I Am the Door
John 10:9
I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture.
Recently Lina and I had to replace our garage door opener (whole shebang). Back in January, when it was in the single digits, the old opener had gone bad. I ordered a new replacement part over the internet. Our wonderful and mechanically-inclined neighbor Mike installed the new part. How cool is Mike the Mechnical? He thanked me for helping him to fix my garage door!
I kind of operated like the surgical nurse to his surgeon..."Suction"..."Yes, doctor." We decided to not do a major rebuild with the additional new parts that the company had sent me. It was too cold, time was too short, and we did too little. The truly "Terrible Too's."
We were hoping that replacing the one part would fix the problem and save us some cash. Fat chance. All it did was delay the problem. Unfortunately, whatever was wrong with the garage door opener was more than just this one part; its issues were deeper. Although the problem was manifesting itself in the destruction of the one part that we replaced, the cause of the problem was elsewhere. So, we gambled and lost. Thus, when the garage door opener, after a month, ceased to function again, Lina and I decided to just replace the whole garage door opener entirely.
To say that I have little mechanical aptitude is too generous. The other day, when Lina was out of town but on her way home, I pulled out our Dyson high tech vac from the closet to clean up. My usage of the word "our" only indicates that technically the vac belongs to both of us. I had not even touched it until the other day. Frankly, it intimidates me. It is an imposing machine. It took me quite some time to figure out how all of the pieces and parts pulled apart and functioned. Putting it all back together again was almost a Humpty-Dumpty (I am OK with taking things apart, I am horrible at re-assembly). I got real stressed and fuddled and fiddled with the vac, cleaned up, and then shoved the monstrosity back in the closet like a nasty family secret.
Back in 9th grade when I took the Differential Aptitude Test (DAT), my percentile scores in Mechanical Reasoning, Spatial Relations, and Abstract Reasoning, were--like the temps in January--also in the single digits. I remember during the test being totally lost on these parts of the test. I just couldn't grasp the correct answers. I was like a little kid lost in the proverbial woods...not knowing how to get out of the testing forest. The breadcrumb path was gone, blown away by the damaging winds of defectiveness.
I try to have empathy as a school counselor with testing in general. I know how it feels to have a number denoting defectiveness on my permanent academic record. Testing is not destiny.
Why do I have these problems? I have neurological damage from being a premature baby...my right hemisphere of my brain took a pretty serious hit at birth due to a lack of oxygen. Part of what got jettisoned in my fight for survival were my visual field and functioning (right brain/left eye). Mere glasses do not address the deficiencies. My left eye, like a lens, is fine. I am sure that I could organ donate it someone and it would perform splendidly. The visual problems are deeper in my brain...parts are broken or diminished or gone. Interestingly, the left side of my brain is untouched. In my very head, I have both the strong and the weak side by side...in one mind. I also have a lifetime of developing a fear of mechanical things because of my intrinsic issues. But, nature and nurture now have double-teamed me into an inescapable headlock of sorts where I have a phobia of all things mechanical (where even what I should know how to do is laborious). They say women marry their fathers in a way. Well, Lina's dad is a mechanical whiz...so in that way, this maxim does not hold up.
Replacing the garage door opener en masse, not just the piece, has a spiritual application. Morality, trying to be a good person, is like replacing parts when the problem is with the whole machine. For example, I have recently fallen back into the habit of cursing when frustrated (usually, because I have done something stupid). I am not happy with myself and know that I need to deal with it.
I am typically not one to utter profanity in company or at people--except when they do something intentionally asinine and dangerous on the roadways. But behind closed doors, in the privacy of my house, I can let it rip. So, I have a part-time profane mouth that I squelch when it is socially inappropriate, but this goes back to a profane heart. My defective part/heart is indicative of a deeper and more profound defectiveness. I can restrain it for a spell, but the deeper defectiveness will always prevail under the circumstances (the opening and shutting of life). I don't need a new part, I need my new heart.
Last week, in my blog, I wrote how the human heart is wicked. There is great debate in Christian circles, as to whether after conversion, a person's heart is still evil. John Eldredge, for instance, thinks that the post-conversion heart is essentially good (he cites the verse in Ezekiel where God says that He will put a new heart in us). I think that this, at best, is naive of Eldredge; at worst, it is heretical. Yet, it is also equally in error to state that the human heart, after conversion, is all bad. We are new creatures but we need to walk in our redemption.
Where this debate often heads to Scripture-wise is to Romans 7 where Paul writes of the "Good that he wants to do, he does not do." The traditionally Reformed position is the perspective that Paul wants to do good--which is evidence of his "good" heart; the fact that he still does bad is indicative that his heart still has residing evil in it that contests the good. So, it is a titanic battle between good and evil in the heart of the converted man. God's will prevails in this battle, but it is hand-to-hand combat. A Civil War where many casualties yet occur.
In the unregenerate, the battle between the evil and the good is not really a fight at all. Evil has the upper-hand. Kind of like a 300 pound powerlifter (enhanced by steroids) arm-wrestling a 90 year old granny. Not a fair fight, not a struggle.
There is more to say...but I need to close this door, for now...oh yeah, the new garage door works great. It is belt-driven, whisper-like rather than the shouting obnoxious chain-driven one that we had previously. Good for ten years, at least, Sear's said.
