Ignorance is bliss.

Recently in the news we learned of a 17 year old boy so eager to own an ipod and ipad he was willing to sell one of his organs to get them. Through an internet chat room he arranged to sell one of his kidneys for the equivalent of $3500 and underwent major surgery without telling his parents.

In China where he lives, organs are highly prized and going like hot cakes through a well organized black market. Wang’s kidney sold for $32,000, and most of that money went to pay off a gambling debt. I’d say the biggest gamble was buying a youth’s kidney and hoping not to get caught. All 5 people involved are under arrest for illegal organ trading and unintentional injury.

As for Wang, he recuperated in the beginning without too much trouble, and his mother was none the wiser until she saw him working with his new Apple products. When she quizzed him about his money source, he ‘fessed up. Today, one year after his surgery, Wang is struggling with kidney failure and overall poor health. His prognosis isn’t known.

Young people aren’t the only ones who make bad decisions. All of us occasionally succumb to our emotions and choose poorly, usually bringing a heap of misery on ourselves in the process. If we wrote down all the cause-and-effect relationships in Scripture, the list would be as long as toilet paper off a roll. But ignorance is bliss, and often we’d rather not know. That kind of bliss can be costly.

Sometimes God saves us from our own foolish choices, but other times not. When he decides to let us take care of our own risk management, he does it with our eventual good in mind. I can imagine him smiling at the complicated messes we make, knowing that when it’s finally all been cleaned up, we won’t soon forget what we learned through pain and suffering.

When Nate and I were poor newlyweds and he was still in law school, the local blood bank paid $25 for a donated pint. We were in there as often as allowed, usually signing up to give again before the compulsory 6 weeks between donations had elapsed. If we’d seen an ad for kidney purchase, we probably would have signed up for that, too.

In Proverbs 12 we read, “The way of a fool is right in his own eyes.” With hindsight being 20/20, we all know the truth of that. But foresight? That’s a little harder to come by.

And besides, it always seems like such a good idea at the time.

“Don’t act thoughtlessly, but understand what the Lord wants you to do.” (Ephesians 5:17)

The Pet Nobody Wants

Although life’s big problems can swamp us, sometimes it’s the little things that do us in. Married couples discover this when they learn they don’t squeeze the toothpaste alike. But all of us can get peeved at small stuff that eventually become our “pet peeves.”

I remember being at a couple’s party with Nate years ago where we played The Newlywed Game. One of the questions they asked me while Nate was out of the room was, “What is your husband’s pet peeve?”

I said, “Oh, that’s easy. Wasting time in traffic.”

When Nate came back in, they asked him the same question, and he said, “That’s easy. Cold toast.”

Though he’d probably told me many times, I never corrected the problem because cold toast didn’t bother me. Poor guy. No wonder it became his pet peeve.

Today I did battle with one of my own pet peeves. I’ve always been bothered by that last sliver of bar soap that’s hard to finish. It gets small, then won’t suds-up, and easily slips away.

After “losing” my paper-thin soap in the water multiple times today, I decided to toss it out. (When I did, I heard Mom say, “During the Great Depression we had to make our own! Don’t waste that!”) It didn’t feel good throwing it away, but it instantly eliminated my pet peeve. Besides, it sure was fun putting a plump new bar in the soap dish.

I’ll bet God has a long list of pet peeves about me. In studying Scripture I’ve seen what kind of person he wants me to be, and in a thousand ways I’m not. The Old Testament tells us about God getting peeved enough to obliterate the entire human race. Later he threatened to do away with all the Children of Israel, which amounted to millions.

No doubt he gets pretty peeved with the rest of us, too. And my guess is that his “Pet Peeves List” hasn’t changed too much in thousands of years. So do we have to worry about being zapped into oblivion? No, if we work at one thing: not getting him peeved.

But how?

Just as earthly parents appreciate their children’s’ desire to improve and then eagerly help them to do it, so God responds to our desire to change by rushing toward us to facilitate it. It’s like a young child asking his mother for money to buy her a Mother’s Day gift. Happily, she gives it to him. God hopes we’ll act in godliness, and when we say we want to, he’ll empower us to make it happen.

My only question now is, should I dig that soap-sliver out of the trash?

“Continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.” (Philippians 2:12-13)

An Eight-legged Reminder

Today, despite brisk winds and 55 degrees, I decided to take a break from tax stuff, writing work, and errands, to spend an hour at the beach. After packing a bag, I leashed Jack, and off we went.

Just as I plunked my back pack on the sand and was reaching inside for a Coke Zero, a hopping black spider scurried up next to me. I didn’t want to share my patch of sand with him, but when I moved left, he did, too. When I went right, he followed. We were playing chicken over one square yard on a massive, empty beach.

“Really?” I said, looking down at him. “Can’t you go someplace else?”

As if mocking me, he jumped straight up and into my open back pack. Because its contents were a jumble of beachy things, finding him was going to be difficult. I unzipped the bag, laying it as far open as it would go, and spotted him nestled between my sun glasses and a granola bar.

“See the sun?” I said, holding the bag open. “This way out.”

He began climbing over pens, paper, and a chapstick heading for freedom, but as he stood perched on the zipper’s edge, he took a flying leap and landed on my hand. I flinched, and wouldn’t you know it, he jumped right back into the bag.

I decided to repeat my strategy but this time face the back pack away from me. Sure enough, in less than a minute he had again crawled as far out as the zipper, hopping to the sand from there. Then he made an about-face, ran toward me, and dashed up my pant leg.

I shook my leg, and watched him fall to the sand, where he stayed. Using both hands to scoop him up along with the sand he was sitting on, I tried to fling him away, but he hopped out first and landed at my feet. One quick stomp would have done him in, but I opted instead for a swift kick, sending him sailing toward the dune. When he landed, he headed back my way, but I bombarded him with sand until he was buried.

It occurred to me that God pursues us much like that spider, relentlessly wanting a relationship with us. He tracks us out of a pure love that wants what’s best for us, which of course is him. Sadly, just as I worked to get rid of the spider, we can work to push God away, too. And if we do it long enough, he lets us go-it-alone until we’re buried in troubles. Digging out after that is difficult, but when we do, he’s still there waiting, offering himself and his love once again.

Eventually my beach spider reappeared and scampered over to “love” Jack instead of me, which didn’t seem to bother him and was fine with me.

“God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made.” (Romans 1:20)