"I asked for a car; I got a computer."

Looking for a commentary that uses big words and ponders the deeper meanings of various topics? Well...you've come to the wrong place. This blog is all about extolling the greatness of Christ, the joy of marriage, the rollercoaster ride called parenthood, the supremacy of the 1980's...and doing all of it at a fifth grade reading level!

Saturday, January 22, 2011

He Deserves My Best

Elijah thinks it’s funny to talk about dates that I had in high school. He is amazed that ANY girl would have gone ANYWHERE with me. Our conversation this past week made me think of this quintessential moment from my past…

It was my senior year in high school…and it appeared as though I was going to successfully navigate four years of high school without going to the Homecoming dance. This didn’t bother me a considerable amount. After all, I had roughly the same social skills of a leper and wasn’t exactly the most coveted dude walking the halls of Southwest High School.

Then one day a friend told me about a girl who needed a date to the dance, and that she had taken a certain interest in me. That rarely happened in my life, so after I verified my friend’s sanity I asked him to continue his story. Her name was Jennifer Schmidt. She was tall, beautiful, and a cheerleader.

And…in a nutshell…WAY OUTTA MY LEAGUE! There was no way I was asking her to go out in public with me. Surely there was a better offer waiting in the wings.

But after some not-so-gentle prodding from a GROUP of friends, I took a walk on the wild side and asked Jennifer to the dance. And she said, “Yes.”

Now…this is where the panic sets in…

…because I had to make this evening PERFECT! I was going to foul up this golden opportunity to be seen with this tall, gorgeous goddess. Everything had to be in order…so I put a plan in motion that consisted of extremes to which I have rarely gone.

I went shopping…by myself…bought slacks, a shirt, a tie and a jacket. Jennifer was not going to the dance with a slovenly-looking dork.

I polished my shoes…repeatedly. You could see my shoes from outer space…and I wanted Jennifer to be able to see OUR reflection in my shoes (how’s that for corny?!?!)

I bought cologne. Polo, to be exact. Jennifer was not going to stand next to a scentless buffoon.

I did sit-ups...lots and lots AND LOTS of sit-ups! On the off-chance that Jennifer hugged me, I was NOT going to let her wrap her arms around a mass of jello.

I sent Jennifer flowers. After all, she needed to know that I was looking forward to the evening.

I got my hair cut; I brushed and flossed my teeth an hour per day, and showered incessantly.

I wanted to be the best possible me I could be.

The evening? Well…it was a disaster…but that’s another note for another time.

Jennifer Schmidt was beautiful…but she wasn’t eternal. She was beautiful, but she wasn’t omnipotent. She was beautiful, but she wasn’t all-knowing. In my eyes, she was a goddess…but she wasn’t GOD. But oh the lengths that I went to in an effort to impress this mortal being.

Tonite, while studying for my class, I read the first two chapters of Genesis. Yes, I’ve read those verses MANY times before and heard the stories talked about in Bible class time and time again. But with that story of Jennifer rattling around inside my head, it gave me a different perspective on this magnanimous event that kicked off human history...

The One who did all that cool stuff and made everything…did that for ME!

And instead of going to great lengths to show Him how special He is to me, I give him a cursory “eh,” shrug my shoulders, and go about my day. I should be turning myself inside out to prove to Him that He is all that I live for…yet so often I treat Him as though He were an inconvenience to my daily routine. I serve Him leftovers, I give Him the used-up stuff, and I offer Him very little.

He deserves better.

No…He deserves the best...

1 Comments:

At 1:01 AM, Blogger Jaworski Family said...

Good stuff! I love "OUR reflection"...this made me laugh on a sleepless night as I await baby #3. Thanks, Chris.

 

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