Way back in the W.Y. (“Working Years,” for the uninitiated), I went out to lunch with my pastor buddy Steven. We dined at a local burger place and discussed a few of the many mysteries of the pastoring life.
I don’t remember everything we talked about that day, but I am sure that among the things we discussed were such esoteric, theological topics as, “So where do you go to get a really good drummer for the praise band?” and, “Are there really no circumstances in which it is OK to strike a parishioner?”
[Just joshing on that last one…]
I recall that I finished my burger and fries and – since we were still deep in conversation – I went back and ordered the special blackberry cobbler ala mode they were featuring on the menu that day.
It was DELICIOUS!
When I got home that night, Joan asked me, “So… who did you have lunch with today?”
I said, “Steven,” thinking it was a little odd that she knew I had lunch with anyone at all.
She then followed up with, “So I guess you went back and had a little dessert, too!”
I said, “Now hang on a minute! How do you know that? Have you hired a private detective to follow me around all day? I mean, OK… I’m sorry I didn’t bring you any blackberry cobbler, but honestly honey, you’re freaking me out a little here.”
Joan then reminded me that our bank sends her a little “BING!” alert whenever there is a transaction on our jointly held debit card. She saw one swipe for the burger and fries and then a few minutes later, a second, lesser charge.
So then, using her considerable powers of deduction, she was able to piece together the exact steps of my lunchtime behavior.
But I’m not going to lie; the whole thing was a tad unsettling. I mean, I didn’t particularly mind that my wife was alerted every time I used our debit card. After all, I had nothing to hide. The whole thing just sent out a “Big Brother Is Watching!” kind of vibe.
So, in response to her financial vigilance, I resolved to become devious. I decided that every time I wanted to buy something goofy or frivolous, I would use cash, thereby subverting the whole family surveillance system.
“OK, here we go!” I bellowed to the sky. “Blackberry cobbler, morning, noon, and NIGHT!!”
It didn’t take me long for me to realize the futility of the path I had embarked upon. First of all, here I was… actively scheming to deceive my spouse. You know, the one I exchanged sacred vows with 20 years ago. The one with whom I had “become one flesh” (Genesis 2:24, NRSV). The one I had promised to “love, honor, and cherish.”
There is also the small matter that whatever I do… whatever I think… every word I say… is already known anyway. I may be able to hide a blackberry cobbler dessert from Joan by using cash or toss a soft-drink cup onto the road when no one is looking or keep that $5.00 bill that the cashier gave me by mistake, but none of that is secret.
All of that – and so much more – is utterly and completely known.
I am known, head to toe, inside and out, front to back, by The One Who Created Me.
So are you.
And while this revelation might sound like anything BUT good news, it is actually gloriously, ridiculously awesome news.
Because that One who knows us better than we can possibly know ourselves also LOVES us gloriously and ridiculously and unconditionally.
And if that news isn’t worth celebrating with a slice of blackberry cobbler ala mode, I don’t know what is.
Abundant blessings;
I just tried an experiment on Facebook to see what might happen.