Well... Duh

"I can see clearly now, the..." rain is gone? No, rain comes and goes, and rain helps things grow. Lately, I've been thinking about a different metaphor/analogy/whichever type of figurative language that says that something is like something else.

Sometimes after a long shower, the mirror is fogged up, and I can't see what I need to see. (Putting on my glasses doesn't always help, because they're majorly fogged up after a shower, too.) But if I wipe away the fog from the mirror, even if it's just a teeny little window, I can see what I need to see so that I can proceed with getting ready. Sometimes it takes a long while for the bathroom mirror to clear up completely, even with the exhaust fan going, but wiping a teeny little window on my mirror usually helps me get the job done. (I'm a woman. Getting ready takes forever, even without makeup.)

I think also sometimes after God gives me a long shower -- with something like His word or a nice discipline-spanking or a burning-hot trial -- my metaphorical mirror gets fogged up, too, and He'll wipe away a teeny little window so that I can clearly see what I need to see. Dang, those little windows can show a lot of important things.

I've blogged previously here and here about how I think some issues and situations are like rocket science, but others are like "duh" common sense. I'm going to talk about the latter type of thing here. Please keep in mind that in this post, I'm NOT referring to the "love hopes all things" type of thing that 1 Corinthians 13 is talking about. Jesus is the ultimate hope, and He'll change whoever will let Him change them. If I repent and follow Him around like a lovesick puppydog, and if I let Him do whatever He wants with me, then I can learn whatever He wants me to learn, and I'll want Him to mold me into whatever He wants me to be. If anyone mistreats me, there's always hope that they'll repent and let Jesus show them how to treat people better.

In this post, I'm referring to the "give me an understanding heart" type of thing that Solomon experienced in 1 Kings 3. Here's Tirzah's quirky right-brained version of that chapter. God was like, "Hey, Solomon, I love you. What would you like Me to give you?" And Solomon was like, "Hi, Lord, I just became king. I know this new job is going to be extremely challenging. So, I was thinking about how my father David was a street-smart songwriting tough-guy warrior. He knew how to go out to war, and he knew how to come back in and chill with You. He learned a ton of things the hard way, and he learned them at the school of hard knocks. He knew the ropes. He had it going on. But I'm not him. I grew up in a palace. I'm used to being waited on hand and foot. I'm used to being doted on. I'm used to getting my own way. So, unlike my dad or Billy Joel, I have no scars on my face, and I cannot handle pressure. So, Lord, I was wondering... can You please give me an understanding heart? I'm going to need it in my new king job. I need You. Can You please help me?" And God was like, "Wow, what a request. I'm proud of you. No problem; you got it. I'll give you an understanding AND wise heart. Go get 'em, tiger!" And, voilà, King Solomon's wisdom gets recorded in the Bible.

All that to say, I think there are some situations in which understanding/wisdom are readily available, staring at you right in the face, right after God wipes a teeny little window in the mirror-fog. You suddenly see it right in front of your face, and then you're like, "well... Duh. Maybe I should have seen that sooner."

1) That one friend who completely ditched me at a church function so she could go hang out with her cousins, well... after years of dragging the friendship along off and on, I finally decided that she was a bad friend. Duh. And, of course, she got mad when I told her I didn't want to be her friend anymore.

2) That one friend who flirted with me while he was out with another woman, well... she ended up having major problems with him after she married him. Duh. And, of course, he lectured me after I unfriended him.

3) That one supervisor who allowed her sibling to engage in extremely unprofessional behavior at work, in her department, before her sibling got fired, well... she ended up being one of the worst supervisors of my career. Duh. And, of course, she happens to be a longstanding supervisor at a certain company.

4) That one guy friend who I painfully crushed on for 14 years in a hope-deferred-makes-the-heart-sick-just-like-in-Proverbs kind of way, who finally told me that he only thought of me as a sister, which is why he never pursued me in the way that I wanted him to... well, I had to block him on Facebook twice for the sake of my sanity. Duh. And, of course, I totally should have said something to him, like, maybe 19 years ago and regained my sanity sooner.

5) That one friend who told me plainly in college that we weren't close friends, and who chowed down on a tall plate of chocolate-chip cookies while I stared at her in minimum-wage starvation, and who hunted me down after college so I could help her with some of her work assignments, and who has done nothing to deepen our friendship... well, she didn't defend my job performance at a certain company. Duh. And, of course, I don't think she's noticed yet that I unfriended her.

When I grew up, gossiping was normal, and I didn't even realize we were doing it, and I didn't even realize it was bad, even though it was a tasty-morsel-just-like-in-Proverbs type of thing that you share as a painting-your-nails type of chick bonding. Now that God has wiped a teeny little window in the mirror-fog, I see it right in front of my face, and I'm like, "well... Duh." And I can avoid gossiping like the plague.

When I grew up, being a Pharisee was normal, and I didn't even realize we were doing it, and I didn't even realize it was bad, even though it was a brood-of-vipers-just-like-in-the-Gospels type of thing that flows naturally out of your mouth like a dead bone floating in a "they are below us, because we are gente fina" type of crap-river. Now that God has wiped a teeny little window in the mirror-fog, I see it right in front of my face, and I'm like, "well... Duh." And I can let God get rid of my whitewash and bring my dead bones to life.

When I grew up, abuse was normal, and I didn't even realize we were doing it, and I didn't even realize it was abuse, even if we did it to an animal, and even though it seemed kinda wrong but nobody really did anything to stop it. Now that God has wiped a teeny little window in the mirror-fog, I see it right in front of my face, and I'm like, "well... Duh." And I can see the scar on my finger from that one time I got too close to that one dog. And I can learn how to treat my animals better. And I can guard my animals' lives with my own. And have I told you lately how much I love my cats?

"A righteous man regards the life of his animal, but the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel." (Proverbs 12:10)

That one guy who once told me that people shouldn't waste prayers on animals, well... I unfriended him. Duh. And I guess he would say that, like, half my prayer life is wasted.

That One Man who left heaven to be born on this earth, die an excruciatingly horrifyingly humiliating death in MY place -- the death that I deserved -- and who has never, ever, ever been mean to me or ignored me or mistreated me in any way whatsoever, well... I'm going to follow Him around like a lovesick puppydog forever. Duh. And I'm thankful that He wants to help me learn how to see things clearly now.