I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the “guts” (for lack of a better term) of today’s Christianity after reading Steven Pressfield’s interesting book, The Warrior Ethos. The book is, essentially, an anthology of anecdotes from warrior cultures of old and a brief commentary on the differences between the warrior cultures of, say, Sparta, and our […]
We have a Jungle Gym in our back-yard. Yet, it’s invisible to most. If you entered our back yard, you wouldn’t see it. All you would see is a table and chairs, a few toys and a fallen over rocking chair. It has a way of falling over ever afternoon, because Norah, our 2-year-old, pushes it over so she can use it as her own personal climbing set. At first, we fought it. Norah would climb up into the seat of the chair, stand up, and start rocking–with great risk of falling over. Plus, to us, rocking chairs were for rocking.
Thankfully, one day, it blew over in a wind storm or something, and we saw her climbing on it. She loved it. Now, the rocking chair is hardly upright. It’s not a rocking chair any more. It’s a gym.
I used to feel guilty any time I took a break. I mean anytime. Sometimes I felt like I was wasting time that could have been spent on something more “worthwhile.” Other times I suffered from the “why wasn’t this money taken and given to the poor,” syndrome…though my vacations weren’t necessarily spendy. Getting away for a bit to replenish or spend time with the family was apparently fine for everyone else. Rationally, I knew it was OK for me, too. I just didn’t feel like it was OK.
Some of you know what I’m talking about.