I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture.
Recently Lina and I had to replace our garage door opener (whole shebang). Back in January, when it was in the single digits, the old opener had gone bad. I ordered a new replacement part over the internet. Our wonderful and mechanically-inclined neighbor Mike installed the new part. How cool is Mike the Mechnical? He thanked me for helping him to fix my garage door!
I kind of operated like the surgical nurse to his surgeon..."Suction"..."Yes, doctor." We decided to not do a major rebuild with the additional new parts that the company had sent me. It was too cold, time was too short, and we did too little. The truly "Terrible Too's."
We were hoping that replacing the one part would fix the problem and save us some cash. Fat chance. All it did was delay the problem. Unfortunately, whatever was wrong with the garage door opener was more than just this one part; its issues were deeper. Although the problem was manifesting itself in the destruction of the one part that we replaced, the cause of the problem was elsewhere. So, we gambled and lost. Thus, when the garage door opener, after a month, ceased to function again, Lina and I decided to just replace the whole garage door opener entirely.
To say that I have little mechanical aptitude is too generous. The other day, when Lina was out of town but on her way home, I pulled out our Dyson high tech vac from the closet to clean up. My usage of the word "our" only indicates that technically the vac belongs to both of us. I had not even touched it until the other day. Frankly, it intimidates me. It is an imposing machine. It took me quite some time to figure out how all of the pieces and parts pulled apart and functioned. Putting it all back together again was almost a Humpty-Dumpty (I am OK with taking things apart, I am horrible at re-assembly). I got real stressed and fuddled and fiddled with the vac, cleaned up, and then shoved the monstrosity back in the closet like a nasty family secret.
Back in 9th grade when I took the Differential Aptitude Test (DAT), my percentile scores in Mechanical Reasoning, Spatial Relations, and Abstract Reasoning, were--like the temps in January--also in the single digits. I remember during the test being totally lost on these parts of the test. I just couldn't grasp the correct answers. I was like a little kid lost in the proverbial woods...not knowing how to get out of the testing forest. The breadcrumb path was gone, blown away by the damaging winds of defectiveness.
I try to have empathy as a school counselor with testing in general. I know how it feels to have a number denoting defectiveness on my permanent academic record. Testing is not destiny.
Why do I have these problems? I have neurological damage from being a premature baby...my right hemisphere of my brain took a pretty serious hit at birth due to a lack of oxygen. Part of what got jettisoned in my fight for survival were my visual field and functioning (right brain/left eye). Mere glasses do not address the deficiencies. My left eye, like a lens, is fine. I am sure that I could organ donate it someone and it would perform splendidly. The visual problems are deeper in my brain...parts are broken or diminished or gone. Interestingly, the left side of my brain is untouched. In my very head, I have both the strong and the weak side by side...in one mind. I also have a lifetime of developing a fear of mechanical things because of my intrinsic issues. But, nature and nurture now have double-teamed me into an inescapable headlock of sorts where I have a phobia of all things mechanical (where even what I should know how to do is laborious). They say women marry their fathers in a way. Well, Lina's dad is a mechanical whiz...so in that way, this maxim does not hold up.
Replacing the garage door opener en masse, not just the piece, has a spiritual application. Morality, trying to be a good person, is like replacing parts when the problem is with the whole machine. For example, I have recently fallen back into the habit of cursing when frustrated (usually, because I have done something stupid). I am not happy with myself and know that I need to deal with it.
I am typically not one to utter profanity in company or at people--except when they do something intentionally asinine and dangerous on the roadways. But behind closed doors, in the privacy of my house, I can let it rip. So, I have a part-time profane mouth that I squelch when it is socially inappropriate, but this goes back to a profane heart. My defective part/heart is indicative of a deeper and more profound defectiveness. I can restrain it for a spell, but the deeper defectiveness will always prevail under the circumstances (the opening and shutting of life). I don't need a new part, I need my new heart.
Last week, in my blog, I wrote how the human heart is wicked. There is great debate in Christian circles, as to whether after conversion, a person's heart is still evil. John Eldredge, for instance, thinks that the post-conversion heart is essentially good (he cites the verse in Ezekiel where God says that He will put a new heart in us). I think that this, at best, is naive of Eldredge; at worst, it is heretical. Yet, it is also equally in error to state that the human heart, after conversion, is all bad. We are new creatures but we need to walk in our redemption.
Where this debate often heads to Scripture-wise is to Romans 7 where Paul writes of the "Good that he wants to do, he does not do." The traditionally Reformed position is the perspective that Paul wants to do good--which is evidence of his "good" heart; the fact that he still does bad is indicative that his heart still has residing evil in it that contests the good. So, it is a titanic battle between good and evil in the heart of the converted man. God's will prevails in this battle, but it is hand-to-hand combat. A Civil War where many casualties yet occur.
In the unregenerate, the battle between the evil and the good is not really a fight at all. Evil has the upper-hand. Kind of like a 300 pound powerlifter (enhanced by steroids) arm-wrestling a 90 year old granny. Not a fair fight, not a struggle.
There is more to say...but I need to close this door, for now...oh yeah, the new garage door works great. It is belt-driven, whisper-like rather than the shouting obnoxious chain-driven one that we had previously. Good for ten years, at least, Sear's said.
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