The Undiscovered Country

Shh. Did You Hear That?

No? Me neither. Too much noise.

And it's all of my own making. Between television, radio and social media, I don't hear the birds outside my window in the morning, the wind through the trees and dry grass (we're in the middle of a severe drought), or the crickets at night. I can't remember the last time I sat outside to watch the sunset. Or a sunrise.

Over Independence Day weekend, I read three books in four days. Guess how many I've read since? Not even one. I also haven't read my Bible much, and I can tell my spirit is a bit starved.

Again, it's all of my own making. I've given in to the temptation of current events and politics. Two things that are so fleeting that in the greater scheme of things, they matter almost not at all.

There's a scene in the original “Terminator” when a little boy spooned a scoop of ice cream in Sarah Connor's apron pocket. Her friend saw it and said, “Think of it this way. In a hundred years, who's going to care?”

God, and especially Jesus saw and did (and still do) things with eternity in mind. Does he care that I trip over a crack in the sidewalk or have to wash bird poop out of my hair? It may make both of us laugh, but to spend more than a minute lamenting my misfortune is a true waste of time. So, too, by letting my electronic gadgets take the place of mending and strengthening my relationships - both with God and everyone else in my life.

And doing what God has charged me to do – in whatever way he needs me to. After all, do I glorify him when I allow my attention to remain focused on the unimportant? Do I praise him when I don't immerse myself in his creation, because I'm too busy getting myself all worked up over what everyone else in this world is doing - or not doing? Getting frustrated and angry over things I can't control anyway?

I knew a man named George. He was the original owner of the company I still work for, and in his 80s when I first met him. Even though he no longer owned the company, and was officially retired, he kept an office in our building. I think he enjoyed getting out of the house, as most retirees do, I suppose.

He told me a story once about how he smoked over two packs of cigarettes a day. One day he found himself on his hands and knees looking for a butt of a cigarette to smoke. “I realized at that moment that anything that forces me to my knees is something I don't need.” He never again smoked another cigarette.

I wonder if social media, television, et al is my version of smoking. While not having it isn't physically driving me to my knees, it is putting my brain on its knees in supplication and in some ways stupification. It's an addiction.

Maybe once I get rid of it all, I'll not only hear nature's sounds, but God's voice a little clearer, too. And my spirit will soar instead of crawling on the floor looking for butts.