The Zoo Cage Prophet
For about fifteen days I personally went through my personal property and discarded anything that would be considered illegal or against the rules (in other words, anything “questionable.”) And I was convinced I had done a great job.
The prison was conducting cell searches and was looking for anything and everything that was questionable. We had received word that a cell had been found with items impossible to have without outside help. Outside help, meaning “staff.” However the fault was not found with the obvious (the staff), but with all inmates.
The officers searched slowly, hard, and with lots of egg on their faces. The results were far from pretty. But I already knew the searches were ending in a chaotic state. So to prevent my cell from ending up looking like an apocalyptic event, I decided to go through my own stuff and get rid of anything questionable I might have.
I had things saved in small boxes I was convinced I would need again. Now gone.
Extra trinkets I kept for memories’ sake, tossed in the trash.
Extra state clothing that I had in my bin for a “just in case’ day, turned in.
Every day I found something new that I saw as questionable. And every day I felt a little better about how ready I was. I was proud of the good job I had done.
I was ready.
The day came when my section was to be searched, and I was certain I had made a lucky officer’s job 99% easier. Secretly I suspected an “‘Attaboy!” or a “Good job!” from the officer. Yeah, that’s how good of a job I had done. A super job.
Late in the day, when I had returned from work, I anxiously walked to my cell expecting it to be almost untouched and seeing a big smile on my cell mate’s face. And a nice night’s sleep.
To my horror, I walked into a dump. I was sure a tornado or tsunami had passed through my cell. My cell mate was standing mid-cell with a lost look on his face. I was sure he was frozen in place—he was not moving.
“What happened?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. All he did was look at me. No words.
The cell was turned upside-down. Nothing was in its place. Everything was all over. Folders that once contained nicely-filed files, now in a pile. All opened. All a big mess.
My things intermixed with my cell mate’s. My clothes mixed in with his. Nothing made sense. Where to start? How to start?
Five hours later the cell was sort of livable, enough to try to rest and sleep. But in the five hours we had spent fixing the cell, we discovered that the officer that searched our cell had taken many things that he deemed questionable. What I thought was enough was nowhere close to his standard.
At first I was a bit confused and a little upset over what was removed. I wanted to appeal it. Demand my stuff back. Right what I saw as wrong. I wanted justice.
No justice, no peace. Well, that’s what I thought until I was awakened by God. Actually, I just could not sleep. So in prayer I protested to Father. I let Him in on my thoughts about the items that were taken.
Through my thoughts, Father answered my protest. He reminded me that only he who holds the standard can decide what is questionable and what is not. I had used my own standard to judge what was questionable and was pleased (proud!) of my own judgment. But when the real standard was used, much more was found.
This error I see in myself, too. I may be very aware that I’m holding and storing questionable things in my life. And there come times – let’s say trials – that remind me I better get rid of them. But instead of going to the Standard (God), I try to do the cleaning myself. And in the process I do my best, but use my own standard. In the end, all the hard work of cleaning house leaves me feeling good and proud.
Good and proud, however, is not what I’m supposed to be. God calls us to be holy and humble. And to go to Father—the Standard Holder—for cleaning. Because no matter how much I try, I will never see the deeper—maybe even smaller—most questionable issues in my life. Only He can see through all the stuff and remove the things that are really questionable.
Too many of us are living our lives thinking we have been helping God by doing our own cleaning. We are even proud of it. We expect others to see what good Christians we are and expect our “‘Attaboy!” and “Good job!” compliments. But God smiles and begins to rid us of our junk through some trials and daily life things. In the end, God leaves our lives a bit upside-down. But it’s what we needed to rid our lives of all the questionable things we held onto that we didn’t think were questionable.
By doing so, our lives are left open for a cleaner and more open relationship with our Father.
So whose standard are you using? Yours, or the Standard Holder’s?
Still licking my wounds...
© 2014 Friends of Adrian
