Drop Your Tools and Retreat

I heard an account recently of the two worst forest fires in American history. They were described as “the worst” partly because of their scale and enormity, but mostly because of the unusually high number of fire fighter casualties that occurred.

 

In subsequent months, there was an investigation and research done into the cause of the high number of deaths. They discovered something very curious. At a critical point in the fire, the command was issued: “Drop your tools and retreat.” Apparently, this was a standard procedure that was only employed in very rare cases of uncontrollable fire. It was at this point where the majority of fire fighters lost their lives. Researches discovered that there were four main reasons why this critical command was not heeded to tragic results.

1. Poor reception of communication. The fire, at its height, was incredibly loud and made it difficult for some fighters to hear the command coming over their radios; and because this command was rarely issued, the fire fighters didn't assume that's what they heard through the static.

2. Poor practice of standard procedure. Some fire fighters conceivably heard the command, but hadn't practised that procedure since it was so rarely used; they chose to stick with what they knew - fighting fires – over what they were unfamiliar with - retreating - and lost their lives as a result.

3. Poor trust. A number of the crews were operating under new commanders who had held that position for three months or less. They hadn't been together long enough to develop a trusting relationship and were hesitant to believe or follow the instructions of their new leader.

4. Poor judgement. And then there were some others. They heard the command, they had practised that procedure, they were following seasoned leaders. These were fire fighters who had either been at their job for so long or were so committed to being defined as “fire fighter” that they chose rather to be dead heroes than live “cowards” who retreated in the face of fierce fire. An “over my dead body will I retreat” kind of attitude.

The presenter* who related this account used this story as an analogy as to why people tend to be resistant to change – even good change. He said either the reasons for change aren't understood, or people are afraid of change so they stick with what they know, they don't trust the instigator of change, or they've tied their identity too closely to the way they are currently doing things so that change of any sort is an affront to their personhood.

Ah, change. Lovely, lovely change. When I look at my life, I can see all four types of resistance to change:

I'm not quite sure I really am supposed to make this change – it doesn't make much sense.

I am afraid; I may not be the happiest person right where I am, but at least what I'm doing is familiar. Change is scary. I think I'll just stick with what I know.

This is just who I am and the way I've chosen to be; I don't want to change, or I think I can't change because I don't know any other way.

But it's that third reason that's giving me pause for thought. Who is my leader? Who's giving me the commands? Am I even listening to my leader? And do I trust enough to obey?

If I claim that it is God whom I follow, have I put in the effort to develop a trusting relationship? Have I practised the “standard procedures” outlined for me in God's handbook so that I'm comfortable obeying the rare and unusual commands God may issue? If I look back over our relationship, has God proven trustworthy? Have I got my radio tuned into God's frequency?

It makes me think of Abraham, sitting there nice and comfortable in Haran, wealthy, stable, secure, family all around. What more could a person want in life? Then God issues the command: Drop your tools and retreat. Except God doesn't bother telling him where to retreat to. (Nor does God really tell Abraham to drop his tools – he just packs them all up for the journey). Just leave. Go. Start. The way will be shown (Genesis 12). Do I trust that much, that I could start out without knowing where I will end up? Do I trust enough to drop my tools, the tools I have for so long used to protect myself, and retreat to the not-yet-seen place that God will show me?

Trust in the Lord with all your heart

and lean not on your own understanding.

In all your ways submit to him,

and he will make your paths straight.

Proverbs 3:5-6 NIV

*The presenter was Dr. Anthony Muhummad, Ph.D.

Photo credit:  weadapt.org

 

Vanilla Smile

My vanilla smiled at me.

I was baking a cake the other day and my vanilla smiled at me.

I needed that smile. Not because I'm short on people who will smile at me, but because it was a friendly reminder to chill out, relax, find some humour in the everyday. Not that I necessarily took action in that direction immediately, but it was a reminder.

