I also thought that somehow it would take some persuasion on my part to get these guys to take this stuff off of my hands so on the way I rehearsed what I would say when I got there.
I was wrong in two ways: first, I was not the only guy down there hawking this crap and secondly, I seriously underestimated the market for scrap metals in my area.
That trip to the scrap metal yard affected me in an odd way.
It was this whole subculture with rules and protocols that everyone (but me) seemed to know intuitively and it was a rough place. Ahead and to the right of me were two guys transferring small TV sets and old microwave ovens and other assorted junk from the trunk of one car to another.One of the men was old and the other mid-50s . Neither car looked like it would run under its own power and the appearance of the two men paralled that of the cars. It seemed to me that they were regulars.
They weighed my truck on the way in and out and gave me a slip of paper with a description of my steel and its value in cash. Twelve dollars and sixty cents. Inside were mountains of scrap metal, cars, appliances and everything else you can think of that was made from metal. As I was unloading my trampoline i began to reflect on the fun that was had on it and what would become of it now and what would become of the mountains of crap surrounding me. What purpose did it have originally? Who owned it? Where did they live? Are they still alive? What is my real purpose? What will my life look like to others when I'm gone? Will there be a lasting impact on those around me or will my life be so much scrap metal to be discarded and made into who-knows-what?
I hope it will be worth more than the equivalent of 12.60.
I took my place in a long line of guys with apparent similiar intent at the scrap yard. Somehow I thought that I would be the only guy down there. I also thought that somehow it would take some persuasion on my part to get these guys to take this stuff off of my hands so on the way I rehearsed what I would say when I got there.
I was wrong in two ways: first, I was not the only guy down there hawking this crap and secondly, I seriously underestimated the market for scrap metals in my area.
That trip to the scrap metal yard affected me in an odd way.
It was this whole subculture with rules and protocols that everyone (but me) seemed to know intuitively and it was a rough place. Ahead and to the right of me were two guys transferring small TV sets and old microwave ovens and other assorted junk from the trunk of one car to another.One of the men was old and the other mid-50s . Neither car looked like it would run under its own power and the appearance of the two men paralled that of the cars. It seemed to me that they were regulars.
They weighed my truck on the way in and out and gave me a slip of paper with a description of my steel and its value in cash. Twelve dollars and sixty cents. Inside were mountains of scrap metal, cars, appliances and everything else you can think of that was made from metal. As I was unloading my trampoline i began to reflect on the fun that was had on it and what would become of it now and what would become of the mountains of crap surrounding me. What purpose did it have originally? Who owned it? Where did they live? Are they still alive? What is my real purpose? What will my life look like to others when I'm gone? Will there be a lasting impact on those around me or will my life be so much scrap metal to be discarded and made into who-knows-what?
I hope it will be worth more than the equivalent of 12.60.
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