Don’t you love it when someone anticipates your needs?
You feel good when someone makes provision for something you’ll require before the need even arises. Or when they start setting in motion something for you before you even ask.
It makes you feel sort of special, doesn’t it?
As a teen, I’d occasionally stop by a small fish-and-chip joint on my way home from school. This little restaurant had an open kitchen, and the owner/cook could see the street through the front window.
Carlo, the owner, would see me get off the bus and wait at the lights. He knew what I liked to eat, so he’d start deep-frying my halibut before I even crossed the street and entered his restaurant.
He anticipated what I’d want and started cooking it before I even placed my order.
When it comes to chocolate, I would say an unequivocal no.
What about when it comes to having assistance in the kitchen? Surely you can’t go wrong having an abundance of help when you’re cooking?
You would think not, wouldn’t you?
But there’s a limit to how many “sous-chefs” you should have.
You’ve probably heard the phrase, “too many cooks spoil the broth.” This idiom can be literally true. One person might decide the soup needs more salt, so liberally adds more. The next helper might think the soup is too salty, so dilutes it to compensate.
Some might figure the soup needs more onion; others think it’s too spicy. Each tries to correct the perceived mistakes of the others until you end up with an inedible mess.
Sometimes we need to be judicious about who we listen to.
There are some key examples in Scripture which teach us that too many “cooks” or advisors can confuse and divide us.
Did you hear about the guy who traded a paperclip for a house?
It’s a little more involved than that, but it really happened.
Over the course of a year starting in 2005, Canadian Kyle MacDonald made a series of 14 online trades, bartering small items for successively larger and more valuable ones.
He started with a red paperclip, which he traded for a pen. He swapped the pen for a doorknob, which he then bartered for a Coleman stove.
The stove was flipped for a generator, which was exchanged for an instant party, which he soon traded for a snowmobile.
Kyle’s next transactions involved a trip, a truck, a recording contract, and a year’s rent in Phoenix. They eventually culminated in a film role, which was traded for a two-storey farmhouse in Kipling, Saskatchewan.
Don’t you wish there was a style of clothing you could wear that would always be in fashion?
Think of it: You’d never have to worry about being caught wearing last year’s fashions. You’d never accidentally make a fashion faux-pas. Your clothes would always be in style.
Perhaps this is a notion that preoccupies women more than men. Men seem to be a bit luckier in the fashion department: styles of suits don’t evolve very rapidly over time, and they always look becoming.
Women, on the other hand, have had to put up with fashions that have changed drastically over the years and decades. Our foremothers had to endure corsets, hoop skirts, and bustles. Perhaps some of you are old enough to recall leg warmers, tie dye and jumpsuits.
Some styles inexplicably come back into fashion for a time, like bell-bottom jeans or platform shoes.
Let’s hope that some never do: women once wore skirts so wide that they had to turn sideways to get through a door!
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to put on a style that would never go out of fashion?
As a matter of fact, there is such an item of “clothing.”
Have you ever brought preconceived notions to a new situation, but then realized they simply don’t apply anymore?
I did something of the sort when visiting Southern California as a teen.
Growing up in Central Canada, I was used to street numbers being put on the actual houses themselves, at eye-level. But when I stayed in San Diego for a time, I noticed that the street numbers were instead spray-painted on the vertical parts of the curb at the foot of people’s driveways, just a few inches above the pavement.
That made no sense, I thought to myself. In winter, those numbers on the curb will be covered under several feet of snow, and no one will be able to read them. How silly!
I soon realized that my line of thinking was faulty: it doesn’t snow inSan Diego. The numbers on the curb will always be readable. What was true for Toronto had no bearing on what was true for San Diego.
I needed to realize that I was “not in Kansas anymore,” as Dorothy said in the film, “The Wizard of Oz.”
I think we sometimes make the same mistake when we think about the Kingdom of God.
We superimpose our past experiences and assumptions on it, but we don’t realize that with the Kingdom of God we’re in a whole new world. The old rules don’t apply anymore.
If something doesn’t fit your idea of a garden, is it still a garden?
I must confess to having trouble warming up to Japanese gardens. They often feature distinctive elements such as conifers and moss, gravel raked to suggest waves in water, stone lanterns or water basins, and perhaps a bridge.
But to me, a garden isn’t really a garden unless its primary focus is an abundance of colourful flowers.
So are Japanese gardens still gardens? Very much so!
They still celebrate nature, even if some elements are suggested rather than incorporated literally. They still reflect the beauty that God has placed on this Earth. They still have the essentials down pat.
I guess I need to expand my idea of what a garden is.
We shouldn’t look askance at the way others have created their gardens. God smiles on them all.
Perhaps this is a lesson we can apply to the Christian life, too.