What did I tell you? (We don't know, what?) I told you after I finished with the semester I would post more regularly! (This is one post, Steve.) Don't patronize me, reader! (In fairness, there are seven of us...)
I am in Roanoke, VA for part of the holidays (which means something between "November and December" and "Christmas Eve to New Year's day" depending on who you ask) staying at my parents house. Every year my mom makes a delicious party mix that has become the stuff of legend. It isn't anything fancy, but it hits the spot and I look forward to it whenever I'm here for Christmas.
Yesterday I was stuffing my face in the kitchen and I dropped a cheerio (my third favorite of five components in the mix) on the floor. Were the fallen morsel a Rice Chex my gut reaction might have been to pick it up, blow on it and eat it. The cheerio elicited a ho-hum reaction however, and my instinct was to kick it under the dishwasher.
At this point you have been confronted with my overwhelming laziness. Just as I pulled my leg back to kick I thought "is bending over and throwing it away THAT much harder?" Of course the answer was "no." It startled me to realize that my instinctual reaction was born completely of laziness. And that laziness is born completely of selfishness. I was not considering my parents who have to deal with the potential pitfalls of discarded food (pests) in any way. Nor did I consider God, who surely would have included some anti-Chex mix kicking proviso if the Bible were penned today. I decided that wasn't the type of person I really wanted to be and picked up the cheerio.
This simple act - pausing to consider why we are about to do something - can really transform a soul if done with discipline and intentionality over time. I will write in more detail about this concept later, but soulishly we reap what we sow. If we sow selfishness we reap laziness and ultimately destruction. If we sow concern we reap deeper relationships. If we sow spiritual discipline we reap spiritual depth. Try not to leave your brain (or soul!) on autopilot over the holidays...or ever.
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