Too often, I get caught up in thoughts and feelings that tell me I'm not good enough, or not good, or just plain old not enough. Where do these thoughts and feelings come from, you may ask. From the one and only person who brings me a daily report on how I've fared during the day: myself, of course. “Well, today was not too bad, but you sure could have done XYZ better....” And then, not only do I cut myself down, I also feel guilty for cutting myself down, and I wouldn't actually want to admit to anyone how I'm thinking or feeling, because one doesn't want to display weakness or incompetence, so I push those feelings down and slam the trap door shut and hope they don't burst out. At least not at an inconvenient time.

Why do I do that to myself? And where, exactly, is that line between high and unreasonable expectations? Between having some kind of personal standards and imposing ridiculous pressure on oneself? And what if my unreasonable expectations and ridiculous pressure barely register on someone else's “regular” standards?

I don't know the answer to those questions, or I'd be in a better place by now.

I suspect, when it comes down to it, that those are unhelpful questions to be asking. They indicate, I suspect, a misplaced focus. I am reminded again of

2 Corinthians 12:9–10:

But [the Lord] said to me,

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses,

so that Christ's power may rest on me.

That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weakness,

in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties.

For when I am weak, then I am strong.

I'm not quite to the “boasting and delighting in weakness” stage, but I did smile back at the vanilla, though it may have looked slightly more like a grimace than a smile.

Deal or No Deal?

I'm a bit of a sucker for free samples.

Which is why I ended up in a new high-end cosmetics store in the Brandon's Shopper's Mall last week.

I don't generally frequent stores like that, but it was the first store in view, coming in the side entrance as we did. And there was Almog, as she later introduced herself, silver tray in hand, standing at the wide entrance to her minimalist store.

I glanced at the individual serving cups on the tray holding tiny dollops of fine hand creme. When I looked up, she caught my eye.

“Would you like to try some?”

Well, how could I resist? My children all dutifully trailed me into the store where I was offered a sample of the lotion which apparently had “diamond dust” in it, a feature which intrigued the boys.

I had barely selected my little cup of lotion when Almog invited me deeper into her store where she could “show me something.”  It was a fancy 4-sided nail file to make my nails strong and shiny, which she demonstrated on one of my nails. I'm also a bit of a sucker for anything that vaguely hints of spa treatment.

And then she demonstrated on my 6-year-old daughter, who is also inclined in that direction (the boys refused the treatment), all the while promoting her products in her charmingly French-accented voice.

I knew the session was building up to a specific sales pitch, the promotion of the month: a set of lotion, nail file and other assorted oils – all for only $79.95 – but this included free refills for 2 years! Not only that, I could receive two kits for the price of one! When I told her I wasn't interested (due to the fact that I had two years earlier acquired a similar product involving a similar scheme, the evidence of which languishes unused in my closet), she moved over to her computer to “check” to see if she could offer me a more suitable deal. In fact, she could! I could buy the kit for only $39.95, free refills included!

I finished rubbing the diamond dust lotion into my hands, gracefully declined and exited the store.

Almog went to great lengths to lure me into her store and make a sale.  Not so unlike the offer God makes to His people in Isaiah 55:1-3:

Come, all you who are thirsty,

come to the waters,

and you who have no money,

come, buy and eat!

Come, buy wine and milk

without money and without cost.

Why spend money on what is not bread,

and your labour on what does not satisfy?

Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,

and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.

Give ear and come to me;

hear me, that your soul may live.

God does everything in his power to supply me with everything I need, setting the price at such an accessible rate. And yet how many of God's blessings are languishing unused in my closet? And why do I so often “gracefully decline” having my needs fulfilled? So often persist in going shopping at “stores” that specialize in false advertising, with vendors that exact exorbitant rates?

Pride, I suppose.

I feel I ought to be able to provide for myself. Or at least should be obliged to work hard to achieve the things I have, maintain some claim to my accomplishments.  And besides, that's where the infamous and nebulous "everyone else" shops.

So, I can buy into the lie that says I am obliged to foot the bill for all of life's provisions, or I can believe God who tells me he's already paid the bill and offers me abundant life just for the asking (John 10:10). You wouldn't think that deciding which deal to sign up for would be such a hard decision to make.