I observe my grandsons and granddaughter as they navigate their inevitable exposure to pop and world culture. Our world has made a turn. We are on a destination path, accentuated during the holiday season.
Cute (and sometimes bizarre), extravagant “floats” glide through New York streets. And as each story is told I notice that the little eyes around me are being treated to strategically placed ads as backdrops for the parade. It is not so much the capitalizing on the advertising op, but the odd configuration of people kissing, dressing, and doing all of those things people used to do without the wall-lessness of Facebook or You Tube.
How can we so systematically remove our Creator from everything we do and turn what is so black and white in the God Story to something so colorless and lifeless in our world view? Stories of gratefulness ring hollow as they are told in grey, emotion-tinged, obligatory tones. Everything appears to be for show. Expected. Choreographed for impact. Sanitized to manage our humanity.
Living in the grey·world appeases the senses but starves the soul.
Consider this excerpt from the God Story, in Acts 17:
“and He made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined their appointed times and the boundaries of their habitation, that they would seek God, if perhaps they might grope for Him and find Him, although He is not far from each one of us; for in Him we live and move and exist, as even some of your own poets have said, ‘For we also are His children.’”
I choose to step out of the grey world into the rivers of light. I choose to sing the ancient song of significance rather than going to such great lengths to cover my nakedness. I ask my Creator to speak softly to the little minds and hearts of my grand kids – even as they sleep.